I felt again that pullulation I have mentioned. I sensed that the dewdrenched garden that surrounded the house was saturated, infinitely, with invisible persons. Those persons were Albert and myself-secret, busily at work, multiform-in other dimensions of time. I raised my eyes and the gossamer nightmare faded. In the yellow-and-black garden there was but a single man-but that man was as mighty as a statue, and that man was coming down the path, and he was Capt. Richard Madden. "The future is with us," I replied, "but I am your friend. May I look at the letter again?"