Papus invited me to visit the headquarters of the newly created Rosicrucian Order. (It was the same building since the 17th century. The only thing that changed regularly was the Order’s name and its statutes.) It was located near Notre Dame, at the historic heart of Paris. And although we were far from there, Papus proposed to walk. Fortunately, an incident halfway shortened considerably the time of the journey. While we were walking, Papus continued to reveal things about the mysterious book fallen from “above”. Very few people knew its existence: now I was part of that privileged nucleus. I thanked him for the honor and insinuated that I would like to leaf through its pages. He laughed and turned to give me a smack. But I saw it coming and bent down quickly, with such bad luck that the one who got the smack in the face was a lady who passed by carrying a parasol. Thanks to this lady, who persecuted tirelessly Papus while hitting him with the parasol on his back, we reached the Order’s headquarters in a jiffy. Papus arrived very battered because of the blows and the run, so he slumped down into the first chair he found. He began complaining of back pain. But, all of a sudden, he stared wild-eyed at the naked wall in front of him. Then he let out an outcry of horror, got up and ran to the wall, at which foot he threw himself on all fours screaming “The credenza! The credenza! It’s gone!” And he was looking for it at ground level as if it were a piece of furniture of a doll’s house.