"How do you suppose he will take your going into this investigation?"

"I don't know, but I think he'll 'fire' me instanter."

"Well, let him try it! He wouldn't _dare_--"

"Oh yes, he would, if he thought I was hurting the inst.i.tution. See what they did to poor little Combes, who mildly claimed to be able to hypnotize people."

"Yes, but he made himself ridiculous in the papers."

"You mean the papers made him ridiculous. Couldn't they do the same with Weissmann and me? Think of a big, sprawling, sketchy drawing in the _Blast_, with Weissmann glaring at a strangely beautiful young lady in scanty gown--his hands spread like claws upon the table, while another younger man (myself) catches at a horn floating overhead. Oh yes, there are great possibilities in to-night's entertainment. May I ask you, Mrs. Rice, to be more than usually circ.u.mspect?"

"You may, Dr. Serviss."

He rose gravely. "Very good. Now I think you would better go to bed."

"I wish your Mr. Lambert would come."

"So do I. I'm afraid he is going to ignore my summons. Unless I hear from him to-morrow I shall consider him craven or indifferent."

"What will you do then?"

His brows contracted into a frown. "I don't know. She should be freed from Clarke's immediate influence, but I don't see how I can interfere."

"I can't believe that she really cares for him; in fact, from things she said to-night, I think she fears him. He was furiously jealous of you, I could see that. And I must say you gave him cause."

He turned and looked at her in affected amazement. "Where are you heading now?"

She laughed. "Where are you drifting, my boy? I never saw any one more absorbed, and I can't say I blame you; she was lovely. Good-night."

And so she left him.

Sitting thus alone in the deep of the night, the flush of his joy at the proof of Viola's innocence grew gray and cold in a profound disbelief in the reality of his experiences. "_Did_ anything really happen?" he asked himself. Returning to the library with intent to study the situation he mused long upon the tumbled books, the horn, the tables, and the chairs. He put himself in Viola's seat in the attempt to conceive of some method whereby even the most skilful magician would be able to pull out tacks, rip st.i.tches, and break tape--and then--more difficult than all, after manipulating the horn, reseat himself and restore his bonds, every tack, to its precise place. And his conversation with "Loggy," most amazing of all, came back to plague him. What could explain that marvellous simulation of his uncle's chuckling laugh?

Yes, Viola was clearly innocent. It was impossible for her to have lifted a hand; that he decided upon finally--and yet it was almost as difficult for Clarke or Mrs. Lambert to have performed all the tricks, "Unless Kate"--he brought himself up short--"in the end, my own sister, is involved in the imposture," he exclaimed, with a sense of bewilderment.

When he dwelt on Viola's delight in her own vindication, and remembered her serene, sweet, trustful glance, a shiver of awe went over him, and the work of saving her, of healing her, seemed greater than the discovery of any new principle; but whenever his keen, definite, a.n.a.lytic mind took up the hit-or-miss absurd caperings of "the spirits" he paced the floor in revolt of their childish chicanery. That the soul survived death he could not for an instant entertain. Every principle of biology, every fibre woven into his system of philosophy repelled the thought. To grant one single claim of the spiritists was disaster. "No, the mother and Clarke are in league, and when the bonds are on one the other acts. I see no other explanation. I distrust Clarke utterly--but the mother is apparently very gentle and candid, and yet--Weissmann may be right. Maternal love is a very powerful emotion. That second voice was like hers. And yet, and yet, to suspect that gentle soul of deliberate deception is a terrible thing. What a world of vulgarity and disease and suspicion it all is! An accursed world, and the history of every medium is filled with these same insane, foolish, absurd doings."

And so he trod in weary circles, returning always to the same point, with an almost audible groan. "Why, _why_ was that charming girl involved in all this uncanny, h.e.l.lish, destructive business? Clarke claims her. On him her fate depends. Perhaps at this moment her name and hideous reproductions of her face are being printed in all the sensational papers of the city. Oh, that crazy preacher! It may be that he has already made her rescue impossible." And always the dark, disturbing thought came at the end to trouble him. "Can she ever regain a normal relation with the world--even if I should interfere?

She should have been freed from this traffic long ago. Can the science of suggestion reach her? Am I already too late?"

The conception that sank deepest and remained most abhorrent in his musings was that conveyed in her own tragic words: "_It seems to me I am becoming more and more like a public piano, an instrument on which any one can strum--and the other world is so crowded, you know!_"

"If there is any manhood left in Lambert he must a.s.sert it or I will throttle Clarke myself," he muttered through clinched teeth. "I ran away two years ago--I evaded my duty yesterday, but I do not intend to do so now. I will not sit by and see that sweet girl's will, her very reason, overthrown by a fanatic preacher eager for notoriety. I will see her again and demand to know from her own lips whether she is in consent to be his wife. I cannot believe it till she tells me so, and then I can decide as to future action."

And at the moment he was comforted by the recollection of something timidly confiding in her parting smile.

XV

VIOLA REVOLTS FROM CLARKE

No sooner were they seated in their carriage than Clarke broke forth in harsh protest. "You must not think of leaving Pratt's house at this time."

"Why not?" asked Viola, roused by the tone of his voice, which was even less considerate than his words.

"Because it will displease him--may possibly alienate him just at a moment when we need him most. He will not consent to be shut out from these test-sittings; on the contrary, he is likely to insist on their taking place in his own library. Furthermore, I don't see why you are in haste to leave so sumptuous an abode."

"Because I hate him, and all connected with him." Her voice was colored with a fierce disgust. "That is the reason, and reason enough."

"You must not let him know that."

"I don't care if he knows it or not. We are not dependent on him or his house."

"Yes, we are! He is most important to all of us until our tests are over and my book in type. I need his indors.e.m.e.nt besides. He is very bitter and vindictive with those whom he thinks should be very grateful, and we must not anger him; we can't afford it."

Mrs. Lambert mildly protested. "I'm sure Mr. Pratt will not think of detaining us if father thinks it best for us to go, and I confess I am anxious to get away myself, Tony. He has been very disagreeable lately."

Clarke went on: "We must continue to let him think his advice and aid invaluable till our book is out, then we can cut loose from him. Our policy--"

Rebellion was in Viola's heart as she cuttingly interrupted: "You speak as if we were in league to cheat him of something. You have always told me that my powers were 'dedicated to the good of the world,' but lately you talk as if they were dedicated to your personal advancement in some way. Now which do you really mean?"

He saw his mistake. Once or twice before he had met her complete opposition, and he feared it. His voice suppled, became persuasive. "I mean, Viola, that in entering upon a great contest--one whose issue is to electrify the civilized world--"

"I don't believe it. What does the world care about a little speck of humanity like me? Professor Serviss is nearer right when he says that converting people to any creed is a thankless task. Ask grandfather to let me live my own life. He listens to you. Tell him I'm tired and--"

"He has promised to be easier on you after we have won our battle."

"But I dread the battle--oh, how I dread it! Professor Serviss says we will lose."

Clarke broke in, sharply: "Please don't quote what Serviss says. His view is that of the worldly wise materialist. You should listen to my advice--not his."

"You said you were anxious to have him on the committee."

"Yes, because I thought his name would count, and that he could bring Weissmann--but now I distrust him. He is too bigoted."

As he continued in this strain he stood in dark contrast to Morton, and the girl could not but wince under the revelation he was unconsciously making. "Anthony, you have talked in that strain ever since we came East. Nothing but using people, using people, all the time. You've been constantly running after those who could 'be of use to us!' and I don't like it. Every word you're saying now makes me doubt your sincerity. I was ashamed of you to-night--I am ashamed of you now. How can I respect you when you say things like that?"

He again tacked. "I do it all for the furtherance of our faith. To do our work we _must_ have authority. It is always necessary to make a big stir in the world in order to do good--think of Christ defying the money-changers and making a scene in the temple!"

She pursued her way. "It's the tone of your voice that scares me.

You're a different person since we came here--you've been harsh and cruel to me." Her voice choked, and yielding to a flood of doubt she cried out: "I've lost faith in you. This ends it all, I will never marry you! I don't care what my 'guides' say. I daren't trust myself to you--now that's the truth."

The mother was aghast. "Why, Viola Lambert! What a terrible thing to say!"

"I can't help it, mother--that is my decision."

Clarke blundered a third time. "I won't release you! This mood is all the influence of those accursed pagans we have just left. That man Serviss has been an evil influence upon you from the very first. He has no G.o.d in his heart. You must keep away from that home--it is destructive."