all see him_. Good night."

Gerard, as he turned into his _porte cochere_, and made his way up
stairs, was more struck than perhaps he confessed even to himself by the
quiet tone of certainty and assurance in which the Prince uttered these
words; and on reaching his apartment he sat down by the blazing fire,
lighted a cigarette, and began considering in all its bearings what he
felt convinced was a most remarkable case of mania and mental
derangement. In the first place, was the Prince deceived himself, or
merely endeavoring to deceive another? The latter theory he at once
rejected; not only the character and breeding of the man, but his
nervous earnestness about this matter, rendered such a supposition
impossible. Then he himself was deceived--and yet how improbable! Gerard
could remember nothing in what he knew or had heard of the Prince that
could lead him to suppose his brain was of the kind charlatans and
pseudo-magicians can successfully bewitch. On the contrary, although of
a country in which the grossest superstitions are rife, he himself had
led such an active, healthy life, partly in Russia and partly in
England, that his brain could hardly be suspected of derangement. An
intimate and practical acquaintance with most of the fences in "the
shires," and all the leading statesmen of Europe, can hardly be
considered compatible with a morbid disposition and superstitious
nature.

No; the Abbe confessed to himself that the man who deceived Pomerantseff
must have been of no ordinary ability. That he had been deceived was
beyond all question, but it was certainly marvellous. In practical
matters, the Abbe was even forced to confess to himself, he would
unhesitatingly take the Prince's advice, sooner than trust to his own
private judgment; and yet here was this model of keen, healthy, worldly
wisdom gravely inviting him to meet the devil face to face, and not only
this, but promising that it should be no unintelligible freak of
electro-biology, but as a simple fact. Gerard smoked thirty cigarettes
without coming to any satisfactory solution of the enigma. What if after
all he, the Abbe Gerard, for once should abandon the line of conduct he
had laid down for himself, and, to satisfy his curiosity, and perhaps
with the chance of restoring to its proper equilibrium a most valuable
and comprehensive mind, overlook his determination never to endanger his
peace of mind by meddling with the affairs of spiritualists? He could