ned a delicate purple, then, recovering, laughed horribly.

"Whether or not you were once in love with my daughter is of no
consequence now. That machine has nullified your nonsense! That
instrument has found you your proper affinity--doubtless below stairs----"

"I _am_ still in love with Drusilla," repeated Yates, firmly.

"I tell you, you're not!" retorted Carr. "Didn't I turn that machine on
you? It has never missed yet! The Green Mouse has got _you_ in the
Mouseleum!"

"You are mistaken," insisted Yates, still more firmly. "I was in love
with your daughter Drusilla before you started the machine; and I love
her yet! Now! At the present time! This very instant I am loving her!"

"You can't!" shouted Carr.

"Yes, I can. And I do!"

"No, you don't! I tell you it's a scientific and psychical impossibility
for you to continue to love her! Your subconscious personality is now in
eternal and irrevocable accord and communication with the subconscious
personality of some chit of a girl who is destined to love and marry you!
And she's probably a ballet-girl, at that!"

"I shall marry Drusilla!" retorted the young man, very pale; "because I
am quite confident that she loves me, though very probably she doesn't
know it yet."

"You talk foolishness!" hissed Carr. "This machine has settled the whole
matter! Didn't you see that spark?"

"I saw a spark--yes!"

"And do you mean to tell me you are not beginning to feel queer?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Look me squarely in the eye, young man, and tell me whether you do not
have a sensation as though your heart were cutting capers?"

"Not in the least," said Yates, calmly. "If that machine worked at all it
wouldn't surprise me if you yourself had become entangled in it--caught
in your own machine!"

"W-what!" exclaimed Carr, faintly.

"It wouldn't astonish me in the slightest," repeated Yates, delighted to
discover the dawning alarm in the older man's features. "_You_ opened the
receiver; _you_ have psychic waves as well as I. _I_ was in love at the
time; _you_ were not. What was there to prevent your waves from being
hitched to a wireless current and, finally, signaling the subconscious
personality of--of some pretty actress, for example?"

Mr. Carr sank nervously onto a chair; his eyes, already wild, became
wilder as he began to realize the risk he had unthinkingly taken.

"Perhaps _you_ feel a little--queer. You look it," suggested the young
man, in a voice m