rent generated by the dynamo. On the opposite wall was
suspended a thick sheet of some insulating substance--vulcanite--and
fixed upon it was a net-work of wires in whose outlines he could
distinguish the lineaments of the fiery face. Now he understood; it was
simply a trick, the passing of a strong current of electricity through
platinum wires until they became incandescent.

The recognition of those material agencies for the production of the
apparition that had so terrified him gave Constans back his confidence;
his books had not deceived him, and he was ready now for any fresh
marvels that might be on the cards. But the attitude of the priest
puzzled him. Was he really the charlatan, the trickster that he seemed?
Was it not equally simple to regard him as the self-deluded votary? He
could not decide.

"You have looked upon the face of the Shining One," said the old man,
breaking the silence. "Now behold his throne; perchance he will accord
you the honor of sharing it with him."

In the middle of the apartment stood the only piece of furniture proper
that it contained, a massive oaken chair, with a head-piece, upon which
was fastened a metal plate. On the arms of the chair were copper clips,
the size of a man's wrist, and all the points of contact were supplied
with cups containing sponges. Again Constans understood. It was only
necessary to dampen these sponges to ensure a perfect discharge of the
electrical current passing through the head-rest and the metal
wrist-clips. Constans shuddered, and this time with reason; he knew
enough of the science to realize that the slightest contact with those
enormously charged electrodes must be fatal.

The priest went to the switch-board, and, after a series of
genuflections and the mumbling of what might have been an invocation, he
turned a lever. Constans stepped back hastily.

"Now is the Shining One come upon his throne. Take your seat at his side
if you would put his divinity to the proof. Or else be content to serve
him in silence and singleness of heart, even as I."

Constans guessed acutely that the full current from the dynamo must be
passing through the metal framework of the great chair; he moved a
little farther back and stood on guard. There was a glitter in the old
man's eye that was disquieting, and Constans did not relish the idea of
a hand-to-hand struggle in this contracted space with these
wicked-looking wires running in every direction. One of them had