and gone. You are not, you cannot be like that," he continued with
conviction. "There is truth in these things. I am not an ignorant
mountebank, posing as a Messiah of science. Look at the men and women
who are here to-night. They know a little. They understand a little.
They are only eager to see a little further through the shadows. I do
not ask you to become a convert. I ask you only to believe that I
speak of the things in which I have faith."

"I am quite sure that you do," she answered, with a marked access of
cordiality in her tone. "Believe me, it was not from any distrust of
that sort that I perhaps looked strangely at you when you came up. You
must remember that it is a very short time since our last meeting. One
does not often come face to face with a tragedy like that."

"You are right," he answered. "It was awful. Yet you saw how they
drove me on. I spoke what I felt and knew. It is not often that those
things come to one, but that there was death in the room that night I
knew as surely as I am sitting with you here now. They goaded me on to
speak of it. I could not help it."

"It was very terrible and very wonderful," she said, looking at him
with troubled eyes. "They say that Lady Mary is still suffering from
the shock."

"It might have happened at any moment," he reminded her. "The man had
heart disease. He had had his warning. He knew very well that the end
might come at any moment."

"That is true, I suppose," she admitted. "The medical examination
seemed to account easily enough for his death. Yet there was something
uncanny about it."

"The party broke up the next day, I suppose," he continued. "I have
been down in the country, but I have heard nothing."

"We left before the funeral, of course," she answered.

"Fortunately for me," he remarked, "I had important things to think
of. I had to prepare this paper. The invitation to read it came quite
unexpectedly. I have been in London for so short a time, indeed, that
I scarcely expected the honor of being asked to take any share in a
meeting so important as this."

"I do not see why you should be surprised," she said.

"You certainly seem to have gone as far in the study of occultism as
any of those others."

He looked at her thoughtfully.

"You yourself should read a little about these things," he
said--"read a little and think a little. You would find very much to
interest you."

"I am sure of it," she answered, almost humbly. "Will