e to subside before advancing into the room.
Maskull was a kind of giant, but of broader and more robust physique
than most giants. He wore a full beard. His features were thick and
heavy, coarsely modelled, like those of a wooden carving; but his eyes,
small and black, sparkled with the fires of intelligence and audacity.
His hair was short, black, and bristling. Nightspore was of middle
height, but so tough-looking that he appeared to be trained out of all
human frailties and susceptibilities. His hairless face seemed consumed
by an intense spiritual hunger, and his eyes were wild and distant. Both
men were dressed in tweeds.

Before any words were spoken, a loud and terrible crash of falling
masonry caused the assembled party to start up from their chairs in
consternation. It sounded as if the entire upper part of the building
had collapsed. Faull sprang to the door, and called to the servant to
say what was happening. The man had to be questioned twice before he
gathered what was required of him. He said he had heard nothing. In
obedience to his master's order, he went upstairs. Nothing, however, was
amiss there, neither had the maids heard anything.

In the meantime Backhouse, who almost alone of those assembled had
preserved his sangfroid, went straight up to Nightspore, who stood
gnawing his nails.

"Perhaps you can explain it, sir?"

"It was supernatural," said Nightspore, in a harsh, muffled voice,
turning away from his questioner.

"I guessed so. It is a familiar phenomenon, but I have never heard it so
loud."

He then went among the guests, reassuring them. By degrees they settled
down, but it was observable that their former easy and good-humoured
interest in the proceedings was now changed to strained watchfulness.
Maskull and Nightspore took the places allotted to them. Mrs. Trent
kept stealing uneasy glances at them. Throughout the entire incident,
Mozart's hymn continued to be played. The orchestra also had heard
nothing.

Backhouse now entered on his task. It was one that began to be familiar
to him, and he had no anxiety about the result. It was not possible
to effect the materialisation by mere concentration of will, or the
exercise of any faculty; otherwise many people could have done what he
had engaged himself to do. His nature was phenomenal--the dividing
wall between himself and the spiritual world was broken in many places.
Through the gaps in his mind the inhabitants of the invisible,