afternoon, he said,
carelessly:

"If you were called upon to prove the falsity or demonstrate the truth
of the spiritualistic faith--how would you set to work?"

Weissmann was a delicious picture as he stood facing his young
colleague. He was dressed to go home, and was topped by a low-crowned,
broad-brimmed, black hat, set rather far back on his head, and
floating like a shallop on the curling wave of his grizzled hair. His
eyebrows, gray, with two black tufts near the nose, resembled the
antennae of a moth. His loose coat, his baggy trousers, and a huge
umbrella finished the picture. He was a veritable German professor--a
figure worthy of _Die Fliegende Blaetter_.

"I can't say exactly," he replied, thoughtfully. "In general I would
bring to bear as many senses as possible. I would see, I would hear, I
would touch. I would make electricity my watch-dog. I would make
matter my trap."

"But how?"

"That, circumstances would determine. My plan would develop to fit the
cases. I would begin with the simplest of the phenomena."

"Do you know Meyers's book?"

"Bah! No."

"And yet they say it is a careful and scientific study."

"They say! Who say?"

Serviss smiled. "The spiritualists." Then lightly added: "What would
you and the rest of the scientific world do to me if I should go into
this investigation and come out converted?"

The old man's eyes twinkled and his mustache writhed in silent
enjoyment. "Burn you alive, as we did Bent and Zoellner."

"Of course you would. What you really want me to do is to go in and
smash the whole thing, eh?"

"That's about it."

"Clarke, that crazy preacher, said we men of science were just as
dogmatic in our way as the bishops, and I begin to think he's right.
We condemn without investigation--we play the heretic, just as they
did. Could you--could any man--go into this thing and not lose
standing among his fellows?"

"No." The old figure straightened, and his mustache bristled sternly.
"No; he who goes into this arena invites a kind of martyrdom--that is
also why I say you, a _young_ man--you might live to see your
vindication, but I would die in my disgrace as Zoellner did."

So they parted, Serviss admiring his chief's blunt honesty and vast
learning, Weissmann busy with the thought that his eyes were failing,
and his work nearly done, "and so little accomplished," he sadly
added.

Kate met her brother at the door in a kind of fury. "Something must be
done for