and measurements,
he locked the door of the library and joined them all in the
dining-room, where they were sipping coffee and nibbling cake. Morton
was sitting beside Viola (who had entirely regained her girlish
lightness of mood), and was chafing her cold hand in the effort to
restore the circulation as well as to remove the deep mark the silken
thread had made about her wrist.

"We shall be obliged to shut out all young men from our committee,"
the old scientist jocularly remarked, as he stood looking down at
them. "Lovely psychics like you would put the whole American Academy
of Science in disorder."

Clarke, raging with jealous fire, turned to Weissmann in truculent
mood. "Well, Dr. Weissmann, how do you account for these phenomena? To
whose agency do you ascribe these marvels?"

"Spooks!" answered the old man, with cheerful promptness.

Clarke reeled before this laconic admission. "What! You agree? You
admit the agency of spirits?"

"Certainly--unless I say Miss Lambert wriggled herself out of her
skin, which would not be nice of me, or that you are the greatest
ventriloquist in the world. No, I prefer to compliment the spirits."

Clarke's face darkened. The old man's face and voice were too jocose.
"I see you do not value our wonderful experiences to-night."

Viola, pinching her sleeve about her wrist, looked up roguishly. "I
couldn't possibly wriggle out of my gown, could I, Dr. Weissmann? And
if I did, how could I get the tacks back without a hammer?"

"Precisely. You would be more burglarious than the ghosts which walk
through the key-holes," he answered.

"And the little girl who spoke German--who was she?" asked Kate.

The hour that followed was a delicious one for the young people, for
they had come at last to some sweet and subtle understanding. As she
recovered the use of her limbs Viola glowed with joy of Morton's
change of attitude towards her. He, on his part, was puzzled by this
mood. It was as if she had been vindicated to herself--liberated from
some dead body of doubt.

Clarke glowered in silence; disapproving, with manifest disdain, the
levity of the scientists, and resenting bitterly Viola's growing trust
and confidence in Serviss. Each moment his anger took on heat, and he
found it hard to reply even to his hostess, who tried to interest him
in a deeper discussion of the evening's marvels. He seemed to have but
one desire--to get away and to take Viola with him.

"Tell me," said