omable pit of reflection, 'among other
things he said that I haven't any wish to remember was that I was a
sceptic. And Bethany said DITTO to it. I don't mind being called a
sceptic: why, I said myself Mrs Lovat was a sceptic just now! But when
it comes to "devils," Mrs Lawford--I may be convinced about the other,
but "devils"! Well, I've been in the City nearly twenty-five years, and
it's my impression human nature can raise all the devils WE shall
ever need. And another thing,' he added, as if inspired, and with an
immensely intelligent blink, 'is it just precisely that word in the
Revised Version--eh, Craik?'

'I'll certainly look it up, Danton. But I take it that Mrs Lawford is
not so much insisting on the word, as on the--the manifestation. And
I'm bound to confess that the Society for Psychical Research, which
has among its members quite eminent and entirely trustworthy men of
science--I am bound to admit they have some very curious stories to
tell. The old idea was, you know, that there are seventy-two princely
devils, and as many as seven million--er--commoners. It may very well
sound quaint to our ears, Mrs Lovat; but there it is. But whether
that has any bearing on--on what you were saying, Danton, I can't say.
Perhaps Mrs Lawford will throw a little more light on the subject
when she tells us on what precise facts her--her distressing theory is
based.'

Lawford had soundlessly stolen a pace or two nearer, and by stooping
forward a little he could, each in turn, scrutinise the little intent
company sitting over his story around the lamp at the further end of the
table; squatting like little children with their twigs and pins, fishing
for wonders on the brink of the unknown.

'Yes,' Mrs Lovat was saying, 'I quite agree, Mr Craik. Seventy-two
princes, and no princesses. Oh, these masculine prejudices! But do throw
a little more modern light on the subject, Sheila.'

'I mean this,' said Sheila firmly. 'When I went in for the last time to
say good-bye--and of course it was at his own wish that I did leave him;
and precisely WHY he wished it is now unhappily only too apparent--I had
brought him some money from the bank--fifty pounds, I think; yes, fifty
pounds. And quite by the merest chance I glanced down, in passing, at a
book he had apparently been reading, a book which he seemed very anxious
to conceal with his hand. Arthur is not a great reader, though I believe
he studied a little before we were married,