don't tell me what kind of proof?"

"Not yet. Things must go a little farther first. But, perhaps even
to-morrow I may be able to explain myself more fully. In the meanwhile,
I'll say this, that if, eventually, I can't bring any kind of proof that
I'm not dreaming I'll let you take me to any doctor you like, and I'll
resolutely try to adopt your present view--that I'm suffering from an
absurd delusion. That is your view of course?"

Father Murchison was silent for a moment. Then he said, rather
doubtfully:

"It ought to be."

"But isn't it?" asked Guildea, surprised.

"Well, you know, your manner is enormously convincing. Still, of course,
I doubt. How can I do otherwise? The whole thing must be fancy."

The Father spoke as if he were trying to recoil from a mental position
he was being forced to take up.

"It must be fancy," he repeated.

"I'll convince you by more than my manner, or I'll not try to convince
you at all," said Guildea.

When they parted that evening, he said,

"I'll write to you in a day or two probably. I think the proof I am
going to give you has been accumulating during my absence. But I shall
soon know."

Father Murchison was extremely puzzled as he sat on the top of the
omnibus going homeward.

IV.

In two days' time he received a note from Guildea asking him to call, if
possible, the same evening. This he was unable to do as he had an
engagement to fulfil at some East End gathering. The following day was
Sunday. He wrote saying he would come on the Monday, and got a wire
shortly afterwards: "Yes, Monday come to dinner seven-thirty Guildea."
At half-past seven he stood on the doorstep of Number 100.

Pitting let him in.

"Is the Professor quite well, Pitting?" the Father enquired as he took
off his cloak.

"I believe so, sir. He has not made any complaint," the butler formally
replied. "Will you come upstairs, sir?"

Guildea met them at the door of the library. He was very pale and
sombre, and shook hands carelessly with his friend.

"Give us dinner," he said to Pitting.

As the butler retired, Guildea shut the door rather cautiously. Father
Murchison had never before seen him look so disturbed.

"You're worried, Guildea," the Father said. "Seriously worried."

"Yes, I am. This business is beginning to tell on me a good deal."

"Your belief in the presence of something here continues then?"

"Oh, dear, yes. There's no sort of doubt about the matter. The night I
went