"It is very kind of Mr. Steppe, but I don't know what you can do, sir. I killed Moropulos. I killed him deliberately. Poor soul! How glad it must have been to have left that horrible body with all its animal weaknesses! I was thinking about it last night: wondering where it would be. Somewhere in the spaces of the night--between the stars. Don't you often wonder whether a soul has a chemical origin? Some day clever men will discover. Souls have substance, more tenuous than light. And light has substance. You can bend light with a magnet: I have seen it done. The ether has substance: compared with other unknown elements, ether may be as thick as treacle. Supposing some super-supernatural scientist could examine the ether as we examine a shovel full of earth? Is it not possible that the soul germ might be discovered? For a soul has no size and no weight and no likeness to man. Some people think of a soul as having the appearance of the body which it inspires. That is stupid. If death can cling to the point of a needle and life grows from a microscopic organism, how infinitesimal is the cell of the soul! The souls of all the men and the women of the world might be brought together and be lost on one atom of down on a butterfly's wing!" The lawyer listened hopefully. Here was a case for eminent alienists. He saw the governor of the jail as he went out. "I should very much like this man to be kept under medical observation," he said. "From my conversation with him, I am satisfied that he isn't normal." "He seems sane enough," replied the governor, "but I will speak to the doctor: I suppose you will send specialists down?" "I imagine we shall; he isn't normal. He practically refuses to discuss the crime--occupied the time by talking about souls and the size of 'em! If that isn't lunacy, then _I'm_ mad!" Steppe, to whom he reported, was very thoughtful. "He isn't mad. Sault is a queer fellow, but he isn't mad. He thinks about such things. He is struggling to the light--those were the words he used to me. Yes, you can send doctors down if you wish. You have briefed Maxton?" The lawyer nodded. "He wasn't very keen on the job. It is a little out of his line. Besides, he'll be made a judge in a year or two, and naturally he doesn't want to figure on the losing side. In fact, he turned me down definitely, but I was hardly back in my office--his chambers are less than five minutes walk away--before he called me up and said he'd take the brief. I was surprised. He is going down to Wechester next week." Steppe grunted. "You understand that my name doesn't appear in this except to Maxton, of course. I dare say that if I went on to the witness stand and told all I knew about Moropulos and what kind of a brute he was, my evidence might make a difference. But I'm not going and your job is to keep me out of this, Smith."