MORRIS. [_Turning on him furiously._] You call yourself a man of science, and you dare to tell me not to inquire! SMITH. We only mean that for the moment you might let it alone. MORRIS. [_Violently._] No, Priest, I will not let it alone. [_Pacing the room again._] Could it be done with mirrors? [_He clasps his brow._] You have a mirror.... [_Suddenly, with a shout._] I've got it! I've got it! Mixture of lights! Why not? If you throw a green light on a red light.... [_Sudden silence._ SMITH. [_Quietly to the_ DOCTOR.] You don't get blue. DOCTOR. [_Stepping across to the_ CONJURER.] If you have done this trick, for God's sake undo it. [_After a silence, the light turns red again._ MORRIS. [_Dashing suddenly to the glass doors and examining them._] It's the glass! You've been doing something to the glass! [_He stops suddenly and there is a long silence._ CONJURER. [_Still without moving._] I don't think you will find anything wrong with the glass. MORRIS. [_Bursting open the glass doors with a crash._] Then I'll find out what's wrong with the lamp. [_Disappears into the garden._ DOCTOR. It is still a wet night, I am afraid. SMITH. Yes. And somebody else will be wandering about the garden now. [_Through the broken glass doors_ MORRIS _can be seen marching backwards and forwards with swifter and swifter steps._ SMITH. I suppose in this case the Celtic twilight will not get on the chest. DOCTOR. Oh, if it were only the chest! _Enter_ PATRICIA. PATRICIA. Where is my brother? [_There is an embarrassed silence, in which the_ CONJURER _answers._ CONJURER. I am afraid he is walking about in Fairyland. PATRICIA. But he mustn't go out on a night like this; it's very dangerous! CONJURER. Yes, it is very dangerous. He might meet a fairy. PATRICIA. What do you mean? CONJURER. You went out in this sort of weather and you met this sort of fairy, and so far it has only brought you sorrow. PATRICIA. I am going out to find my brother. [_She goes out into the garden through the open doors._ SMITH. [_After a silence, very suddenly._] What is that noise? She is not singing those songs to him, is she? CONJURER. No. He does not understand the language of the elves. SMITH. But what are all those cries and gasps I hear? CONJURER. The normal noises, I believe, of a quiet business man. DOCTOR. Sir, I can understand your being bitter, for I admit you have been uncivilly received; but to speak like that just now.... [PATRICIA _reappears at the garden doors, very pale._ PATRICIA. Can I speak to the Doctor? DOCTOR. My dear lady, certainly. Shall I fetch the Duke? PATRICIA. I would prefer the Doctor. SMITH. Can I be of any use? PATRICIA. I only want the Doctor. [_She goes out again, followed by_ DR. GRIMTHORPE. _The others look at each other._ SMITH. [_Quietly._] That last was a wonderful trick of yours.