"Oh yes, do," cried Paul, but in a wholly different tone. The elder man glanced from one to the other, and then back again to Paul. He hesitated. "I would rather not," he said. "One ought not to play tricks." "Exactly," cut in Leather. "Tricks." Childers tightened his lips, and once again fire flashed in his eyes. "Oh, I say," cried Dick, and stopped. A little silence fell on them. The situation was distinctly strained. It was odd, Paul thought afterwards, how time seemed to stand still. The little storm had come up so suddenly, and the commonplace meal and room had so swiftly taken on a new aspect. Leather was insufferably rude. It struck Paul that here, again, was the harsh dogmatic attitude that would not even allow that there could be anything else to see or to believe. He felt suddenly that he must end it. "Mr. Childers," he said, "if you could show us what you mean we should be very glad." The eyes of the two met once more across the table, and Childers made up his mind. "I dislike this sort of thing," he said, "but perhaps sometimes it may be of value. Has Mr. Leather a pin?" Leather got up and took one from a painted satin pincushion that hung on the wall by the fire. They were all so supremely grave that no one saw the humour of it, especially the visitor, who would have seen none in any case. Childers pushed his chair back a few feet from the table. "Mr. Kestern," he said, "would you clear a place on the table? I would rather touch nothing myself. And then perhaps Mr. Leather would set the pin there. Let it lie on the cloth, please." Bewildered, Paul obeyed. The others drew in eagerly. No one knew what was to be attempted, but all were eager to see. Even Leather showed keen interest. Paul pushed back the potatoes and a tablespoon, and swept a few crumbs to one side. Leather dropped the pin into the cleared space, threw himself back into his chair, and thrust his hands into his pockets. Dick leant his elbows on the table and stared at their visitor. "Now," said Childers, "would you mind keeping quiet? I will not ask you to keep your eyes wholly on the pin, or you will say you have been hypnotised or something of that sort, but please watch it and me, and do not speak." In the tense quiet that followed, Paul threw a look at his companions. Dick was puzzled, Leather sceptical and attempting indifference, Henderson and his pupil a-quiver with equal curiosity. Only Childers sat on serene, his eyes on the commonplace pin that lay so still on the table. From without, the sea's murmur came softly in. There was a patch of sunlight on the white cloth. The pin lay clearly in the very centre of it. It lay quite still, naturally, and shone in the light. Still? Was it still? Paul caught his breath.