“Look here, Harrison,” Vernon had begun. “Why won’t you talk this out?” “Nothing fresh to say,” Harrison had replied. “But _I_ have,” Vernon continued; and then Lady Ulrica definitely put her weight into the scale by saying, “How fascinating! Something really new in the way of evidence?” “Or only a réchauffé?” Harrison interpolated. “At least you might let one state a case,” Vernon said as Greatorex joined the other four and sat down with a grunt beside his wife. “We saw you gesticulating picturesquely against the sunset, G.,” Harrison remarked, as though he would even now create a diversion and defer the discussion indefinitely. Greatorex snorted; quite conscious of the fact that in Harrison’s presence he always played up in manner to that part of the buccaneer which had been thrust upon him, although he disclaimed it in speech. “Been discussing the effects of sunset on temperament,” he said. “But did you see the _Moon_?” asked Mrs. Harrison, rather in the tone of one who introduces a delightful piece of scandal. “Afraid I missed that,” Greatorex said. “But I expect Fell has found it. He’s probably worshipping now.” “Oh! but you ought,” Mrs. Harrison asserted, still intent no doubt, on keeping away from the subject of spiritualism, for her husband’s sake. “It was like a rather badly done stage moon balanced on the scenery. Sha’n’t we all go and worship with Mr. Fell?” No one moved, however; and the excuse of joining Fell was spoilt by his arrival at the cedar. “Do help yourself to coffee and anything you want, Mr. Fell,” Mrs. Harrison said. “If you can see, that is.” She was certainly doing her best to keep the conversation at the right after-dinner level. She was so far successful that for a minute or two little spurts of irrelevant talk continued to start up and die away again, like the uncertain catspaws of wind before a flat calm. It was Harrison himself who at last anticipated the inevitable. He must have felt, as everyone had--including his plucky but finally despairing wife--that it was inevitable. There was something that urged them, something more than that quiet determination of Vernon’s, although his very silence conveyed a perpetual sense of remonstrance. But this other, greater influence was with them as an almost palpable presence. It was like a force exhausting them and drawing them into a common focus.