“You have no certain knowledge?” “We have only faith.” “These questions of religion,” said the Frenchman, “they are of interest to you serious English people, but they are not so much fun. It seems to me that with this power here we might be able to have some great experience--_hein_? Something of which we could talk.” “But nothing could be more interesting than this,” said Moir. “Well, if you think so, that is very well,” the Frenchman answered, peevishly. “For my part, it seems to me that I have heard all this before, and that to-night I should weesh to try some experiment with all this force which is given to us. But if you have other questions, then ask them, and when you are finish we can try something more.” But the spell was broken. We asked and asked, but the medium sat silent in her chair. Only her deep, regular breathing showed that she was there. The mist still whirled upon the table. “You have disturbed the harmony. She will not answer.” “But we have learned already all that she can tell--_hein_? For my part I wish to see something I have never seen before.” “What then?” “You will let me try?” “What would you do?” “I have said to you that thoughts are things. Now I wish to _prove_ it to you, and to show you that which is only a thought. Yes, yes, I can do it and you will see. Now I ask you only to sit still and say nothing, and keep ever your hands quiet upon the table.” The room was blacker and more silent than ever. The same feeling of apprehension which had lain heavily upon me at the beginning of the séance was back at my heart once more. The roots of my hair were tingling. “It is working! It is working!” cried the Frenchman, and there was a crack in his voice as he spoke which told me that he also was strung to his tightest. The luminous fog drifted slowly off the table, and wavered and flickered across the room. There in the farther and darkest corner it gathered and glowed, hardening down into a shining core--a strange, shifty, luminous, and yet non-illuminating patch of radiance, bright itself, but throwing no rays into the darkness. It had changed from a greenish-yellow to a dusky sullen red. Then round this centre there coiled a dark, smoky substance, thickening, hardening, growing denser and blacker. And then the light went out, smothered in that which had grown round it. “It has gone.” “Hush--there’s something in the room.” We heard it in the corner where the light had been, something which breathed deeply and fidgeted in the darkness. “What is it? Le Duc, what have you done?” “It is all right. No harm will come.” The Frenchman’s voice was treble with agitation. “Good heavens, Moir, there’s a large animal in the room. Here it is, close by my chair! Go away! Go away!” It was Harvey Deacon’s voice, and then came the sound of a blow upon some hard object. And then ... And then ... how can I tell you what happened then?