But nothing happened. Quarter of an hour passed. Then another quarter of an hour. The company was patient, but Challenger had begun to fidget in his seat. Everything seemed to have gone cold and dead. Not only was nothing happening, but somehow all expectation of anything happening seemed to have passed away. “It’s no use!” cried Mailey at last. “I fear not,” said Malone. The medium stirred and groaned; he was waking up. Challenger gave an ostentatious yawn. “Is not this a waste of time?” he asked. Mrs. Linden was passing her hand over the medium’s head and brow. His eyes had opened. “Any results?” he asked. “It’s no use, Tom. We shall have to postpone.” “I think so, too,” said Mailey. “It is a great strain upon him under these adverse conditions,” remarked Ogilvy, looking angrily at Challenger. “I should think so,” said the latter with a complacent smile. But Linden was not to be beaten. “The conditions are bad,” said he. “The vibrations are all wrong. But I’ll try inside the cabinet. It concentrates the force.” “Well, it’s the last chance,” said Mailey. “We may as well try it.” The arm-chair was lifted inside the cloth tent and the medium followed, drawing the curtain behind him. “It condenses the ectoplasmic emanations,” Ogilvy explained. “No doubt,” said Challenger. “At the same time, in the interests of truth, I must point out that the disappearance of the medium is most regrettable.” “For goodness sake don’t start wrangling again,” cried Mailey with impatience. “Let us get some results, and then it will be time enough to discuss their value.” Again there was a weary wait. Then came some hollow groanings from inside the cabinet. The Spiritualists sat up expectantly. “That’s ectoplasm,” said Ogilvy. “It always causes pain on emission.” The words were hardly out of his mouth when the curtains were torn open with sudden violence and a rattling of all the rings. In the dark aperture there was outlined a vague white figure. It advanced slowly and with hesitation into the centre of the room. In the red-tinted gloom all definite outline was lost, and it appeared simply as a moving white patch in the darkness. With the deliberation which suggested fear it came, step by step, until it was opposite the Professor. “Now!” he bellowed in his stentorian voice. There was a shout, a scream, a crash. “I’ve got him!” roared someone. “Turn up the lights!” yelled another. “Be careful! You may kill the medium!” cried a third. The circle was broken. Challenger rushed to the switch and put on all the lights. The place was so flooded with radiance that it was some seconds before the bewildered and half-blinded spectators could see the details.