“Well, I expect you are going to let us have it,” he laughed. “We are used to it, Mr. Malone. We don’t mind. But you will see the turn some day. These articles may rise up in judgment.” “I will treat it fairly, I assure you.” “Well, we ask no more.” The medium was leaning with her elbow on the mantelpiece, austere and aloof. “I am afraid you are tired,” said Enid. “No, young lady, I am never tired in doing the work of the spirit people. They see to that.” “May I ask,” Malone ventured, “whether you ever knew Professor Summerlee?” The medium shook her head. “No, sir, no. They always think I know them. I know none of them. They come and I describe them.” “How do you get the message?” “Clairaudient. I hear it. I hear them all the time. The poor things all want to come through and they pluck at me and pull me and pester me on the platform. ‘Me next--me--me!’ That’s what I hear. I do my best, but I can’t handle them all.” “Can you tell me anything of that prophetic person?” asked Malone of the chairman. Mr. Bolsover shrugged his shoulders with a deprecating smile. “He is an Independent. We see him now and again as a sort of comet passing across us. By the way, it comes back to me that he prophesied the war. I’m a practical man myself. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We get plenty in ready cash without any bills for the future. Well, good night! Treat us as well as you can.” “Good night,” said Enid. “Good night,” said Mrs. Debbs. “By the way, young lady, you are a medium yourself. Good night!” And so they found themselves in the street once more inhaling long draughts of the night air. It was sweet after that crowded hall. A minute later they were in the rush of the Edgware Road and Malone had hailed a cab to carry them back to Victoria Gardens.[A] CHAPTER III IN WHICH PROFESSOR CHALLENGER GIVES HIS OPINION Enid had stepped into the cab and Malone was following when his name was called and a man came running down the street. He was tall, middle-aged, handsome and well-dressed, with the clean-shaven, self-confident face of the successful surgeon. “Hullo, Malone! Stop!” “Why, it’s Atkinson. Enid, let me introduce you. This is Mr. Atkinson of St. Mary’s about whom I spoke to your father. Can we give you a lift? We are going towards Victoria.” “Capital!” The surgeon followed them into the cab. “I was amazed to see you at a Spiritualist meeting.” “We were only there professionally. Miss Challenger and I are both on the Press.” “Oh, really! The _Daily Gazette_, I suppose, as before. Well, you will have one more subscriber, for I shall want to see what you made of to-night’s show.” “You’ll have to wait till next Sunday. It is one of a series.” “Oh, I say, I can’t wait as long as that. What _did_ you make of it?”