“Yes, yes, I wanted to give you a warning.” Mervin’s thin, eager face became intensely serious. “If you have any ingrained religious or other prejudices which may cause you to turn down this subject after you have investigated it, then don’t investigate at all--for it is dangerous.” “What do you mean--dangerous?” “They don’t mind honest doubt, or honest criticism, but if they are badly treated they are dangerous.” “Who are ‘they’?” “Ah, who are they? I wonder. Guides, controls, psychic entities of some kind. Who the agents of vengeance--or I should say justice--are, is really not essential. The point is that they exist.” “Oh, rot, Mervin!” “Don’t be too sure of that.” “Pernicious rot! These are the old theological bogies of the Middle Ages coming up again. I am surprised at a sensible man like you!” Mervin smiled--he had a whimsical smile--but his eyes, looking out from under bushy yellow brows, were as serious as ever. “You may come to change your opinion. There are some queer sides to this question. As a friend I put you wise to this one.” “Well, put me wise, then.” Thus encouraged, Mervin went into the matter. He rapidly sketched the career and fate of a number of men who had, in his opinion, played an unfair game with these forces, become an obstruction, and suffered for it. He spoke of judges who had given prejudiced decisions against the cause, of journalists who had worked up stunt cases for sensational purposes and to throw discredit on the movement; of others who had interviewed mediums to make game of them, or who, having started to investigate, had drawn back alarmed, and given a negative decision when their inner soul knew that the facts were true. It was a formidable list, for it was long and precise, but Malone was not to be driven. “If you pick your cases I have no doubt one could make such a list about any subject. Mr. Jones said that Raphael was a bungler, and Mr. Jones died of angina pectoris. Therefore it is dangerous to criticise Raphael. That seems to be the argument.” “Well, if you like to think so.” “Take the other side. Look at Morgate. He has always been an enemy, for he is a convinced materialist. But he prospers--look at his professorship.” “Ah, an honest doubter. Certainly. Why not?” “And Morgan who at one time exposed mediums.” “If they were really false he did good service.” “And Falconer who has written so bitterly about you?” “Ah, Falconer! Do you know anything of Falconer’s private life? No. Well, take it from me he has got his dues. He doesn’t know why. Some day these gentlemen will begin to compare notes and then it may dawn on them. But they get it.” He went on to tell a horrible story of one who had devoted his considerable talents to picking Spiritualism to pieces though really convinced of its truth, because his worldly ends were served thereby. The end was ghastly--too ghastly for Malone.