"Admit, then, that as my wife and I--two witnesses, each uninfluenced by the other--saw the locked door in Lamb's Terrace fly open, that _that_ is an evidence of the exercise of a spiritual power." Bob laughed a little awkwardly. "You have made me give evidence against myself," he said. Here there came a knock at the door, and Bob calling "Come in," the landlady of the house made her appearance. "Mr. Elsdale is downstairs," she said, "and was coming up, when I told him you had a friend with you, and he sent me to ask whether he would be intruding." Bob looked at me inquiringly. "Not so far as I am concerned," I said; "I should very much like to make your nephew's acquaintance." "Ask Mr. Elsdale to come up," said Bob; and the landlady departed. "I have more than a passing fancy to see your nephew," I said; "you tell me he has delusions; what he says in our discussion, which I don't propose to drop when he joins us, may be of interest." As I spoke Ronald Elsdale entered the room. "My nephew, Ronald Elsdale," said Bob, introducing us. "My old friend, Mr. Emery." As we shook hands my attention was diverted to an incident which, insignificant as it might appear, struck me as very singular; the skeleton cat had risen from the hearthrug and was now standing at Ronald Elsdale's feet, looking up into his face. CHAPTER X. RONALD ELSDALE GIVES OPINIONS. Something more singular than this next attracted my attention. Ronald Elsdale, blind as he was, inclined his head to the ground and seemed to be returning the gaze of the cat. "Can it be possible," I thought, "that this man, physically blind, and this cat, invisible to all eyes but mine, are conscious of each other's presence?" I put this to the test. "You appear to be listening for something," I said. "Did you bring a dog with you?" he asked. "My uncle, I know, keeps neither cat nor dog." "No," I replied, "I brought no dog." "Then I must be mistaken," he said, and he felt his way to the seat he was in the habit of occupying in Bob's room. The cat lay at his feet. I was prepossessed in the young man's favor the moment I set eyes upon him. He was tall and fair, a true Saxon in feature and complexion. There was an engaging frankness in his manner, and his bearing was that of a gentleman. He aroused my curiosity by a habit he had of closing his eyes when any earnest subject occupied his mind. He closed them now as he sat upon his chair, and when he opened them he said, in a singularly gentle voice, "My uncle has told you I am blind, Mr. Emery?" "Yes," I replied; "I sincerely sympathize with you. "Thank you. It is a great misfortune; but there are compensations. There are always compensations, Mr. Emery, even for the worst that can happen to a man." "It is good if one can think so," I remarked. "As a rule men are not patient when things are not as they wish."