For the moment his own trouble was forgotten: he was only conscious of a pleasurable sense of excitement. Not that he really believed in what the girl had said, any more than the average normal person believes in a haunted house. But even the most pronounced sceptic is conscious of a little thrill when he turns out the light in the bedroom which is popularly reputed to be the family ghost’s special hunting-ground. "I think it’s very foolish of Mrs. Harker to wear those lovely pearls of hers." The girl was speaking again, and Merton glanced at his hostess. He had not remarked them specially before, but now he noticed that Mrs. Harker had three long ropes of large beautifully matched pearls round her neck. "My jade beads didn’t matter very much—though I lost half a dozen at least. But with those pearls—why, she might mislay a dozen if the rope was broken, and be none the wiser." A jovial chuckle made Merton look up. Paul Harker was standing behind them, and he had evidently heard the girl’s remark. "I’m a Philistine, Iris. Forgive me. I don’t somehow anticipate much danger to Rose’s pearls." "You’re wrong, Mr. Harker," she said, gravely. "You’ve never seen a tangible materialization. I have—and I know." "Anyway," he laughed, "there’s no use attempting to ask her to take them off, because she won’t. And incidentally it looks to me as if the worthy Professor was going to get busy. There’s a wild look in his eye." "Will you take your seats, please, ladies and gentlemen? The two gentlemen on opposite sides of the room. I thank you." In a mournful way he contemplated the circle from the centre of the floor. "I would point out to all of you," he continued, "that our experiment to-night is a difficult one, entailing the highest form of will-co-operation and mental effort. If we are successful, I can tell no more than you what form this materialization will take. But I must entreat of you to concentrate with all your power on the one main salient fact of producing a tangible thing: and I must beg you most earnestly not, under any circumstances, to speak while the experiment is in progress. We will now put out the lights." And the last thing Billy Merton was conscious of before the lights went out were Iris Sala’s grey-green eyes fixed on him with an inscrutable baffling look in them. Even in the darkness he seemed to see them: languorous, mocking, a little cynical. And there was something else—some other emotion which eluded him for the moment. It wasn’t sorrow, though it seemed akin to sorrow; it was—yes, it was pity. He moved slightly in his chair, and nodded his head in the darkness. Pity—that was the other message in those wonderful eyes: and the thought brought him back to the reality of his own position.