The fact was that he was a little disconcerted by the other's eyes. They were, as I have said, kind and shrewd eyes, but they had a good deal of power as well. Mr. Vincent sat motionless during this little speech, just looking at him, not at all offensively, yet with the effect of making the young man feel rather like a defiant and naughty little boy who is trying to explain. Laurie sat back and drew on his cigarette rather hard. "I understand perfectly," said the steady voice. "You are in a very reasonable position. I wish all were as open-minded. May I say a word or two?" "Please." "Well, it is materialization that puzzles you, is it?" "Exactly," said Laurie. "Our theologians tell us--by the way, I am a Catholic." (The other bowed a little.) "Our theologians, I believe, tell us that such a thing cannot be, except under peculiar circumstances, as in the lives of the saints, and so on." "Are you bound to believe all that your theologians say?" asked the other quietly. "Well, it would be very rash indeed--" began Laurie. "Exactly, I see. But what if you approach it from the other side, and try to find out instead whether these things actually do happen. I do not wish to be rude, Mr. Baxter; but you remember that your theologians--I am not so foolish as to say the Church, for I know that that was not so--but your theologians, you know, made a mistake about Galileo." Laurie winced a little. Mr. Jamieson cleared his throat in gentle approval. "Now I don't ask you to accept anything contrary to your faith," went on the other gently; "but if you really wish to look into this matter, you must set aside for the present all other presuppositions. You must not begin by assuming that the theologians are always right, nor even in asking how or why these things should happen. The one point is, _Do they happen?_" His last words had a curious little effect as of a sudden flame. He had spoken smoothly and quietly; then he had suddenly put an unexpected emphasis into the little sentence at the end. Laurie jumped, internally. Yes, that was the point, he assented internally. "Now," went on the other, again in that slow, reassuring voice, flicking off the ash of his cigarette, "is it possible for you to doubt that these things happen? May I ask you what books you have read?" Laurie named three or four. "And they have not convinced you?" "Not altogether." "Yet you accept human evidence for a great many much more remarkable things than these--as a Catholic." "That is Divine Revelation," said Laurie, sure of his ground. "Pardon me," said the other. "I do not in the least say it is not Divine Revelation--that is another question--but you receive the statement that it is so, on the word of man. Is that not true?" Laurie was silent. He did not quite know what to say; and he almost feared the next words. But he was astonished that the other did not press home the point.