‘Well, I dare say Mr Craik will explain it much better than I can. By a devil, dear.’ The voice was perfectly poised and restrained, and Mr Craik did not see fit for the moment to embellish the definition. Lawford, with an almost wooden immobility, listened on. ‘But _the_ devil, or _a_ devil? Isn’t there a distinction?’ inquired Mrs Lovat. ‘It’s in the Bible, Bettie, over and over again. It was quite a common thing in the Middle Ages; I think I’m right in saying that, am I not, Mr Craik?’ Mr Craik must have solemnly nodded or abundantly looked his unwilling affirmation. ‘And what _has_ been,’ continued Sheila temperately, ‘I suppose may be again.’ ‘When the fellow began raving at me the other night,’ began Danton huskily, as if out of an unfathomable pit of reflection, ‘among other things he said that I haven’t any wish to remember was that I was a sceptic. And Bethany said _ditto_ to it. I don’t mind being called a sceptic: why, I said myself Mrs Lovat was a sceptic just now! But when it comes to “devils,” Mrs Lawford—I may be convinced about the other, but “devils”! Well, I’ve been in the City nearly twenty-five years, and it’s my impression human nature can raise all the devils _we_ shall ever need. And another thing,’ he added, as if inspired, and with an immensely intelligent blink, ‘is it just precisely that word in the Revised Version—eh, Craik?’ ‘I’ll certainly look it up, Danton. But I take it that Mrs Lawford is not so much insisting on the word, as on the—the manifestation. And I’m bound to confess that the Society for Psychical Research, which has among its members quite eminent and entirely trustworthy men of _science_—I am bound to admit they have some very curious stories to tell. The old idea was, you know, that there are seventy-two princely devils, and as many as seven million—er—commoners. It may very well sound quaint to _our_ ears, Mrs Lovat; but there it is. But whether that has any bearing on—on what you were saying, Danton, I can’t say. Perhaps Mrs Lawford will throw a little more light on the subject when she tells us on what precise facts her—her distressing theory is based.’ Lawford had soundlessly stolen a pace or two nearer, and by stooping forward a little he could, each in turn, scrutinise the little intent company sitting over his story around the lamp at the further end of the table; squatting like little children with their twigs and pins, fishing for wonders on the brink of the unknown. ‘Yes,’ Mrs Lovat was saying, ‘I quite agree, Mr Craik. Seventy-two princes, and no princesses. Oh, these masculine prejudices! But do throw a little more _modern_ light on the subject, Sheila.’