"And yet," said one author, "go a little deeper and you will find in the very absurdities of these phenomena a possible argument for their truth. A manufactured system would be careful to avoid putting forward as evidence a thing so childish and so ludicrous as a spirit tipping a table, writing in a bottle, or speaking through a tin horn. Who but a childlike and trusting soul would expect to convince a man of science of the immortality of the soul by causing a message from his grandfather to appear in red letters on his arm? The hit-or-miss character of all these phenomena, the very silliness and stupidity which you find in the appeal, may be taken as evidence of the sincerity of the psychic." To this Morton took exception. "I don't see that. There has never been a religion too gross, too fallacious, to fail of followers. Remember the sacred bull of Egypt and the snake-dance of the Hopi. The whole theory, as Spencer says, is a survival of a more primitive life and religion." Finding himself alone with Weissmann during the afternoon, he said, carelessly: "If you were called upon to prove the falsity or demonstrate the truth of the spiritualistic faith--how would you set to work?" Weissmann was a delicious picture as he stood facing his young colleague. He was dressed to go home, and was topped by a low-crowned, broad-brimmed, black hat, set rather far back on his head, and floating like a shallop on the curling wave of his grizzled hair. His eyebrows, gray, with two black tufts near the nose, resembled the antennæ of a moth. His loose coat, his baggy trousers, and a huge umbrella finished the picture. He was a veritable German professor--a figure worthy of _Die Fliegende Blätter_. "I can't say exactly," he replied, thoughtfully. "In general I would bring to bear as many senses as possible. I would see, I would hear, I would touch. I would make electricity my watch-dog. I would make matter my trap." "But how?" "That, circumstances would determine. My plan would develop to fit the cases. I would begin with the simplest of the phenomena." "Do you know Meyers's book?" "Bah! No." "And yet they say it is a careful and scientific study." "They say! Who say?" Serviss smiled. "The spiritualists." Then lightly added: "What would you and the rest of the scientific world do to me if I should go into this investigation and come out converted?" The old man's eyes twinkled and his mustache writhed in silent enjoyment. "Burn you alive, as we did Bent and Zöllner." "Of course you would. What you really want me to do is to go in and smash the whole thing, eh?" "That's about it." "Clarke, that crazy preacher, said we men of science were just as dogmatic in our way as the bishops, and I begin to think he's right. We condemn without investigation--we play the heretic, just as they did. Could you--could any man--go into this thing and not lose standing among his fellows?"