"I don't seem to make much of it," said Aubrey. "The 'cello is a difficult instrument to play, and requires long practice." And again he rasped the bow across the strings. The Infant's wail of anguish gained in volume. Ronnie sprang up, holding out eager hands. "Let _me_ try," he said. "It must be able to make a better sound than that!" As he placed the 'cello between his knees, a look of rapt content came into his face. He slipped his left hand up and down the neck, letting his fingers glide gently along the strings. Aubrey watched him narrowly. Ronnie lifted the bow; then he paused. A sudden remembrance seemed to arrest the action in mid-air. He laid his left hand firmly on the shoulder of the Infant, out of reach of the tempting strings. "I am not going to play," he said. "The very first time I really play, must be in the studio, and Helen must be there. But I will just sound the open strings." He looked down upon the 'cello and waited, the light of expectation brightening in his face. Aubrey Treherne noted the remarkable correctness of the position he had unconsciously assumed. Then Ronnie, raising the bow, drew it, with unfaltering touch, across the silver depths of lower C. A rich, full note, rising, falling, vibrating, filled the room. The Infant of Prague was singing. A master-hand had waked its voice once more. Ronnie's head swam. A hot mist was before his eyes. His breath came in short sobs. He had completely forgotten the sardonic face of his wife's cousin, in the chair opposite. Then the hot mist cleared. He raised the bow once more, and drew it across G. G merged into D without a pause. Then, with a strong triumphant sweep, he sounded A. The four open strings of the 'cello had given forth their full sweetness and power. "Helen, oh, Helen!" said Ronnie. Then he looked up, and saw Aubrey Treherne. He laughed, rather unsteadily. "I thought I was at home," he said. "For the moment it seemed as if I must be at home. I was experiencing the purest joy I have known since I left Helen. What do you think of my 'cello, man? Isn't it wonderful?" "It is very wonderful," said Aubrey Treherne. "Your Infant is all you hoped. The tone is perfect. But what is still more wonderful is that you--who believe yourself never to have handled a 'cello before--can set the strings vibrating with such unerring skill; such complete mastery. Of course, to me, the mystery is no mystery. The reason of it all is perfectly clear." "What is the reason of it all?" inquired Ronnie, eagerly.