"I don't know yet," he replied, strangely inconclusive in tone and phrase. "I must think it all over. If I can persuade myself that the marvels which I have witnessed are realities, the universe is an entirely new and vastly different machine for me." Thrilling to the excitement in his face and in his voice, they passed on. At the top of the stairs Leo faced Victor with eyes big with excitement. "What do you suppose came to him?" "I haven't an idea. He seemed terribly wrought up, though." "We must say good-night." She held out her hand, and he took it. "This has been the finest, most instructive day of my life." She released her hand with a little decisive, dismissing movement. "How nice of you! Signor Morselli should know of it. Good-night!" And the smile with which she left him was delightfully provoking and mirthful. Victor would have gone straight to his mother had he known where to find her, for he was eager to know what had taken place in the deeps of Bartol's study. That she had been able to mystify the great lawyer, he was convinced; and yet, perhaps, this was only temporary. "He will go further. What will he find?" He was standing before his dresser slowly removing his collar and tie when the door opened and his mother entered. She was abnormally wide awake, and her eyes, violet in their intensity, betrayed so much excitement that he exclaimed: "Why, mother, what's the matter? What kind of a session did you have? What has happened to you?" "Victor, father tells me that Mr. Bartol will be convinced. He is the greatest mind I have ever met. If I can bring him to a belief in the spirit world it will be the most important victory of my life." "What did he say to you? What did he think?" "I don't know; and strange to say, I cannot read his mind. He seems convinced of the phenomena, and yet I can't tell for certain. He was skeptical at the beginning, as nearly every one is." Hitherto, at every such opening, Victor had rushed in to pluck the heart out of her mystery, but now he restrained himself, for fear of trapping her into some admission, which would make his own testimony more difficult in court. He took a seat on the bed and regarded her with meditative eyes, and she went on. "The Voices are clamoring round me still. They want to speak to you." "I don't want to hear them--not to-night," he replied, coldly. "Tell them to wait and talk to me when Mr. Bartol is listening." She seemed disappointed and a little hurt by his tone. "Altair is here. She wishes most to speak." Interest awoke in him. "What does she want of me?" She listened. "She says, '_Trust Mr. Bartol._'" He could see nothing, hear nothing, therefore his face lost its light. "Well, we've got to trust him. He's all the help in sight." Something, a breath, the light caress of a hand, passed over his hair, and a whisper that was almost tone spoke in his ear, "_Fear nothing, if you will be guided and protected._"