He fell silent again while his mind reviewed the entire process. Then he burst out, vehemently, on a new line. "I can't believe my eyes. You've hypnotized me. Mother, for God's sake don't juggle with me--don't play tricks with me. I won't stand for it. It hurts me--" He paused, confused, baffled, ready to weep. "Can you, my own son, accuse me of trickery?" she asked. "You _think_ you're honest, mother--but don't you see you've become an _unconscious hypnotist_? It's your subconscious self deceiving us both. I don't know how you do it, but I know it must be a fraud." "Victor," she said, solemnly, "what this power is you shall have full opportunity to determine, but I say to you that for more than twenty years I've been guided by these unseen presences. I've tested their wisdom and lived under their care. So far as this message is concerned I accept it. I was confused and frightened yesterday, but this morning I am calm. I shall do as they bid. I shall stay here while you go down into the city and see what you can find to do, and together we will test these voices." There was a ring of new-found decision in her tone that quite dashed him. He sat dumbly facing her, helpless in a whirl of mental storm. "Is she more cunning than I thought? Is she playing a more complex game than appears?" These thoughts vaguely shaped themselves. Then his filial self answered: "But what has she to gain? She loves me. She has sacrificed herself to keep me at school--why should she deceive me?" Here again a third conception came to embitter him. He spoke. "You don't seem to mind my loss of a degree?" "Yes, I do, Victor. I feel that very deeply, but the higher wisdom of your grandfather resigns me. I cannot tell what is behind it. By his power to read the future he may be preventing some terrible accident, some calamity by fire or water--I have an impression that it is something of that sort." "_No_," came a whisper from the air. She turned her face upward, and, listening intently, asked, "What is the reason, father?" "_Discipline_," the whisper replied. "He says 'discipline,' Victor." "Discipline!" he echoed. "Why should I be disciplined? What have I done?" "_It is not what you've done--it's what you are to do._" The Voice did not reply to further questions, and the silence gave out a kind of cold contempt, which cut the boy as he waited. "Let's try that slate business again," he said at last. But to this his mother would not consent. "It's of no use," she said. "They are gone. There is no 'power' present." He again faced her with alien, accusing eyes. "When will you try this again?" "To-night, when you come home." "Home!" he sneered, looking about. "Do you expect me to call this place home? Do you expect me to hang about this scrubby hole to be disciplined by your Voices?" The sound of a knock at the door gave her a moment's respite. "The postman," she explained as she rose to go to the door.