“My friends,” rumbled Moris Klaw, impressively, “we are fortunate. We
have passed through scorching fires unscathed!”
He applied himself with vigour to the operating of the scent spray.
“God forgive me!” said Brearley. “What did I do?”
“I will tell you, my friend,” replied Klaw; “you clothed a thought in
the beautiful form which you knew as your sister! Ah! You stare!
Ritual, my friends, is the soul of what the ignorant call magic. With
the sacred incense, _kyphi_ (yes, I detected it!), you invoked secret
powers. Those powers, Mr. Brearley, were but _thoughts_. All such
forces are thoughts.
“Thoughts are things--and you gathered together in this house, by that
ancient formula, a thought thing created by generations of worshippers
who have worshipped the moon!
“The light that we saw was only the moonlight, the sounds that we
heard were thought-sounds. But so powerful was this mighty
thought-force, this centuries-old power which you loosed upon us, that
it drove out Miss Ailsa’s own thoughts from her mind, bringing what
she mistook for sleep; and it implanted itself there!
“She was transformed by that mighty power which for a time dwelled
within her. She was as powerful, as awful, as a goddess! None might
look upon her and be sane. Hypnotism has similarities with the ancient
science of thought--yes! _Suggestion_ is the secret of all so-called
occult phenomena!”
With his eyes gleaming oddly, he stepped forward, resting his long
white hands upon Fairbank’s shoulders.
“Doctor,” he rumbled, “you have a bruise on your forehead.”
“Have I?” said Fairbank, in surprise. “I hadn’t noticed it.”
“Because it is not a physical bruise; it is a mental bruise,
physically reflected! Nearly were you slain, my friend--oh, so nearly!
But another force--as great as the force of ancient thought--weakened
the blow. Doctor Fairbank, it is fortunate that Miss Ailsa loves you!”
His frank words startled us all.
“Look well at the shape of this little bruise, my friends,” continued
Moris Klaw. “Mr. Brearley--it is a shape that will be familiar to you.
See! it is thus.” He drew an imaginary outline with his long
forefinger--
“And that is the sign of Isis!”