He, too, was recovering speech. "I'm glad I have _one_ strong trait. I
was afraid there was nothing about me to make a definite impression on a
proud beauty like you."
"Please don't try to be literary. Stick to your oars and your baseball
raquet."
"Bat," he corrected.
"I meant bat."
"I know you did; but you said raquet."
In this juvenile spat they approached the porch where Mr. Bartol stood
waiting for them.
"Young people," he called, in a voice that somehow voiced a deep
emotion, "do you realize that it is midnight?"
Protesting their amazement, they mounted the steps and entered the
house; but the moment they looked into their host's face they became
serious, perceiving that something very tremendous had taken place in
his laboratory.
"What has happened?" asked Leo. "What did she do?"
"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."