"I can't forget that."
"Have you any idea what the tests are to be?" she asked, in an effort to
change the subject.
"No, I'm outside of it all. I hope they won't scare my poor little
mother out of her senses. Ought I to step in and stop it?"
"No, not unless The Voices say so. They welcome investigation--so
they've always said. What I should insist on, if I were you, is plenty
of time and a series of sittings."
She was speaking now in gracious mood, and he, eager to win from her a
fuller expression of forgiveness, spoke again, bravely. "I hope you are
not going to be angry with me?"
"Not at all," she replied, with disheartening, impersonal cordiality. "I
was partly to blame. I forgot you were a hot-headed boy."
"Don't take that tone with me--I won't stand it!"
"How can you help it?" she answered, with a smile, and moved toward the
end of the table where Bartol and Stinchfield still sat smoking and
leisurely sipping their coffee.
The little engineer sprang up as she drew near, and stood like a soldier
at attention as she said, "Are you in merciless mood to-night, Mr.
Stinchfield?"
"Far from it," he responded. "I'm in a receptive mood. The fact that Mr.
Bartol has found enough in this subject to wish to investigate
predisposes me to open-mindedness."
"Suppose we go into the library," suggested Bartol, and they all
followed him across the hall.
Leo walked with the engineer, leaving Victor in the rear, hurt and
suffering sorely.
It was not so much her displayed interest in Stinchfield as her haughty
disregard of himself that touched his self-esteem. Thereafter he sulked
like the boy she declared him to be.
When his mother came in robed in black and looking the sad young widow
he was on the verge of rebellion against the whole plan of action, but
he kept silence while Bartol explained his design.
"It is customary for 'mediums' to have things their own way, but in this
case Mrs. Ollnee has placed herself entirely in my hands. The tests will
be made in my study." He turned the key and unlocked the door. "Mr.
Stinchfield will enter first and see that the room is as we left it."
The engineer entered, and after a moment's survey called: "All is
untouched. Come in."
Bartol led the way with Mrs. Ollnee, and when Victor, the last to enter,
had paced slowly over the threshold Stinchfield locked the door and
handed the key to his host. The inquisition was begun.
The most notable furnishing of the room was a battery of three cameras,
so arranged that they could be operated instantaneously, and Mrs. Joyce
asked, anxiously, "Has the band consented to this?"
"They have consented to a trial," answered Mrs. Ollnee, in a faint
voice. She had grown very pale, and her hands were trembling. To Victor
this seemed like the tremor of terror, and his heart was aching with
pity.
On one side of the room a deep alcove lined with books had been turned
into a dark-room by means of curtains, and before these draperies stood
the inevitable wooden table, but beside it, inclosing a chair, was a
conical cage of wire netting encircled by bands of copper.