"Every one has. Why, De Roche has actually photographed one, by means of radio-photography."
Grimm lay back in his chair and shouted aloud with laughter.
"Mind you," went on McPherson, laboriously anxious to make clear his point, "they could not see it when they were photographing it."
"No, I should imagine not. Nor the picture after it was taken. But in other respects, I don't doubt it was a splendid likeness."
"Wait, before you try to be funny. Wait till I tell you about it. This 'envelope' or Shadow Self stood a few feet away from the sleeper. It was invisible, of course, to the eye. It was only located by striking the air and watching for the corresponding portion of the sleeper's body to recoil. By pricking a certain part of the Shadow Self with a pin, the cheek of the patient could be made to bleed. It was at that spot that the camera was focussed for fifteen minutes! The result was----"
"No, the profile of a head!" contradicted Dr. McPherson.
"And you actually _believe_ such idiocy?" he demanded.
"It isn't a mere question of belief," declared McPherson, "but of absolute _knowledge_. De Roche, who took the picture, is not a fraud, but a lawyer of high standing. A room full of famous scientists saw the picture taken."
"If they were honest, they were hypnotised."
"Perhaps you think the camera was hypnotised, too," retorted the doctor. "Lombroso says that once under similar circumstances an unnatural current of cold air went through the room and lowered the thermometer several degrees. These are _facts_. Can you hypnotise a thermometer?"
"Oh, isn't that wonderful?" breathed Kathrien.
Grimm patted her shoulder gently, smiling as one might smile who sees a dearly loved child taken in by a wonder-story. Then he turned to McPherson, the banter in face and voice changed to mild reproof.
"No, Andrew," said he, reaching for his long meerschaum pipe and holding its coffee-brown bowl lovingly between his thick fingers, as he proceeded to fill it from a pouch on the mantel, "No, Andrew. I refuse your compact. I'll have no part or parcel in it. Because it's an impossible thing you ask of me. We don't come back. One cannot pick the lock of Heaven's gate. It is no part of our terms with the Almighty. God did enough for _us_ when He gave us life and gave us the strength to work, and then gave us work to do. He owes us no explanation. I'll take my chances on the old-fashioned Paradise--with a locked gate. No bogies for me."