Stinchfield put out his lamp. "That is astounding," he said. "I cannot analyze that."
"_Will you swear the psychic did not do it?_" asked the Voice.
The engineer hesitated. "Yes," he finally said.
"_Is this sufficient?_" asked the unseen.
Bartol replied. "Sufficient for my argument; but I do not understand these physical effects, and the jury may demand other proof. It will be necessary for us to show that the messages which misled, as well as those which comforted, came from some power outside the psychic and beyond her control. I believe that, as in the case of Anna Rothe--condemned by a German court to a long term of imprisonment--the charge of imposture and swindling made against Mrs. Ollnee must lie, unless I can demonstrate that these messages come from her subconscious self in some occult way, or from personalities other than herself. In fact, the whole case against Mrs. Ollnee lies in the question--does she believe in The Voices as entities existing and acting outside herself--"
He interrupted himself to say: "Something is tapping my hand. It feels like the small tin horn."
"_It is!_" came the answer in such volume that it could be heard all over the room.
"_Does this not prove the medium innocent of ventriloquism?_"
"Stinchfield--what about this?" asked Bartol.
The engineer could only repeat: "I don't understand it. It is out of my range."
Again the red lamp above the cabinet flashed, and by its momentary glow the horn was seen floating high over the cage, in which the medium sat motionless and ghastly white.
"Shall I flashlight that?" asked Stinchfield again.
"_No_," answered the Voice. "_The flashlight is very dangerous. We must use it only for the supreme thing. Be patient!_"
There was no longer any spirit of jocularity in the room. Each one acknowledged the presence of something profoundly mysterious, something capable of transforming physical science from top to bottom, something so far-reaching in its effect on law and morals as to benumb the faculties of those who perceived it. It was in no sense a religious awe with Bartol; it was the humbleness which comes to the greatest minds as they confront the unknowable deeps of matter and of space.
The boy and girl forgot their names, their sex. They touched hands as two infinitely small insects might do in the impenetrable night of their world (their hates as unimportant as their loves). Only the bereaved wife and mother leaned forward with the believer's full faith in the heaven from which the beloved forms of her dead were about to issue.