“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “evidently Mr. Blake, with his hard English common-sense, has raised some amount of doubt in your minds as to the validity of my story and of our performance.  I am sure you will allow me to vindicate and prove any assertion I have made.  If I have claimed a knowledge of the mysterious, I have not done so without reason.”

“We believe that is true,” said Miss Staggles; “we believe you are a wonderful man.”

“Thank you,” said Voltaire.  “I am sure I have Miss Staggles’ sympathies, but will some one assist me in what I am about to do?  I will allow no possibility of a system in this, and consequently I shall be glad if any gentleman will help me in the manifestation of the hidden powers of the human mind.  Perhaps”—­turning, I thought, eagerly to me—­“Mr. Blake will be the one?”

“No,” I said; “I prefer to be a spectator.”

I could no longer mistake the hate that flashed from his eyes; but he said nothing, and waited quietly for a volunteer.  No one was forthcoming.  At length Tom Temple said—­

“Would one of the servants do, Voltaire?”

“I would rather have a visitor,” said Voltaire, “and for two reasons:  first, you could not then have any reason for suspecting a collusion; and, second, the ordinary English servant is extremely unsusceptible to the play of higher powers.  If, however, none of you will volunteer, I can see no other alternative.”

Accordingly, a man about my own age was brought in, and introduced as Simon Slowden.  I saw that he was no ordinary character as soon as he entered, and was by no means one who could be easily imposed upon.  I afterwards found that Simon had spent his boyhood in London, had when a youth joined a travelling circus, and tramped the country for a few years.  He had also travelled with several “shows,” two or three travelling theatres, and had finally settled down with a lame leg at Temple Hall, where he made himself generally useful.

His dialect was a mixture of the Cockney and a dozen others equally bad, until it was almost impossible to tell from that source the part of the country from which he hailed.  He was, however, a good-hearted fellow, and for a wonder, considering his history, as honest as the day.

“Now, Simon,” said Tom Temple, “this gentleman is a scientist and wants to show some experiments, and he can’t get any one to assist him, so I thought I’d ask you.”

“Well,” said Simon, “I don’t know as I think mich on these science gents.  They’re allays a-bringin’ in some new-fangled thing or other, but generally there’s nowt in ’em.  Still, to ’blige the company, I’ll do owt raisonable.  I’m tough has a crocodile’s tongue, and can stand a goodish bit o’ jingo and nonsense.  Here goes, yer honour.”  Voltaire eyed him doubtfully, and Simon coolly returned the stare.

“You are not a-gwine to waccinate me, be ’ee?” said Simon at length.