When I had sufficiently quieted my mental agitation I wrote instantly to Mr. Corbridge, and in my letter I assumed a very confident tone.  I told him that Mr. Kilbright’s circumstances had so changed that the intended action of the spiritualists in regard to him was now rendered impossible.  He had become an active member of society, had gone into business, and would be married in April.  The mere statement of these facts would, I felt quite certain—­so I wrote—­cause the spiritualists to instantly relinquish all idea of carrying out their previous intention in regard to this most estimable man.  If, however, any inhuman craving for scientific investigation should cause them to persist in their cruel and criminal designs, the utmost power of the law should be invoked against them.  “To take away human life,” I wrote, “in a case like this is murder, no matter how it is done, and should you take away Mr. Kilbright’s life, or even attempt it, you shall be indicted and punished for this cold-blooded and premeditated crime.”

Before I had read this letter, I found it absolutely necessary for my peace of mind that I should make my wife acquainted with the threatened danger, and confer with her as to what it would be well to do.  Of course, Mrs. Colesworthy was greatly shocked when I read her Corbridge’s letter, but she recovered courage sooner than I had done.

“It’s all stuff and nonsense,” she said.  “The man is just as much alive as you and I are, and I don’t believe any human power can turn him into a spirit.  They might kill him, but then he would be a dead man and not a spiritual mist or vapor.  I don’t believe they even intend to try to do anything of the kind.  They merely wish you to hand him over to them so they can make him work for them for little or no pay.  They think, and with good reason, too, that by this time you have taught him how to get along at the present day, and that he may now be of some use to them.”

I showed her the letter I had written, and she highly approved of it.  “If I were you,” she said, “I would send that letter, and then I would not do another thing.  Take my word for it, you will never hear from those people again.”

We resolved, of course, that we would say nothing to Mr. Kilbright or Lilian about this matter, for it was unwise to needlessly trouble their minds; but we could not help talking about it a great deal ourselves.  In spite of the reassuring arguments which we continually thought of, or spoke of to each other, we were troubled, anxious, and apprehensive.

“If we could only get them safely married,” said Mrs. Colesworthy, “I should feel at ease.  Certainly those people would not do anything to him then.”

“I don’t believe they can do anything to him at all,” I answered.  “But how a marriage is going to protect him I cannot imagine.”

“Of course, you can’t explain such things,” said my wife, “but I do wish they were married and settled.”