“And of death?” the doctor asked quietly.  “Will man be able to think himself into an eternity on earth?”

Valentine looked at him very strangely.

“You ask that question seriously?” he said.

“I ask seriously whether you think so.”

It was evident that the doctor meant to make the question above all things a personal one.  This time Valentine accepted that condition.  He sat for a moment twisting his champagne-glass about in his long fingers, and glancing rapidly from the doctor to Cuckoo, who heard this conversation without very well understanding it.  Indeed, she sat beneath her bell of violets in much confusion, distraite in her desire to command intellectual faculties which she did not possess.  Valentine watched her narrowly, though he seemed unattentive to her.  Perhaps he thought of his delivery of his gospel to her, and wondered if she recalled it at this moment; or perhaps once more he began to rejoice in her mental distress and alienation.

“Wade,” he said “the champagne to Mr. Addison.  Well, doctor, suppose I acknowledged that I did so—­mind, I don’t acknowledge it!—­you might, on your side, think something too—­that I am mad, for instance.  Ah!  Miss Bright has knocked over her glass!”

Cuckoo murmured a stumbling apology, gazing with nervous intentness at Valentine.  It seemed to her that he had a gift of divination.  Doctor Levillier laughed gently.

“I am not inclined to suppose all my opponents in thought mad,” he said.  “Still, such a belief would certainly indicate in the holder of it the possession of a mind so uncommon, so unique, I may say, that it would naturally rouse one to very close attention and observation of it.”

“Exactly,” Valentine rejoined.

A certain audacity was slowly creeping into his demeanour and growing while he talked.  It manifested itself in slight gesticulations, conceited movements of the hand and head, in the colour of the voice and the blunt directness of his glances.

“Exactly.  Attention and observation directed towards the object of satisfying yourself that the man—­myself, let us say—­was mad?  You don’t reply.  Let me ask you a question.  Why should a profound belief in human power of will indicate madness?”

“A belief that is not based on any foundation or proof—­that is my point.  An extraordinary belief, personal to one person, rejected by mankind in the mass, and founded upon nothing, no fact, no inference even, in the history of mankind, is decidedly a strong indication of dementia.”

“But suppose it is a belief founded upon a fact?”

“Of course that would entirely alter the matter.”

The two men looked across at one another with a long and direct glance full in the eyes.  Cuckoo watched them anxiously.  Julian sat with his eyes cast down.  He seemed unaware that there was any one near him, any conversation going on around him.  Wade moved softly about, ministering to the wants of his master’s guests.  Course succeeded course.