“Julian,” Valentine said at last, abruptly, “I wish you would promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“To drop this fellow, Marr.  He has nothing to do with us, and it is a decided impertinence, this curiosity he shows in our doings.  Don’t answer any more of his questions.  Tell him to keep his advice to himself.  And if you really believe he is obtaining an influence over you, avoid him.”

“You talk as if you disliked him.”

“I feel as if I hated him.”

“A man you have never even seen?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t take to him, and I have seen him.  I will drop him as much as I can.  I promise you that.”

“Thank you, old boy.”

Julian fidgetted about rather uneasily, touching the ornaments on the mantelpiece, opening and shutting his silver cigarette-case with a click.  It was obvious that he felt restless and dissatisfied.  Then he said: 

“Well, are we going to—­”

“Surely you don’t mean to say that you came here to-night to persuade me into doing again what we both decided not to do any more?” asked Valentine.

“I came to try,” Julian replied with decision.

He looked at Valentine and then added: 

“And do you know I have been thinking, especially to-day, that you were of the same mind as I.”

“How?”

“That you wanted to sit again as much as I did.”

“But I don’t know Marr,” Valentine said, with unusual sarcasm.

Julian flushed red, like a man who has been stung.

“Perhaps he influences you through me, though,” he said with a laugh.

“What nonsense, Julian!  If I thought he had anything to do with the matter, I would never sit again.  But he can have nothing to do with it.”

“Of course not.  So will you sit?  You want to give in.  I know that.”

“I do”

“I was sure of it.”

“At the same time, remember the doctor’s advice.”

“Oh, doctors are always against that sort of thing.”

“Julian, I have a strong feeling that, should we ever get any manifestation at all, it will be inimical, even deadly, to one or both of us.  Each time we have sat a sensation of distress has taken hold of me, and each time with greater force.”

“Nerves!”

“Well, then, the hand which you say you held was nerves?”

“Perhaps.  But that is just it.  I must know, or at least try to know.  It is inevitable.  We can’t stop now, Val, whether we are standing on the threshold of good, or evil, or—­nothing at all.  We have got to go on.  Besides, you and I have not effected an exchange.”

“Of souls?  No.  Perhaps it is an imbecile proceeding to try.”

“No matter.”

“Or a dangerous proceeding.”

“You are temporizing, and the night is running away as hard as it can.  Come, now, will you do what I want—­yes or no?”

After a long hesitation, Valentine slowly answered: