“You will trust me, I know,” he continued.  “You will believe me.  All my life I have laboured for science.  I have never been selfish.  I have laid up no store of gold or treasure.  Knowledge has been my mistress, knowledge has been my heaven.  If I had been a wise man, I would have ridden myself of this hideous burden, but I was foolish and afraid.  I wanted to pursue my studies, I wanted to be left in peace, so I let that fiend prey upon my fears.  But now—­now I feel that the burden has rolled away.  I shall tell you my story, and afterwards I will do great things yet, great things for science, great things for the world.”

They listened to him, spellbound.  Only Lenora stood a little apart with a faint frown upon her forehead.  She touched Quest on the shoulder.

“Mr. Quest,” she murmured, “he is lying!”

Quest turned his head.  His lips scarcely moved.

“What do you mean?” he whispered.

“He is lying!” Lenora insisted.  “I tell you there’s another creature there, something we don’t understand.  Let me bring the Electro-thought transference apparatus; let us read his mind.  If I am wrong, I will go down on my knees and beg for forgiveness.”

Quest nodded.  Lenora hastened to the further end of the room, snatched the cloth from the instrument and wheeled down the little mirror with its coils and levers.  The Professor watched her.  Slowly his face changed.  The benevolence faded away, his teeth for a moment showed in something which was almost a snarl.

“You believe me?” he cried, turning to Quest.  “You are not going to try that horrible thing on me—­Professor Lord Ashleigh?  I am all broken up.  I am not fit for it.  Look at my hands, how they shake.”

“Professor,” Quest said sternly, “we are surrounded by the shadow of some terrible deeds for which as yet there is no explanation.  I do not say that we mistrust you, but I ask you to submit to this test.”

“I refuse!” the Professor replied harshly.

“And I insist,” Quest muttered.

The Professor drew a little breath.  He sat back in his chair.  His face became still, his lips were drawn closely together.  Lenora wheeled up the machine and with deft fingers adjusted the fittings on one side.  Quest himself connected it up on the other.  The Professor sat there like a figure of stone.  The silence in the room was so intense that the ticking of the small clock upon the mantelpiece was clearly audible.  The silent battle of wills seemed like a live and visible struggle.  The very atmosphere seemed charged with the thrill and wonder of it.  Never before had Quest met with resistance so complete and immovable.  For the first time the thought of failure oppressed him.  Even that slight slackening of his rigid concentration brought relief to the Professor.  Without any knowledge as to the source of their conviction, the two girls who watched felt that the Professor was becoming dominant.  And then there came a sudden queer change.  The intangible triumph of the Professor’s stony poise seemed to fade away.  His eyes had sought the corner of the room, his lips quivered.  The horror was there again, the horror they had seen before.  He crouched a little back.  His hands were uplifted as though to keep off some evil thing.