Not till I had finished did I raise my eyes to his, and then his fixed my gaze so steadfastly that I could not withdraw it—­those fascinating serpent eyes.  But involuntarily, and if the words that translated my thought were dragged from me, I added in a low whisper, “I have been a student in the mysteries of life and nature; of those mysteries I have known the occult professors.  I have the right to speak to you thus.”  And I uttered a certain pass-word.

“Well,” said he, dryly, “I concede the right—­what would you ask?”

“To what extent human will in certain temperaments can extend?”

“To what extent can thought extend?  Think, and before you draw breath you are in China!”

“True.  But my thought has no power in China.”

“Give it expression, and it may have:  you may write down a thought which, sooner or later, may alter the whole condition of China.  What is a law but a thought?  Therefore thought is infinite—­therefore thought has power; not in proportion to its value—­a bad thought may make a bad law as potent as a good thought can make a good one.”

“Yes; what you say confirms my own theory.  Through invisible currents one human brain may transmit its ideas to other human brains with the same rapidity as a thought promulgated by visible means.  And as thought is imperishable—­as it leaves its stamp behind it in the natural world even when the thinker has passed out of this world—­so the thought of the living may have power to rouse up and revive the thoughts of the dead—­such as those thoughts were in life—­though the thought of the living cannot reach the thoughts which the dead now may entertain.  Is it not so?”

“I decline to answer, if, in my judgment, thought has the limit you would fix to it; but proceed.  You have a special question you wish to put.”

“Intense malignity in an intense will, engendered in a peculiar temperament, and aided by natural means within the reach of science, may produce effects like those ascribed of old to evil magic.  It might thus haunt the walls of a human habitation with spectral revivals of all guilty thoughts and guilty deeds once conceived and done within those walls; all, in short, with which the evil will claims rapport and affinity—­imperfect, incoherent, fragmentary snatches at the old dramas acted therein years ago.  Thoughts thus crossing each other haphazard, as in the nightmare of a vision, growing up into phantom sights and sounds, and all serving to create horror, not because those sights and sounds are really visitations from a world without, but that they are ghastly monstrous renewals of what have been in this world itself, set into malignant play by a malignant mortal.