Then he hesitated for a moment, searching the doctor's face anxiously.

"And your experiment with the house?" he said at length.

"Of the simplest character, my dear Mr. Pender. Although I am myself an
artificially trained psychic, and consequently aware of the presence of
discarnate entities as a rule, I have so far felt nothing here at all.
This makes me sure that the forces acting here are of an unusual
description. What I propose to do is to make an experiment with a view
of drawing out this evil, coaxing it from its lair, so to speak, in
order that it may _exhaust itself through me_ and become dissipated for
ever. I have already been inoculated," he added; "I consider myself to
be immune."

"Heavens above!" gasped the author, collapsing on to a chair.

"Hell beneath! might be a more appropriate exclamation," the doctor
laughed. "But, seriously, Mr. Pender, this is what I propose to do--with
your permission."

"Of course, of course," cried the other, "you have my permission and my
best wishes for success. I can see no possible objection, but--"

"But what?"

"I pray to Heaven you will not undertake this experiment alone, will
you?"

"Oh, dear, no; not alone."