"I have heard that Mr. Blake has attempted to write a novel," said
Voltaire. "Perhaps he believes my story is made on the same principle."

"Scarcely," I replied. "My novel was a failure. It caused no sensation
at all. Your story, on the other hand, is a brilliant success. See with
what breathless interest it was listened to, and how it haunts the
memories of your hearers even yet!"

This raised a slight titter. I do not know why it should, save that some
of the young ladies were frightened, and accepted the first opportunity
whereby they could in some way relieve their feelings. Anyhow it aroused
Mr. Voltaire, for, as he looked at me, there was the look of a demon in
his face, and his hand trembled.

"Do you doubt the existence of the forces I have mentioned?" he asked.
"Do you think that the matters to which I have referred exist only in
the mind? Are they, in your idea, no sciences in reality?"

"Pardon me, Mr. Voltaire," I replied, "but I am an Englishman. We are
thought by foreigners to be very conservative, and perhaps there may be
truth in it. Anyhow, I, for one, like tangible proof before I believe in
anything that does not appeal to my reason. Your story does not appear
reasonable, and, although I hope I do not offend you by saying so, I
cannot accept it as gospel."

"Perhaps," said Kaffar, who spoke for the first time, "Mr. Blake would
like some proofs. Perhaps he would like not only to _see_ manifestations
of the power of the unseen, but to _feel_ them. Ah! pardon me, ladies
and gentlemen, but I cannot stand by and hear the greatest of all
sciences maligned, and still be quiet. I cannot be silent when that