a seeker after truth. [_Puts more sugar in his coffee_.

PETER. That's what they _all_ are--seekers after truth. Rubbish! Do you
really believe such stuff?

DR. MACPHERSON. I know that the dead are alive. They're here--here--near
us--close at hand. [PETER, _in derision, lifts the table-cloth and peeps
under the table--then, taking the lid off the sugar-bowl, peers into it_.]
Some of the great scientists of the day are of the same opinion.

PETER. Bah! Dreamers! They accomplish nothing in the world. They waste
their lives dreaming of the world to come.

DR. MACPHERSON. You can't call Sir Charles Crookes, the inventor of
Crookes Tubes,--a waster? Nor Sir Oliver Lodge, the great biologist; nor
Curie, the discoverer of radium; nor Doctor Lombroso, the founder of
Science of Criminology; nor Doctors Maxwell, deVesmé, Richet, Professor
James, of Harvard, and our own Professor Hyslop. Instead of laughing at
ghosts, the scientific men of to-day are trying to lay hold of them. The
frauds and cheats are being crowded from the field. Science is only just
peeping through the half-opened door which was shut until a few years ago.

PETER. If ever I see a ghost, I shall lay violent hands upon it and take
it to the police station. That's the proper place for frauds.

DR. MACPHERSON. I'm sorry, Peter, very sorry, to see that you, like too
many others, make a jest of the most important thing in life. Hyslop is
right: man will spend millions to discover the North Pole, but not a penny
to discover his immortal destiny.