such a moment is to blunt the sword of the spirit," he replied,
"and human reason is never the handmaid of faith, as you wrongly
suggest, but her obdurate, unsleeping foe. That which metaphysicians
call intuition, and which I call the voice of God, tells me in clear
tones that my boy died by no human agency whatever and by no natural
accident. He was wrapt from this life to the next in the twinkling
of an eye by forces, or a force, concerning which we know nothing
save through the Word of God. I will go farther. I will venture
to declare that this death-dealing ghost, or discarnate but
conscious being, may not be, as you say, a dark angel--perhaps not
wholly evil--perhaps not evil at all. One thing none can question--
it did the will of its Creator, as we all must, and we are not,
therefore, justified in asserting that a malignant force was
exerted. To say so is to speak in terms of our own bitter loss and
our own aching hearts. But we are justified in believing that a
fearful, unknown power was liberated during the night that Tom
died, and I desire to approach that power upon my knees and with
my life in my Maker's hands."

The conviction of this righteous but superstitious soul was uttered
with passionate zeal. He puzzled to understand how fellow
Christians could argue against him, and much resented the fact that
Sir Walter withstood his claim and declined to permit the experiment
he desired to make. A formalist and precisian, he held any sort of
doubt to be backsliding before the message in his own heart. They
argued unavailingly with him, and Henry Lennox suggested a
compromise.

"Why is it vital, after all, that only one should undertake this
ordeal?" he asked. "I begged you to let me try--for revenge."