definite reason and a cause for them. I believe in the devil, in
the Powers of Darkness, Lawford, as firmly as I believe he and
they are powerless--in the long run. They--what shall we say?--
have surrendered their intrinsicality. You can just go through
evil, as you can go through a sewer, and come out on the other
side too. A loathsome process too. But there--we are not speaking
of any such monstrosities, and even if we were, you and I with
God's help would just tire them out. And that ally gone, our poor
dear old Mrs Grundy will at once capitulate. Eh? Eh?'

Through all this long and arduous harangue, consciousness, like
the gradual light of dawn, had been flooding that other brain.
And the face that now confronted Mr Bethany, though with his
feeble unaided sight he could only very obscurely discern it, was
vigilant and keen, in every sharp-cut hungry feature.

A rather prolonged silence followed, the visitor peering mutely.
The black eyes nearly closed, the face turned slowly towards the
window, saw burnt-out candle, comprehensive glass.

'Yes, yes.' he said; 'I'll send for Simon at once.'

'Good,' said Mr Bethany, and more doubtfully repeated 'good.'
'Now there's only one thing left,' he went on cheerfully. 'I have
jotted down a few test questions here; they are questions no one
on this earth could answer but you, Lawford. They are merely for
external proofs. You won't, you can't, mistake my motive. We
cannot foretell or foresee what need may arise for just such
jog-trot primitive evidence. I propose that you now answer them
here, in writing.'