"You successful scoundrel!" he cried. "You and your villainous
confederate Grey. I tell you----"

The blood rushed to his mouth; he fell upon the pavement and died. One
and the same day had robbed him of his land and his life.

Bernard Heaton deeply regretted the tragic issue, but went on with his
researches at the Hall, keeping much to himself. Lawyer Grey, who had
won renown by his conduct of the celebrated case, was almost his only
friend. To him Heaton partially disclosed his hopes, told what he had
learned during those years he had been lost to the world in India, and
claimed that if he succeeded in combining the occultism of the East
with the science of the West, he would make for himself a name of
imperishable renown.

The lawyer, a practical man of the world, tried to persuade Heaton to
abandon his particular line of research, but without success.

"No good can come of it," said Grey. "India has spoiled you. Men who
dabble too much in that sort of thing go mad. The brain is a delicate
instrument. Do not trifle with it."

"Nevertheless," persisted Heaton, "the great discoveries of the
twentieth century are going to be in that line, just as the great
discoveries of the nineteenth century have been in the direction of
electricity."

"The cases are not parallel. Electricity is a tangible substance."