"Though never yet in human form," put in Lattimer, yet sympathetically. "Their bodies, I mean, aren't human," he added.
"Exactly. That's true. But the gods, the fauns, the satyrs, the elemental beings, as we call 'em—sylphs, undines, gnomes and salamanders—to say nothing of fairies et hoc genus omne—there must be some reasonable foundation for their persistence through all the ages."
"They all belong to the Deva Evolution," Dickson mentioned with conviction. "In the East it's been known and recognized for centuries, hasn't it? Another evolutionary system that runs parallel to ours. From planetary spirits down to elementals, they're concerned with the building up of form in the various kingdoms——"
"Yes, yes," Povey interrupted impatiently. Dickson was stealing what he had meant to say himself and to say, he flattered himself, far better. "We know all that, of course. They stand behind what we call the laws of nature, non-human activities and intelligences of every grade and kind. They work for humanity in a way, are in other space and time, deathless, of course, yet—in some strange way, always eager to cross the gulf fixed between the two and so find a soul. They are impersonal in a sense, as impersonal as, say, wind and fire through which some of them operate as bodies."
He paused and looked about him, noting the interested attention he awaked.
"There may be times," he went on, "there probably are certain occasions, when the gulf is more crossable than others." He laid down his knife and fork as a sympathetic murmur proved that the point he was leading up to was favourably understood already. "We have had this war, for instance," he stated, his voice taking on a more significant and mysterious tone. "Dislodged by the huge upheaval, man's soul is on the march again." He paused once more. "They," he concluded, lowering his voice still more, and emphasizing the pronoun, "are possibly already among us! Who knows?"
He glanced round. "We do; we know," was the expression on most faces. All knew precisely what he meant and to whom he referred, at any rate.
"You might get him to come and lecture to us," said Dickson, the first to break the pause. "You might ask Dr. Fillery. You know him."
"That's an idea——" began the Secretary, when there was a commotion near the door. His face showed annoyance.
It was the arrival of Toogood that at this moment disturbed the atmosphere and robbed Povey of the effect he aimed at. It provided Kempster, however, with an idea at the same time. "Here's a psychometrist!" he exclaimed, making room for him. "He might get a bit of his hair or clothing and psychometrize it. He might tell us about his past, if not exactly what he is."