"Through his subconscious powers, of course?"
"That is your usual theory, isn't it? We have there, at any rate, a working hypothesis, with a great mass of evidence—generally speaking—behind it."
"Don't be cynical, Paul. Is this 'N. H.' merely a Secondary Personality, or is it the real central self? That's the whole point."
"You jump ahead, as usual," replied Devonham, really smiling for the first time, though his face instantly grew serious again. "Edward," he went on, "I do not know, I cannot say, I dare not—dare not guess. 'N. H.' is something entirely new to me, and I admit it." He seemed to find his stride, to forget himself. "I feel far from cynical. 'N. H.,' in my opinion, is exceptional. My notes suggested it long ago. He has, for instance—at least, so it seems to me—peculiar powers."
"Ah!"
"Of suggestion, let us put it."
"Of suggestion, yes. Get on with it, there's a good fellow. I felt myself an extraordinary vitality about him. I noticed it at once at Charing Cross."
"I saw you did." Devonham looked hard at him. "You were humming to yourself, you know."
"I didn't know," was the surprised reply, "but I can well believe it. I felt a curious pleasure and exhilaration."
Devonham, shrugging his shoulders slightly, resumed: "During the 'LeVallon' periods he is ordinary, though unusually observant, critical and intelligent; during the 'N. H.' periods he becomes—er—super-normal. If you felt this—felt anything in the station, it was because something in you—called up the 'N. H.' aspect."