"Murder!" I cried.
"He does not scruple to conceal the fact. He declares he has nothing to fear. He pretends to possess a secret which gives him as great a power over life and death as Providence. An esoteric power, of course. It is connected with the discovery of Ptahmes. He claims to have already tested it. My father has used it in other ways. He has been experimenting on the Stock Exchange. In ten days he has already doubled his fortune. Surely of that you must have heard."
"I have heard that he has been speculating with extravagant success. But that his luck was due to supernatural agency I decline to believe. In my opinion Belleville is simply putting up a scoundrelly game of bluff."
"I wish I could think so, too. But I cannot."
"But, my dear girl, consider the probabilities. Belleville's story belongs to the Middle Ages."
"Yes—but he believes it. I am as sure of that as that I live."
"And is that a reason why you should believe it, too? The man is perhaps a lunatic."
"Ah!" she said. "I knew that you would take this view. That was partly why I felt you could not help me."
But her distress cut me to the quick. "It does not matter what view I take," I muttered hastily. "I'll do anything you wish."