“Did you not think I had the better last night?”
“I thought your address was very eloquent.”
“Did I not convince you?”
“Not in the face of the evidence of my own senses.”
“Any conjuror could deceive your senses.”
“I fear, sir, that my mind is made up on this point.”
“Then my mind is made up also,” roared Challenger, with a sudden glare. “You will leave this house, sir, and you will return when you have regained your sanity.”
“One moment!” said Malone. “I beg, sir, that you will not be precipitate. I value your friendship too much to risk the loss of it if it can, in any way, be avoided. Possibly if I had your guidance, I would better understand these things that puzzle me. If I should be able to arrange it would you mind being present personally at one of these demonstrations so that your own trained powers of observation may throw a light upon the things that have puzzled me.”
Challenger was enormously open to flattery. He plumed and preened himself now like some great bird.
“If, my dear Malone, I can help you to get this taint—what shall we call it?—microbus spiritualensis—out of your system, I am at your service. I shall be happy to devote a little of my spare time to exposing those specious fallacies to which you have fallen so easy a victim. I would not say that you are entirely devoid of brains, but that your good nature is liable to be imposed upon. I warn you that I shall be an exacting enquirer and bring to the investigation those laboratory methods of which it is generally admitted that I am a master.”