“You never know who are your friends. They slip away like water when it comes to the pinch.”
“Well, I won’t for one,” said Malone, heartily. “Keep me in touch with what is going on. But I called because I had something to ask you.”
“I am sorry, but I am really not fit,” Linden held out a quivering hand.
“No, no, nothing psychic. I simply wanted to ask you whether the presence of a strong sceptic would stop all your phenomena?”
“Not necessarily. But, of course, it makes everything more difficult. If they will be quiet and reasonable we can get results. But they know nothing, break every law, and ruin their own sittings. There was old Sherbank, the doctor, the other day. When the raps came on the table he jumped up, put his hand on the wall, and cried, ‘Now then, put a rap on the palm of my hand within five seconds.’ Because he did not get it he declared it was all humbug and stamped out of the room. They will not admit that there are fixed laws in this as in everything else.”
“Well, I must confess that the man I am thinking of might be quite as unreasonable. It is the great Professor Challenger.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard he is a hard case.”
“Would you give him a sitting?”
“Yes, if you desired it.”
“He won’t come to you or to any place you name. He imagines all sorts of wires and contrivances. You might have to come down to his country house.”