Sir Henry sprang to the switch. Instantly the place went to shadow; there was just enough light from the moon to distinguish the several forms grouped in the middle of the room. Dr. Hansen proffered a chair.
“Thank you! Ah! Dr. Hansen! You are here—I had thought—This is much better! I can see fairly well now. You came very near to blinding me permanently! You didn't know. It's the transition.” Then: “And yet—of course! It's the moon! THE MOON!”
He stopped. There was a strange wistfulness in the last word. And suddenly he rose to his feet. He turned in gladness, as though to drink in the mellow flow of the radiance.
“The moon! Gentlemen—doctor—who are these people? This is the house of the Blind Spot! And it is the moon—the good old earth! And San Francisco!”
He stopped again. There was a bit of indecision and of wonder mixed with his gladness. The stillness was only broken by the scarcely audible voice of Mme. Le Fabre.
“Now we KNOW! It is proven. The sceptics have always asked why the spirits work only in the half light. We know now.”
Watson looked to Dr. Hansen. “Who is this lady? Who are these others?”
“Can you see them?”
“Perfectly. It is the lady in the corner; she thinks—”
“That you are a spirit!”