Despite Masters's effort to be calm, the hoarse and strangled note in his voice betrayed him. He must do more than count ten now. Snapping the rubber band round his notebook, he carefully put it in his pocket
"Sir," he continued, as one who weighs his words but gets louder and louder, "I've been mixed up in these cases for more years than I'd like to count I get the credit Oh, ah! But I've got blood-pressure, and I've got a family to think of!"
"Sh-h! Quiet! Don't wake up the house!"
"I've been kicked in the pants," said Masters. "I've been hocussed and flummoxed. I've had poisonous snakes dropped at my feet. I've been told to face a mob of reporters, without a word to say for myself, when you'd promised a world-beater of a story. All right: that's fair enough; I don't complain. But this is too much. —Reincarnation!" breathed Masters, and clasped his hands in prayer to heaven.
"Sh-h, now! Sh-h! Sh-h-h!"
Masters subsided. A healing peace settled through the room.
"And now," bellowed H.M., in a voice which made the curtains quiver, "are you goin' to stop being a goop and listen to a word of explanation?"
Masters was silent
"I've been reading a lot of literature," continued H.M. "I don't believe it as I oughter, because I don't remember as much as I oughter. But there was one thing I did read, and it slipped through without more than scratching the surface of the old man's mind, until somethin' was said that made me remember. And it tore the hocus-pocus wide open. Now do you see?"
Masters peered at him suspiciously.