Conjurer. I will take off my cloak when you take off your coat.
Smith. [Smiling.] Why? Do you want me to fight?
Conjurer. [Violently.] I want you to be martyred. I want you to bear witness to your own creed. I say these things are supernatural. I say this was done by a spirit. The Doctor does not believe me. He is an agnostic; and he knows everything. The Duke does not believe me; he cannot believe anything so plain as a miracle. But what the devil are you for, if you don't believe in a miracle? What does your coat mean, if it doesn't mean that there is such a thing as the supernatural? What does your cursed collar mean if it doesn't mean that there is such a thing as a spirit? [Exasperated.] Why the devil do you dress up like that if you don't believe in it? [With violence.] Or perhaps you don't believe in devils?
Smith. I believe.... [After a pause.] I wish I could believe.
Conjurer. Yes. I wish I could disbelieve.
[Enter Patricia pale and in the slight négligée of the amateur nurse.
Patricia. May I speak to the Conjurer?
Smith. [Hastening forward.] You want the Doctor?
Patricia. No, the Conjurer.
Doctor. Are there any developments?