In the dark, indeed, but not in silence. A tumult of agonized voices filled the laboratory. And over them all a brave voice beat in upon the sound with the strong and regular assurance of a great bell, a bell like the mighty mass of metal which hangs in the ancient belfry of Bruges.
Lord Malvin was calling to them to be calm and silent, was telling them that he knew what all this meant and that they must be of courage and good cheer.
Then some one struck a match. It was Lord Landsend, his face very white and serious. He held it up above his head and called to Lord Malvin.
"Here you are, Sir," he said. "I will get down to you in a second. Then we can find the switch to turn on the electric light."
He stumbled down to where Lord Malvin sat,—showing the value of the practical man and polo player in a crisis—and together the two peers, the famous and honoured scientist and the wealthy young man whom the world flattered and called dilettante and a fool, went their way to the switch-table in the guiding light of this small torch.
Suddenly a blaze of light dispelled the darkness and showed a company of ghosts looking at each other with weeping faces.
It showed also the figure of a girl sunk upon its chair in a deadly swoon. And it showed also the body of Sir William Gouldesbrough lying upon the floor between the series of machines and the screen upon the opposite wall. The dead face was so horrible that some one ran up immediately and covered it with a handkerchief.
This was Lord Landsend.
The tumult was indescribable, but by sheer power of authority and wisdom Lord Malvin calmed them all. His hand was raised as the hand of a conductor holds the vehemence of a band in check.
In a few short trenchant sentences he told them the history of the strange occurrence which Donald Megbie and Mrs. Poole had brought to his notice; and even as he told them, Sir Harold Oliver and Lady Poole were bringing back the unconscious girl to life and realization.