"She is very anxious, you know—"
Kate put in her word. "It's all very simple," she said; "the spirits did it. You needn't tell me that Clarke or Mrs. Lambert got up and skittered around the room doing those things. I held their hands—and know they didn't get away. Besides, how did that glass come there? and how could they make those voices sound so natural? What is the use of being stupidly stubborn? If you treat Viola fairly she will confound your science."
"You base all this on one imperfect test?"
"I don't know what you'd call a perfect one. Anyhow, that child is absolutely honest."
"I hope you are right, Kate; but there are some serious discrepancies—even in to-night's performances. Nothing took place which I could not do sitting in her chair with my hands free."
"But her hands weren't free! If there is any virtue in cotton fibre or steel she remained precisely where we set her at the beginning."
"But to admit that one book was moved from its place is to admit that a force exists unknown to science."
"But what are you going to do? Did you do it? Or did I? Did Clarke reach from where he sat and manipulate the horn? Who brought the old wine-glass from the china-closet? No one entered from the outside—that is certain. And then the things 'Loggy' said?"
"What do you think, Dr. Weissmann?"
Weissmann looked up abstractedly. "If Clarke performed these feats to-night he is wasting his time in any profession but jugglery. You said the cone touched you?" he asked of Morton.