"No!" the whisper replied.
"Is it Watts?"
"Yes."
"It is Isaac Watts. Now it is his science against yours, Mr. Stinchfield."
Bartol fell into the mode at once. "We are glad to be so honored. Now Watts, I want—and I must have—incontestable proof of the psychic's abnormal power—nothing else can save her from State prison. Do you realize that?"
"We do."
"Very well, proceed."
"What would you call incontestable proof?"
"I should say a registered pressure on the key or the lighting of the lamp above the cabinet—"
A vivid red flash lit up the room. Stinchfield shouted, "The lamp—the lamp was lit!"