Victor leaped up impulsively, his hair on end with fright, and the apparition vanished precisely as though an open door had been closed between it and the observer.
Again Mrs. Joyce clutched him. "Be careful! Sit down; don't stir!"
"Somebody is playing a joke on me," he insisted, hotly. "I'm going to strike a light."
Again a voice, this time almost full-toned, but with a metallic accompaniment, as though it had passed through a horn, poured into his ear, "You shall bow to our wisdom."
He braced himself to receive a blow, and answered through his set teeth: "I will not. I am master of myself, and I don't intend to take orders from you."
"You are fighting great powers. You will fail," the voice replied. "Your heart is defiant. Expect punishment."
Victor threw out his left hand in rage. It came into contact with something in the air, something light and hollow, which fell crashing to the floor, and a faint, gasping, indrawn breath from the sleeper on the bed followed it. For an instant all was silent; then Mrs. Joyce cried out:
"She has returned! Your mother has returned! Don't strike a light. Wait a moment." She moved forward a little. "May I touch her?" she asked.
Victor thought she was speaking to him, but before he could reply the invisible one whispered: "Yes. Approach slowly."
Mrs. Joyce laid her hand on the sleeper's brow. "She's warmer, Victor! She's breathing! She has certainly come back to us."