“My informant tells me,” continued the reporter, “that Mr. Hallowell has embraced—if that’s what you call it—spiritualism.”
Gaylor started forward.
“What!” he roared.
Unmoved, the other regarded the Judge keenly.
“Spiritualism,” he repeated, “and that a bunch of these mediums have got him so hypnotized he can’t call his soul his own, or his money, either. Is that true?”
Judge Gaylor’s outburst was overwhelming. That it was genuine Mr. Lee, observing him closely, was convinced.
“Of all the outrageous, ridiculous”—the judge halted, gasping for words—“and libelous statements!” he went on. “If you print that,” he thundered, “Mr. Hallowell will sue your paper for half a million dollars. Can’t you see the damage you would do? Can’t your people see that if the idea got about that he was unable to direct his own affairs, that he was in the hands of mediums, it would invalidate everything he does? After his death, every act of his at this time, every paper he had signed, would be suspected, and—and”—stammered the Judge as his imagination pictured what might follow—“they might even attack his will!” He advanced truculently. “Do you mean to publish this libel?”
Lee moved his shoulders in deprecation. “I’m afraid we must,” he said.
“You must!” demanded Gaylor. “After what I’ve told you? Do you think I’m lying to you?”
“No,” said the reporter; “I don’t think you are. Looks more like you didn’t know.”