r it was taken. But in
other respects, I don't doubt it was a splendid likeness."

"Wait, before you try to be funny. Wait till I tell you about it. This
'envelope' or Shadow Self stood a few feet away from the sleeper. It was
invisible, of course, to the eye. It was only located by striking the
air and watching for the corresponding portion of the sleeper's body to
recoil. By pricking a certain part of the Shadow Self with a pin, the
cheek of the patient could be made to bleed. It was at that spot that
the camera was focussed for fifteen minutes! The result was----"

"A spoiled film."

"No, the profile of a head!" contradicted Dr. McPherson.

Grimm stared at him wonderingly.

"And you actually _believe_ such idiocy?" he demanded.

"It isn't a mere question of belief," declared McPherson, "but of
absolute _knowledge_. De Roche, who took the picture, is not a fraud,
but a lawyer of high standing. A room full of famous scientists saw the
picture taken."

"If they were honest, they were hypnotised."

"Perhaps you think the camera was hypnotised, too," retorted the doctor.
"Lombroso says that once under similar circumstances an unnatural
current of cold air went through the room and lowered the thermometer
several degrees. These are _facts_. Can you hypnotise a thermometer?"

"Oh, isn't that wonderful?" breathed Kathrien.

Grimm patted her shoulder gently, smiling as one might smile who sees a
dearly loved child taken in by a wonder-story. Then he turned to
McPherson, the banter in face and voice changed to mild reproof.

"No, Andrew," said he, reaching for his long meerschaum pipe and holding
its coffee-brown bowl lovingly between his thick fingers, as he
proceeded to fill it from a pouch on the mantel, "No, Andrew. I refuse
your compact. I'll have no part or parcel in it. Because it's an
impossible thing you ask of me. We don't come back. One cannot pick the
lock of Heaven's gate. It is no part of our terms with the Almighty. God
did enough for _us_ when He gave us life and gave us the strength to
work, and then gave us work to do. He owes us no explanation. I'll take
my chances on the old-fashioned Paradise--with a locked gate. No bogies
for me."

With another reassuring smile at Kathrien as she went out with the tray
of breakfast things, he lighted his pipe and repeated musingly:

"No bogies for me, I say. Who are _you_ that you should take the Kingdom
of Heaven by violence? Why," he broke out, "what ails