sult was the profile of a head.

PETER. [_After a pause_.] ... You believe that?

DR. MACPHERSON. The experiment has been repeated again and again. Nobody
acquainted with the subject denies it now.

PETER. Spook pictures taken by professional mediums! [_Turning away from
the table as though he had heard enough._

DR. MACPHERSON. De Rochas, who took the pictures of which I speak, is a
lawyer of standing; and the room was full of scientists who saw the
pictures taken.

PETER. Hypnotized--all of them. Humbug, Andrew!

DR. MACPHERSON. Under these conditions, it is quite impossible to
hypnotize a room full of people. Perhaps you think the camera was
hypnotized? In similar circumstances, says Lombroso, an unnatural current
of cold air went through the room and lowered the thermometer several
degrees. Can you hypnotize a thermometer?

CATHERINE. [_Impressed_.] That's wonderful, Doctor!

PETER. Yes, it's a very pretty fairy story; but it would sound better set
to shivery music. [_Sings_.] Tol! Dol! Dol! Dol! [_Rising to get his pipe
and tobacco_.] No, sir! I refuse to agree to your compact. You cannot pick
the lock of heaven's gate. We don't come back. God did enough for us when
he gave us life and strength to work and the work to do. He owes us no
explanations. I believe in the old-fashioned paradise with a locked gate.
[_He fills his pipe and lights it_.] No bogies for me.

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Rising_.] Peter, I console myself with the thought that
men have scoffed at the laws of gravitation, at vaccination, magnetism,
daguerreotypes, steamboats, cars, telephones, wireless telegraphy and
lighting by gas. [_Showing feeling_.] I'm very much disappointed that you
refuse my request.

PETER. [_Laying down his pipe on the table_.] Since you take it so
seriously--here--[_Offers his hand_.] I'll agree. I know you're an old
fool--and I'm another. Now then--[_Shakes hands._] it's settled.
Whichever one shall go first--[_He bursts into laughter--then controlling
himself_.] If I do come back, I'll apologize, Andrew.

DR. MACPHERSON. Do you mean it?

PETER. I'll apologize. Wait [_Taking the keys from the sideboard_.], let
us seal the compact in a glass of my famous plum brandy.

DR. MACPHERSON. Good!

PETER. [_As he passes off_.] We'll drink to spooks.

CATHERINE. You really do believe, Doctor, that the dead can come back,
don't you?

DR. MACPHERSON. Of course I do, and why not?

CATHERINE. Do you believe that you could