the
sanctuary. It has brought about in the extranatural a revolution similar
to that which was effected in the terrestrial order in France in 1789.
It has democratized evocation and opened a whole new vista. Only, it has
lacked initiates to lead it, and, proceeding at random without science,
it has agitated good and bad spirits together. In Spiritism you will
find a jumble of everything. It is the hash of mystery, if I may be
permitted the expression."

"The saddest thing about it," said Des Hermies, laughing, "is that at a
seance one never sees a thing! I know that experiments have been
successful, but those which I have witnessed--well, the experimenters
seemed to take a long shot and miss."

"That is not surprising," said the astrologer, spreading some firm
candied orange jelly on a piece of bread, "the first law to observe in
magism and Spiritism is to send away the unbelievers, because very often
their fluid is antagonistic to that of the clairvoyant or the medium."

"Then how can there be any assurance of the reality of the phenomena?"
thought Durtal.

Carhaix rose. "I shall be back in ten minutes." He put on his greatcoat,
and soon the sound of his steps was lost in the tower.

"True," murmured Durtal, consulting his watch. "It's a quarter to
eight."

There was a moment of silence in the room. As all refused to have any
more dessert, Mme. Carhaix took up the tablecloth and spread an oilcloth
in its place.

The astrologer played with his rings, turning them about; Durtal was
rolling a pellet of crumbled bread between his fingers; Des Hermies,
leaning over to one side, pulled from his patch pocket his embossed
Japanese pouch and made a cigarette.

Then when the bell-ringer's wife had bidden them good night and retired
to her room, Des Hermies got the kettle and the coffee pot.

"Want any help?" Durtal proposed.

"You can get the little glasses and uncork the liqueur bottles, if you
will."

As he opened the cupboard, Durtal swayed, dizzy from the strokes of the
bells which shook the walls and filled the room with clamour.

"If there are spirits in this room, they must be getting knocked to
pieces," he said, setting the liqueur glasses on the table.

"Bells drive phantoms and spectres away," Gevingey answered, doctorally,
filling his pipe.

"Here," said Des Hermies, "will you pour hot water slowly into the
filter? I've got to feed the stove. It's getting chilly here. My feet
are freezing."

Carha