"And your experiment with the house?" he said at length.
"Of the simplest character, my dear Mr. Pender. Although I am myself an artificially trained psychic, and consequently aware of the presence of discarnate entities as a rule, I have so far felt nothing here at all. This makes me sure that the forces acting here are of an unusual description. What I propose to do is to make an experiment with a view of drawing out this evil, coaxing it from its lair, so to speak, in order that it may exhaust itself through me and become dissipated for ever. I have already been inoculated," he added; "I consider myself to be immune."
"Heavens above!" gasped the author, collapsing on to a chair.
"Hell beneath! might be a more appropriate exclamation," the doctor laughed. "But, seriously, Mr. Pender, that is what I propose to do—with your permission."
"Of course, of course," cried the other, "you have my permission and my best wishes for success. I can see no possible objection, but—"
"But what?"
"I pray to Heaven you will not undertake this experiment alone, will you?"
"Oh dear, no; not alone."
"You will take a companion with good nerves, and reliable in case of disaster, won't you?"
"I shall bring two companions," the doctor said.
"Ah, that's better. I feel easier. I am sure you must have among your acquaintances men who—"
"I shall not think of bringing men, Mr. Pender."
