"
"I refuse!" the Professor replied harshly.
"And I insist," Quest muttered.
The Professor drew a little breath. He sat back in his chair. His face
became still, his lips were drawn closely together. Lenora wheeled up the
machine and with deft fingers adjusted the fittings on one side. Quest
himself connected it up on the other. The Professor sat there like a
figure of stone. The silence in the room was so intense that the ticking
of the small clock upon the mantelpiece was clearly audible. The silent
battle of wills seemed like a live and visible struggle. The very
atmosphere seemed charged with the thrill and wonder of it. Never before
had Quest met with resistance so complete and immovable. For the first
time the thought of failure oppressed him. Even that slight slackening of
his rigid concentration brought relief to the Professor. Without any
knowledge as to the source of their conviction, the two girls who watched
felt that the Professor was becoming dominant. And then there came a
sudden queer change. The intangible triumph of the Professor's stony poise
seemed to fade away. His eyes had sought the corner of the room, his lips
quivered. The horror was there again, the horror they had seen before. He
crouched a little back. His hands were uplifted as though to keep off some
evil thing.
"Craig!" Lenora whispered. "He thinks he sees Craig again!"
Quest held up his hand. He realised that this was his moment. He leaned a
little farther forward.
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