“Well,” she said, at length, “I might as well face it at once.  If there’s anything in this instrument we’ll all know it pretty soon.  Turn on your receiver, Billy.”

“Oh,” cried Linda, tearfully, “don’t you do it, William!”

“Turn it on,” repeated Sacharissa.  “I’m not going to be a coward and break faith with myself, and you both know it!  If I’ve got to go through the silliness of love and marriage I might as well know who the bandarlog is to be....  Anyway, I don’t really believe in this thing....  I can’t believe in it....  Besides, I’ve a mind and a will of my own, and I fancy it will require more than amateur psychical experiments to change either.  Go on, Billy.”

“You mean it?” he asked, secretly gratified.

“Certainly,” with superb affectation of indifference.  And she rose and faced the instrument.

Destyn looked at his wife.  He was dying to try it.

“Will!” she exclaimed, “suppose we are not going to like Rissa’s possible f—­fiance!  Suppose father doesn’t like him!”

“You’ll all probably like him as well as I shall,” said her sister defiantly.  “Willy, stop making frightened eyes at your wife and start your infernal machine!”

There was a vicious click, a glitter of shifting clockwork, a snap, and it was done.

“Have you now, theoretically, got my psychical current bottled up?” she asked disdainfully.  But her lip trembled a little.

He nodded, looking very seriously at her.

“And now you are going to switch me on to this unknown gentleman’s psychical current?”

“Don’t let him!” begged Linda.  “Billy, dear, how can you when nobody has the faintest idea who the creature may turn out to be!”

“Go ahead!” interrupted her sister, masking misgiving under a careless smile.

Click!  Up shot the glittering, quivering tentacle of Rosium, vibrating for a few moments like a thread of silver.  Suddenly it was tipped with a blue flash of incandescence.

“Oh, dear!  Oh, dear!  There he is!” cried Linda, excitedly.  “Rissy!  Rissy, little sister, what have you done?”

“Nothing,” she said, catching her breath.  “I don’t believe that flash means anything.  I don’t feel a bit different—­not the least bit.  I feel perfectly well and perfectly calm.  I don’t love anybody and I’m not going to love anybody—­until I want to, and that will probably never happen.”

However, she permitted her sister to take her in her arms and pet her.  It was rather curious how exceedingly young and inexperienced she felt.  She found it agreeable to be fussed over and comforted and cradled, and for a few moments she suffered Linda’s solicitude and misgivings in silence.  After a while, however, she became ashamed.

“Nothing is going to happen, Linda,” she said, looking dreamily up at the ceiling; “don’t worry, dear; I shall escape the bandarlog.”

“If something doesn’t happen,” observed Destyn, pocketing his instrument, “the Green Mouse, Limited, will go into liquidation with no liabilities and no assets, and there’ll be no billions for you or for me or for anybody.”