“There are other and pleasanter methods,” Dr. Silence went on to explain, “but they require time and preparation, and things have gone much too far, in my opinion, to admit of delay.  And the process need cause you no distress:  we sit round the bowl and await results.  Nothing more.  The emanations of blood—­which, as Levi says, is the first incarnation of the universal fluid—­furnish the materials out of which the creatures of discarnate life, spirits if you prefer, can fashion themselves a temporary appearance.  The process is old, and lies at the root of all blood sacrifice.  It was known to the priests of Baal, and it is known to the modern ecstasy dancers who cut themselves to produce objective phantoms who dance with them.  And the least gifted clairvoyant could tell you that the forms to be seen in the vicinity of slaughter-houses, or hovering above the deserted battlefields, are—­well, simply beyond all description.  I do not mean,” he added, noticing the uneasy fidgeting of his host, “that anything in our laundry-experiment need appear to terrify us, for this case seems a comparatively simple one, and it is only the vindictive character of the intelligence directing this fire-elemental that causes anxiety and makes for personal danger.”

“It is curious,” said the Colonel, with a sudden rush of words, drawing a deep breath, and as though speaking of things distasteful to him, “that during my years among the Hill Tribes of Northern India I came across—­personally came across—­instances of the sacrifices of blood to certain deities being stopped suddenly, and all manner of disasters happening until they were resumed.  Fires broke out in the huts, and even on the clothes, of the natives—­and—­and I admit I have read, in the course of my studies,”—­he made a gesture toward his books and heavily laden table,—­“of the Yezidis of Syria evoking phantoms by means of cutting their bodies with knives during their whirling dances—­enormous globes of fire which turned into monstrous and terrible forms—­and I remember an account somewhere, too, how the emaciated forms and pallid countenances of the spectres, that appeared to the Emperor Julian, claimed to be the true Immortals, and told him to renew the sacrifices of blood ’for the fumes of which, since the establishment of Christianity, they had been pining’—­that these were in reality the phantoms evoked by the rites of blood.”

Both Dr. Silence and myself listened in amazement, for this sudden speech was so unexpected, and betrayed so much more knowledge than we had either of us suspected in the old soldier.

“Then perhaps you have read, too,” said the doctor, “how the Cosmic Deities of savage races, elemental in their nature, have been kept alive through many ages by these blood rites?”

“No,” he answered; “that is new to me.”

“In any case,” Dr. Silence added, “I am glad you are not wholly unfamiliar with the subject, for you will now bring more sympathy, and therefore more help, to our experiment.  For, of course, in this case, we only want the blood to tempt the creature from its lair and enclose it in a form—­”