“I am quite ready,” I whispered, turning to listen for approaching footsteps.

He nodded, still keeping his eyes on mine.  Our whispers sounded hollow as they echoed overhead among the rafters.

“I’m glad you are here,” he said.  “Not all would have the courage.  Keep your thoughts controlled, and imagine the protective shell round you—­round your inner being.”

“I’m all right,” I repeated, cursing my chattering teeth.

He took my hand and shook it, and the contact seemed to shake into me something of his supreme confidence.  The eyes and hands of a strong man can touch the soul.  I think he guessed my thought, for a passing smile flashed about the corners of his mouth.

“You will feel more comfortable,” he said, in a low tone, “when the chain is complete.  The Colonel we can count on, of course.  Remember, though,” he added warningly, “he may perhaps become controlled—­possessed—­when the thing comes, because he won’t know how to resist.  And to explain the business to such a man—!” He shrugged his shoulders expressively.  “But it will only be temporary, and I will see that no harm comes to him.”

He glanced round at the arrangements with approval.

“Red light,” he said, indicating the shaded lamps, “has the lowest rate of vibration.  Materialisations are dissipated by strong light—­won’t form, or hold together—­in rapid vibrations.”

I was not sure that I approved altogether of this dim light, for in complete darkness there is something protective—­the knowledge that one cannot be seen, probably—­which a half-light destroys, but I remembered the warning to keep my thoughts steady, and forbore to give them expression.

There was a step outside, and the figure of Colonel Wragge stood in the doorway.  Though entering on tiptoe, he made considerable noise and clatter, for his free movements were impeded by the burden he carried, and we saw a large yellowish bowl held out at arms’ length from his body, the mouth covered with a white cloth.  His face, I noted, was rigidly composed.  He, too, was master of himself.  And, as I thought of this old soldier moving through the long series of alarms, worn with watching and wearied with assault, unenlightened yet undismayed, even down to the dreadful shock of his sister’s terror, and still showing the dogged pluck that persists in the face of defeat, I understood what Dr. Silence meant when he described him as a man “to be counted on.”

I think there was nothing beyond this rigidity of his stern features, and a certain greyness of the complexion, to betray the turmoil of the emotions that were doubtless going on within; and the quality of these two men, each in his own way, so keyed me up that, by the time the door was shut and we had exchanged silent greetings, all the latent courage I possessed was well to the fore, and I felt as sure of myself as I knew I ever could feel.

Colonel Wragge set the bowl carefully in the centre of the table.