"
But I was certain.
Fenton began prodding about the room. I do not believe any
apartment was ever so thoroughly ransacked. We even tore up the
carpet. When we were through he sat in the midst of the debris and
wiped his forehead.
"It's no use, Harry--no use. We might have known better. It can't
be done. Yet you say you saw a string of incandescence."
"A single string; the form of Watson; a blur--then nothing," I
answered.
He thought. He quoted the professor:
"'Out of the occult I shall bring you the proof and the substance.
It will be concrete--within the reach of your senses.' Isn't that
what the doctor said?"
"Then you believe Professor Holcomb?"
"Why not? Didn't we see it? I know a deal of material science; but
nothing like this. I always had faith in Dr. Holcomb. After all,
it's not impossible. First we must go over the house thoroughly."
We did. Most of all, we were interested in that bell. We did not
think, either of us, that so much noise could come out of nothing.
It was too material. The other we could credit to the occult; but
not the sound. It had drowned our consciousness; perhaps it had
saved us from the Rhamda. But we found nothing. We went over the
house systematically. It was much as it had been previously
described, only now a bit more furnished. The same dank, musty
smell and the same suggestive silence. We returned to the lower
floor and the library.
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