I reached out for the lever, and the exhibition of electricity recommenced. Immediately his tremors were redoubled.
‘My lord, I know not of what you talk.’
‘None of your lies for me.—Tell me why, at the sight of the thing on that sheet of paper, Paul Lessingham went green and yellow.’
‘Ask him, my lord.’
‘Probably, later on, that is what I shall do. In the meantime, I am asking you. Answer,—or look out for squalls.’
The electrical exhibition was going on. He was glaring at it as if he wished that it would stop. As if ashamed of his cowardice, plainly, on a sudden, he made a desperate effort to get the better of his fears,—and succeeded better than I had expected or desired. He drew himself up with what, in him, amounted to an air of dignity.
‘I am a child of Isis!’
It struck me that
