“Well,” said O’Keefe, “suppose you tell me what you think⁠—and then I’ll proceed to point out your scientific errors.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Larry,” I replied, somewhat severely, “you may not know that I have a scientific reputation which, putting aside all modesty, I may say is an enviable one. You used a word last night to which I must interpose serious objection. You more than hinted that I hid⁠—superstitions. Let me inform you, Larry O’Keefe, that I am solely a seeker, observer, analyst, and synthesist of facts. I am not”⁠—and I tried to make my tone as pointed as my words⁠—“I am not a believer in phantoms or spooks, leprechauns, banshees, or ghostly harpers.”

O’Keefe leaned back and shouted with laughter.

“Forgive me, Goodwin,” he gasped. “But if you could have seen yourself solemnly disclaiming the banshee”⁠—another twinkle showed in his eyes⁠—“and then with all this sunshine and this wide-open world”⁠—he shrugged his shoulders⁠—“it’s hard to visualize anything such as you and Huldricksson have described.”