emphasis into the little sentence at the end. Laurie jumped, internally. Yes, that was the point, he assented internally.
“Now,” went on the other, again in that slow, reassuring voice, flicking off the ash of his cigarette, “is it possible for you to doubt that these things happen? May I ask you what books you have read?”
Laurie named three or four.
“And they have not convinced you?”
“Not altogether.”
“Yet you accept human evidence for a great many much more remarkable things than these—as a Catholic.”
“That is divine revelation,” said Laurie, sure of his ground.
“Pardon me,” said the other. “I do not in the least say it is not divine revelation—that is another question—but you receive the statement that it is so, on the word of man. Is that not true?”
Laurie was silent. He did not quite know what to say; and he almost feared the next words. But he was astonished that the other did not press home the point.
“Think over that, Mr. Baxter. That is all I ask. And now for the real thing. You sincerely wish to be convinced?”
“I am ready to be convinced.”
The medium paused an instant, looking intently at the fire. Then he tossed the stump of his cigarette away and lighted another. The two ladies sat motionless.
“You seem fond of a priori arguments, Mr. Baxter,” he began, with a kindly smile. “Let us have one or two, then.