Then he turned, and gazed earnestly at the rug where he had last seen that master lying outstretched and breathless; and awakening to a realization of what had happened, fell into his most violent self and proceeded to go through the series of actions which they were now bound to consider a reproduction of what he had previously seen take place there.

Then he went softly out, and crept away upstairs.
Mr.Gryce and Miss Butterworth stepped at once into the light, and surveyed each other with a look of marked discouragement.

Then the latter, with a sudden gleam of enthusiasm, cried quickly: "Turn on another color, and let us see what will happen.

I have an idea it will fetch the old man down again." Mr.Gryce's brows went up.
"Do you think he can see through the floor ?" But he touched a button, and a rich blue took the place of the violet.
Nothing happened.
Miss Butterworth looked disturbed.
"I have confidence in your theories," began Mr.Gryce, "but when they imply the possibility of this man seeing through blank walls and obeying signals which can have no signification to any one on the floor above----" "Hark!" she cried, holding up one finger with a triumphant air.

The old man's steps could be heard descending.
This time he approached with considerable feebleness, passed slowly into the study, advanced to the table, and reached out his hands as if to lift something which he expected to find there.