Myra looked up at the whirring glasses, which gradually increased in speed and luminosity as Alden skillfully manipulated his mechanism. The girl grew rigid and sank back recumbently in the chair.
The blood seemed to leave her face, and the muscles to turn to lee, as the effect of the automatic control increased.
Slowly Alden stepped between the quiet figure and the whirring wheel. Then he repeated the pulling gestures which had resulted in the projection of the hand before.
Unseen by the physician, a wraith had "melted" from the physical envelope of the girl, and stood beside the unconscious body.
Even as the spirit form extended a warning hand to him, it seemed to be drawn, like so much smoke, through a ventilator fan, into the center of the spinning wheel.
Where it had gone, how it had gone, Alden could not tell.
For Mrs. Maynard had knocked anxiously at the closed door of the laboratory.
"What is the matter with Myra?" she cried excitedly. "Her face is as pale as snow! Oh, doctor, you must not do this. It is a wicked thing to play with life and death and the soul this way!"
Alden nervously stopped the machine.
"Miss Myra, wake up!" he cried, donning instantly.
But there was no answer.
He repeated the earlier passes of hypnotic control, but the girl remained as though lifeless.
The mother sank to her knees beside the rigid figure, caressing and chafing her wrists and hands.  "Myra, Myra, Wake up, child!" she wailed, the tears streaming down her face. Alden anxiously pinched her skin, and applied a half dozen other tests. 