They might have been discussing the building of a house, so
naturally followed answer upon question. But the whole body of meaning
in the old Egyptian symbolism rushed over him with a force that shook
his heart. Memory came so marvellously with it. "If the Power floods down into our minds with sufficient strength for
actual form, to note the outline of such form, and from your drawing
model it later in permanent substance. Then we should have means of
evoking it at will, for we should have its natural Body--the form it
built itself, its signature, image, pattern. A starting-point, you see,
for more--leading, she hopes, to a complete reconstruction." "It might take actual shape--assume a bodily form visible to the eye?" repeated Henriot, amazed as before that doubt and laughter did not break
through his mind. "We are on the earth," was the reply, spoken unnecessarily low since no
living thing was within earshot, "we are in physical conditions, are we
not? Even a human soul we do not recognise unless we see it in a
body--parents provide the outline, the signature, the sigil of the
returning soul. This," and he tapped himself upon the breast, "is the
physical signature of that type of life we call a soul. Unless there is
life of a certain strength behind it, no body forms. And, without a
body, we are helpless to control or manage it--deal with it in any way. We could not know it, though being possibly _aware_ of it." "To be aware, you mean, is not sufficient?" For he noticed the italics
Vance made use of. "Too vague, of no value for future use," was the reply. "But once obtain
the form, and we have the natural symbol of that particular Power. And a
symbol is more than image, it is a direct and concentrated expression of
the life it typifies--possibly terrific." "It may be a body, then, this symbol you speak of." "Accurate vehicle of manifestation; but 'body' seems the simplest word." Vance answered very slowly and deliberately, as though weighing how much
he would tell. His language was admirably evasive. Few perhaps would
have detected the profound significance the curious words he next used
unquestionably concealed. Henriot's mind rejected them, but his heart
accepted. For the ancient soul in him was listening and aware. "Life, using matter to express itself in bodily shape, first traces a
geometrical pattern. From the lowest form in crystals, upwards to more
complicated patterns in the higher organisations--there is always first
this geometrical pattern as skeleton. For geometry lies at the root of
all possible phenomena; and is the mind's interpretation of a living
movement towards shape that shall express it." He brought his eyes
closer to the other, lowering his voice again. "Hence," he said softly,
"the signs in all the old magical systems--skeleton forms into which the
Powers evoked descended; outlines those Powers automatically built up
when using matter to express themselves. Such signs are material symbols
of their bodiless existence. They attract the life they represent and
interpret. Obtain the correct, true symbol, and the Power corresponding
to it can approach--once roused and made aware. It has, you see, a
ready-made mould into which it can come down." "Once roused and made aware?" repeated Henriot questioningly, while this
man went stammering the letters of a language that he himself had used
too long ago to recapture fully. "Because they have left the world. They sleep, unmanifested. Their forms
are no longer known to men. No forms exist on earth to-day that could
contain them. But they may be awakened," he added darkly. "They are
bound to answer to the summons, if such summons be accurately made." "Evocation?" whispered Henriot, more distressed than he cared to admit. Vance nodded. Leaning still closer, to his companion's face, he thrust
his lips forward, speaking eagerly, earnestly, yet somehow at the same
time, horribly: "And we want--my aunt would ask--your draughtsman's
skill, or at any rate your memory afterwards, to establish the outline
of anything that comes." He waited for the answer, still keeping his face uncomfortably close. Henriot drew back a little. But his mind was fully made up now. He had
known from the beginning that he would consent, for the desire in him
was stronger than all the caution in the world. The Past inexorably drew
him into the circle of these other lives, and the little human dread
Vance woke in him seemed just then insignificant by comparison. It was
merely of To-day. "You two," he said, trying to bring judgment into it, "engaged in
evocation, will be in a state of clairvoyant vision. Granted. But shall
I, as an outsider, observing with unexcited mind, see anything, know
anything, be aware of anything at all, let alone the drawing of it?" "Unless," the reply came instantly with decision, "the descent of Power
is strong enough to take actual material shape, the experiment is a
failure. Anybody can induce subjective vision. Such fantasies have no
value though. They are born of an overwrought imagination." And then he
added quickly, as though to clinch the matter before caution and
hesitation could take effect: "You must watch from the heights above. We
shall be in the valley--the Wadi Hof is the place. You must not be too
close--"

"Why not too close?" asked Henriot, springing forward like a flash
before he could prevent the sudden impulse. With a quickness equal to his own, Vance answered. There was no faintest
sign that he was surprised. His self-control was perfect. Only the glare
passed darkly through his eyes and went back again into the sombre soul
that bore it. "For your own safety," he answered low. "The Power, the type of life,
she would waken is stupendous. And if roused enough to be attracted by
the patterned symbol into which she would decoy it down, it will take
actual, physical expression. But how? Where is the Body of Worshippers
through whom it can manifest? There is none. It will, therefore, press
inanimate matter into the service. The terrific impulse to form itself a
means of expression will force all loose matter at hand towards
it--sand, stones, all it can compel to yield--everything must rush into
the sphere of action in which it operates. Alone, we at the centre, and
you, upon the outer fringe, will be safe. Only--you must not come too
close." But Henriot was no longer listening. His soul had turned to ice. For
here, in this unguarded moment, the cloven hoof had plainly shown
itself. In that suggestion of a particular kind of danger Vance had
lifted a corner of the curtain behind which crouched his horrible
intention. Vance desired a witness of the extraordinary experiment, but
he desired this witness, not merely for the purpose of sketching
possible shapes that might present themselves to excited vision. He
desired a witness for another reason too. Why had Vance put that idea
into his mind, this idea of so peculiar danger?