I mean that the
intelligent force behind these manifestations has realised that some
one is busied about its destruction. And it is now on the defensive:
more, it is aggressive.”

“But ‘it’--what is ‘it’?” began the soldier, fuming. “What, in the name
of all that’s dreadful, _is_ a fire-elemental?”

“I cannot give you at this moment,” replied Dr. Silence, turning to
him, but undisturbed by the interruption, “a lecture on the nature and
history of magic, but can only say that an Elemental is the active
force behind the elements,--whether earth, air, water, _or fire_,--it
is impersonal in its essential nature, but can be focused, personified,
ensouled, so to say, by those who know how--by magicians, if you
will--for certain purposes of their own, much in the same way that
steam and electricity can be harnessed by the practical man of this
century. “Alone, these blind elemental energies can accomplish little, but
governed and directed by the trained will of a powerful manipulator
they may become potent activities for good or evil. They are the basis
of all magic, and it is the motive behind them that constitutes the
magic ‘black’ or ‘white’; they can be the vehicles of curses or of
blessings, for a curse is nothing more than the thought of a violent
will perpetuated. And in such cases--cases like this--the conscious,
directing will of the mind that is using the elemental stands always
behind the phenomena----”

“You think that my brother----!” broke in the Colonel, aghast. “Has nothing whatever to do with it--directly. The fire-elemental that
has here been tormenting you and your household was sent upon its
mission long before you, or your family, or your ancestors, or even the
nation you belong to--unless I am much mistaken--was even in existence. We will come to that a little later; after the experiment I propose to
make we shall be more positive. At present I can only say we have to
deal now, not only with the phenomenon of Attacking Fire merely, but
with the vindictive and enraged intelligence that is directing it from
behind the scenes--vindictive and enraged,”--he repeated the words. “That explains----” began Colonel Wragge, seeking furiously for words
he could not find quickly enough. “Much,” said John Silence, with a gesture to restrain him. He stopped a moment in the middle of his walk, and a deep silence
came down over the little room. Through the windows the sunlight
seemed less bright, the long line of dark hills less friendly, making
me think of a vast wave towering to heaven and about to break and
overwhelm us. Something formidable had crept into the world about us. For, undoubtedly, there was a disquieting thought, holding terror as
well as awe, in the picture his words conjured up: the conception of a
human will reaching its deathless hand, spiteful and destructive, down
through the ages, to strike the living and afflict the innocent. “But what _is_ its object?” burst out the soldier, unable to restrain
himself longer in the silence. “Why does it come from that plantation? And why should it attack us, or any one in particular?” Questions
began to pour from him in a stream. “All in good time,” the doctor answered quietly, having let him run
on for several minutes. “But I must first discover positively what,
or who, it is that directs this particular fire-elemental. And, to
do that, we must first”--he spoke with slow deliberation--“seek to
capture--to confine by visibility--to limit its sphere in a concrete
form.”

“Good heavens almighty!” exclaimed the soldier, mixing his words in his
unfeigned surprise. “Quite so,” pursued the other calmly; “for in so doing I think we
can release it from the purpose that binds it, restore it to its
normal condition of latent fire, and also”--he lowered his voice
perceptibly--“also discover the face and form of the Being that ensouls
it.”

“The man behind the gun!” cried the Colonel, beginning to understand
something, and leaning forward so as not to miss a single syllable. “I mean that in the last resort, before it returns to the womb of
potential fire, it will probably assume the face and figure of its
Director, of the man of magical knowledge who originally bound it with
his incantations and sent it forth upon its mission of centuries.”

The soldier sat down and gasped openly in his face, breathing hard; but
it was a very subdued voice that framed the question. “And how do you propose to make it visible? How capture and confine it? What d’ye mean, Dr. John Silence?”

“By furnishing it with the materials for a form. By the process of
materialisation simply. Once limited by dimensions, it will become
slow, heavy, visible. We can then dissipate it. Invisible fire, you
see, is dangerous and incalculable; locked up in a form we can perhaps
manage it. We must betray it--to its death.”

“And this material?” we asked in the same breath, although I think I
had already guessed. “Not pleasant, but effective,” came the quiet reply; “the exhalations
of freshly-spilled blood.”

“Not human blood!” cried Colonel Wragge, starting up from his chair
with a voice like an explosion. I thought his eyes would start from
their sockets. The face of Dr. Silence relaxed in spite of himself, and his
spontaneous little laugh brought a welcome though momentary relief. “The days of human sacrifice, I hope, will never come again,” he
explained. “Animal blood will answer the purpose, and we can make the
experiment as pleasant as possible. Only, the blood must be freshly
spilled and strong with the vital emanations that attract this peculiar
class of elemental creature. Perhaps--perhaps if some pig on the estate
is ready for the market----”

He turned to hide a smile; but the passing touch of comedy found
no echo in the mind of our host, who did not understand how to
change quickly from one emotion to another. Clearly he was debating
many things laboriously in his honest brain. But, in the end, the
earnestness and scientific disinterestedness of the doctor, whose
influence over him was already very great, won the day, and he
presently looked up more calmly, and observed shortly that he thought
perhaps the matter could be arranged. “There are other and pleasanter methods,” Dr. Silence went on to
explain, “but they require time and preparation, and things have gone
much too far, in my opinion, to admit of delay. And the process need
cause you no distress: we sit round the bowl and await results. Nothing
more. The emanations of blood--which, as Levi says, is the first
incarnation of the universal fluid--furnish the materials out of which
the creatures of discarnate life, spirits if you prefer, can fashion
themselves a temporary appearance. The process is old, and lies at
the root of all blood sacrifice. It was known to the priests of Baal,
and it is known to the modern ecstasy dancers who cut themselves to
produce objective phantoms who dance with them.