dous that the human consciousness, except in tare instances, rejects it.
"The conclusion is plain. The unfettered Will, by and of itself, can work miracles, move mountains, create and destroy!
"Listen carefully, for Coué and Pavlov and your own J. B. Watson were closer to the truth than they knew....
"I pick up this coin, and I place it upon my wrist, so. Now I suggest to myself that it is very hot. But my conscious knows that it is not hot, and so I merely appear, to myself and to you all, a trifle foolish.
"Nevertheless, any hypnotist can suggest to a pre-hypnotized subject that the coin is indeed hot, and the subject's flesh will blister if touched with this same cold coin!...
"Now I will call my servant——"
Placing his two enormous, shapeless hands on the table, Dmitri heaved himself to his feet, and a tremendous bellow issued from his barrel-like chest. That summons, though the words were lost in a gulf of sound, was unmistakable, and presently the door opened and the little man, prim and neat and wholly a colorless personality, entered.
"Yes, Master."
Dmitri stood beside the table, his right hand resting heavily on the polished oak.
"Sit down, little Stepan."
The small man, the ghost of a pleased smile on his peasant face, sat down primly in the oaken chair and looked about the room with child-like pleasure. Obviously he was enjoying to the uttermost his small moment.
"You would prefer the sleep, little one? It is not necessary; we have been through this experiment many times together, you and I."
"I would prefer the sleep, Master," the little man said, with a slight shudder. "Despite myself, my eyes flinch from the flame——"
"Very well." Dmitri's voice was casual and low. "Relax, little one, and sleep. Sleep soundly——"
He turned from his servant and picked up the fifty-cent piece. Turning it over and over in the fingers of his left hand he began to speak, slowly.
"I have told this subject's subconscious that its body is invulnerable to physical injury. Watch!"
The little man was sitting erect in the massive chair. His eyes were closed, his face immobile. Dmitri stooped, lifted an arm, let it fall.
"You are not yet sleeping soundly, Stepan. Relax and sleep—sleep——"
Slowly the muscles in the little man's face loosened, slowly his mouth drooped, half open. Small bubbles of mucus appeared at the corners of his lips.
Dmitri seemed satisfied. Quietly, soothingly, he spoke.
"Can you hear me?"
The man's lips moved. "I can hear you."
"Who am I?"
The answer came slowly, without inflection. "You are the Voice that Speaks from Beyond the Darkness."
Dmitri loomed above the chair. "You remember the truths that I have taught you?"
"Master, I remember."
"You believe?"
"Master, I believe. You have told me that you are infallible."
Dmitri straightened triumphantly and surveyed his silent audience. Suddenly, then, a roaring streamer of bluish flame lanced across the room. Dmitri had set the gasoline torch alight.
A woman was babbling hysterically. But above the steady moan of the flame Dmitri said loudly, "There is no cause for alarm. Now, observe closely. I am
