Kate Rice was not one to be outfaced. "If I have, I shall be most happy," she answered. "Who are you that demand so much of this poor girl?"
"I am the one chosen by her 'control' to convey their message to the world."
Kate recoiled a little. "Oh, you are? Well, I don't care if you are. You have no right to use her name in this way without her consent."
"Her consent! What she desires or what I desire is of small account. We are both in the grasp of the invisible forces, making for the happiness of the race. She can't refuse to go on. It is her duty. There are millions of other women to sing, to dance, to amuse men--there is only one Viola Lambert in the world. Nothing in the annals of the occult exceeds her wonderful mediumship. She must give herself to the world of science. She must help us to prevail over the terrors of the grave. Her mission is magnificent. Her fame will fill the earth."
Kate stoutly confronted him. "Perhaps the fame you give her will destroy her. It sounds to me like notoriety rather than fame. This poor child has a right to herself, and I will help her assert it."
Clarke's eloquent hand fell to his side. Something in Kate's calm, matter-of-fact speech reached his shrewder self. He perceived here no mean antagonist. "You need not take the trouble, madam. I am guarding her. They are guarding her."
It was plain that both Mrs. Lambert and her daughter were profoundly in obedience if not in terror of this wild young evangel, and Kate, to test her divination, said, "Suppose she refuses?"
"She dare not refuse. Her 'control' would cut her down where she stands. She has no choice where they are concerned. The hands are upon her this moment," he ended, triumphantly.
A shudder of despair went over the girl. "It's true; I feel them here." She touched her throat. "They are all against me--the living and the dead," and she fell into her chair with a moan of despair, her beauty, her shining garments adding to the pity of her fate. Kate's heart went out to her without reservation as she knelt beside her.
"I am for you, my dear, and so is my brother; we will help you, I give you my word. Be brave. You must see Morton and Dr. Weissmann. They will know what to do."
Viola turned upon her mother with a wail of supplication. "Take me home, mother, take me home!"
Mrs. Lambert herself was weeping now. "I dare not, dearie, not till they consent. Be patient--they have promised to release you after this test."