The Chronic Argonauts

There is absolutely no deception, sir, said Nebogipfel with the slightest trace of mockery in his voice. I lay no claim to work in matters spiritual. It is a bona fide mechanical contrivance, a thing emphatically of this sordid world. Excuse me – just one minute. He rose from his knees, stepped upon the mahogany platform, took a curiously curved lever in his hand and pulled it over. Cook rubbed his eyes. There certainly was no deception. The doctor and the machine had vanished.