f, when seriously
considered, as the cruel accident to Gertrude. It merely _happened_ that
the coroner's sister was a professional medium, and that he and his
whole family were ardent believers in spiritualism, active missionaries
in that cause. He had started life as an East Side street-urchin, had
the coroner, and had scrambled up somehow from bondage to influence,
fighting his way single-fisted through a hard school that does not often
foster illusions; but I have never met a more eagerly credulous mind. He
accepted the automatic writing as evidence without a moment's cavil,
assuring us at once that it undoubtedly came as a direct message from
the dead.

Doctor Askew's preliminary explanations he simply brushed aside. If Miss
Blake in her present trance state, which he soon satisfied himself was
genuine, had produced this message, then her hand had been controlled by
a disembodied spirit--probably Mrs. Hunt's. There was no arguing with
the man, and on my part, heaven knows, no desire to oppose him! I
listened gratefully for one hour to his wonder tales of spirit
revelations, and blessed him when he reluctantly left us--with the
assurance that Gertrude's death would be at once reported as due to an
unavoidable accident. It was so announced in the noon editions of the
evening papers. Sergeant Conlon and his aids departed by the service
elevator, and were soon replaced by a shocked and grieved clergyman and
a competent undertaker. The funeral--to take place in New Haven--was
arranged for; telegrams were sent; one among them to Phil. Even poor
Miss Goucher was at last remembered and communicated with--only just in
time, I fear, to save her reason. But of her more in its place. And,
meanwhile, throughout all this necessary confusion, Susan slept on. Noon
was past, and she still slept.... And Doctor Askew and I watched beside
her, and talked together.

At precisely seven minutes to three--I was bending over her at the
moment, studying her face for any sign of stirring consciousness--she
quietly opened her eyes.

"Ambo," were her first words, "I believe in God now; a God, anyway. I
believe in _Setebos_----"

V

In my unpracticed, disorderly way--in the hurry of my desire to get
back to Susan--I have again overstepped myself and must, after all,
pause to make certain necessary matters plain. There is nothing else for
it. I have, on reflection, dropped too many threads--the thread of my
own vision, the thread of thos