o be helpless in the
hands of all the demons and suicides and miscreants of the other world
is intolerable. And if I am not dominated by dead people, I fear I am
acting in response to the minds of vicious living people, and I don't
like that. It's a dreadful feeling--can't you see it is?--this being
open to every wandering gust of passion. I wouldn't let any one of my
children be controlled for the world. Don't ask me to sit again, and
please don't let my friends know of my "gift."'

"Of course we promised, but the effect of that sitting I shall not soon
forget. By-the-way, Miss Wilcox 'phoned and proved the truth of her
message. Her mother really was ill and in need of her."

As I closed this story, Cameron said: "Garland, you tell that as if you
believed in it."

"I certainly do believe in my friend. It's no joke with her. She is
quite certain that she is controlled by those 'on the other side,' and
that to submit is to lose so much of her own individuality. You may call
it hysteria, somnambulism, hypnotism, anything you like, but that
certain people are moved subconsciously to impersonate the dead I am
quite ready to believe. However, 'impersonation' is the least convincing
(from my point of view) of all the phases of mediumship. I have paid
very little attention to it in the course of my investigation. It has no
value as evidence. You are still in the tattered fringes of 'spiritism,'
even when you have seen all that impersonation can show you."

"Well, what do you suggest as the proper method for the society?"

"As I told you at beginning, I have had a great deal of experience with
these elusive 'facts,' and it chances that a practised though
non-professional psychic with whom I have held many baffling sittings,
is in the city. I may be able to induce her to sit for us."

"Oh, do, do!" cried Mrs. Cameron and Miss Brush together.

"Who is she?" asked Miller.

"I'll tell you more about her--next time," I said, tantalizingly. "She
is very puzzling, I assure you. When and where shall we meet?"

"Here," said Cameron, promptly. "I'm getting interested. Bring on your
marvels."

"Yes," said Miller, and his mouth shut like a steel trap. "Bring on your
faker. It won't take us long to expose her little game."

"Bigger scientific bigots than you have been conquered," I retorted.
"All right. I'll see what I can do. We'll meet one week from to-day."

"Yes," said Cameron; "come for dinner."

As I was going out, Mrs.