m other sounds Orme gathered that the woman was arranging chairs. "Sit
here, you two," he heard her say. "You'll have to keep quiet when the
rest come. Do just what they do? Be sure, now."

The bell now began to ring at frequent intervals, each time announcing
the arrival of newcomers. Madame Alia's clients were quickly assembling;
Orme could hear them whispering among themselves.

A clinking noise he did not at first understand. Then he realized that it
was the sound of silver dropping into a hat. Someone was taking up the
collection. He knew, too, when they hung the curtain across his corner of
the room, shutting off the space in which the medium was to sit, and when
they lighted the gas and drew down the shades at the window. Then he
heard them lead her into the cabinet and tie her to the chair.

The silence that followed these preparations grew oppressive. The clients
were waiting for the right "current," and Madame Alia, Orme had no doubt,
was using the interval to free herself from her bonds.

In a little while someone started the hymn, "Over the River They Beckon
to Me," and the others took it up--women's voices, chiefly, struggling
through the melody in their trebles, with the mumbled undertones of one
or two men.

A draught of cooler air struck Orme's cheek; a hand found his shoulder; a
voice whispered. Under cover of the singing Madame Alia had opened the
panel. Her lips were close to his ear. In the creepy tension of the
waiting Orme had almost forgotten that Madame Alia's ghosts were a cheat,
and the touch of her hand made him start, but her first words brought him
to himself.

"Hush!" she whispered. "You'll get your chance in a minute. Put on a pair
of black felt slippers. Here"--she groped along the floor, and gave him
the slippers. They were large, and went easily over his shoes.

"Now the black robe, just behind you."

He took it from its peg, and slipped into it.

"Cover your head and face with the hood."

He did as directed, finding the eyeholes with his fingers.

"Hide your hands in the sleeves. Now, listen. I'm going to keep them busy
looking at the curtains. When you hear a gong ring three times, come
through the panel, and go between the curtain and the wall-hanging, on
the side toward the window. The gas is down to a pinpoint. Those folks
think they can see a lot more than they do. But they won't see you,
unless you show some white. Anyhow they'll be watching the cabinet. Keep
outside