e gasp came from the circle as he went
out into the room. At first he thought that he had been seen. To his
eyes, fresh from complete darkness, the room seemed moderately light; but
the gas was little more than a tiny blue dot.

As he took a step forward he saw why the circle had gasped. Through the
curtains of the cabinet came the semblance of a tenuous wraith in long,
trailing robes of white. It was almost formless, its outlines seeming to
melt into the gloom.

Advancing a little way into the circle, it shrank back as though
timorous, then wavered. From the circle came a woman's voice--anxious,
eager, straining with heart-break--"Oh, my sister!"

The figure turned toward her, slowly extended its arms, and glided back
to the curtains, where it stood as though waiting.

The sobbing woman arose from her chair and hastened toward the wraith.

"Agnes!" she whispered imploringly. "Won't you speak to me, Agnes?"

The ghostly figure slowly shook its head.

"Are you happy, Agnes? Tell me. Oh, don't go until you have told me."

The figure nodded mutely, and with a final slow gesture, waved the woman
back to her seat.

Meantime Orme cast his eyes over the circle. Dimly he saw faces, some
stolid, some agitated; and there, at the farther end were the two
Japanese, intent as children on these wonders. Their sparkling eyes were
directed to the cabinet.

The apparition had disappeared between the curtains. But now there was a
fresh gasp of wonder, as the figure of a little child stepped out into
the room. It did not go far from the cabinet, and it alternately advanced
and retreated, turning this way and that, as though looking for someone.

"It wants its mother!" exclaimed one of the women in the circle. "Is your
mother here, little one?"

The child stared at the speaker, then withdrew to the curtains.

"They will begin to talk after a while," explained the woman--"when the
control gets stronger. I always feel so tender for these little lost
spirits that come back to hunt for their loved ones."

Orme moved swiftly around the circle. He passed so close to the Japanese
that he could have touched them. The felt slippers made his steps
noiseless; the thick rug absorbed the shock of his weight.

He passed through the hangings of the doorway to the next room. There he
had no gaslight; the window-shades, however, were not drawn so closely
but that a little daylight entered. He removed the robe and stuffed it
under the old s