repulsive. As he
entered the drawing-room he found her sitting in a low chair beside a
small table on which stood a shaded lamp. Clarke was talking with her,
and Serviss could detect even at a distance the depressing change
which had come to her. Her girlish ecstasy was quite gone and in its
place lay pallid languor and a look of appeal.

Clarke moved away as his host approached, and Viola, glancing up wanly
and wistfully, said: "Isn't it stupid? Just when I was so happy. I
wanted this evening free, but they would not have it so. No sooner was
I seated here than they began to work on me. They say they want to
talk with you--my grandfather especially--and I, too, want you to do
so--only I didn't intend to ask it to-night. Please be patient with
me, won't you?"

"Do not distress yourself about that. I shall be very glad to sit. I
was afraid Kate might be requesting it. I particularly warned her
against mentioning the subject, but if your 'guides' wish it, and you
are willing, be sure Dr. Weissmann and I will be most pleased. But,
tell me, how did the change come? What began to happen?"

[Illustration: "'BUT, TELL ME, HOW DID THE CHANGE COME? WHAT
BEGAN TO HAPPEN?'"]

"The usual tapping--here on the table--then my hand wanted to write. I
ignored it--I fought it. I didn't intend to yield, but they set to
work undermining my will, and then I knew that I must consent or be
strangled. As soon as I gave up they took their fingers from my
throat, but they are here--my grandfather is just back of me--I can
feel his heavy hand on my head. I'm sorry, Professor Serviss. I was
having such a good time. I hope you won't despise me."

"You are entirely too modest," he answered, cheerily. "We are highly
favored. It's like having Paderewski volunteer to play for his
dinner."

His lightness of tone hurt her a little. "You don't believe in me in
the least, do you? You think I am an impostor?"

"Oh no. I believe in _you_."

"But you've got to believe in these manifestations if you believe in
me."

"No, no, that does not follow," he replied, quickly; then, perceiving
that this involved him, "All you do may possibly be explained without
resort to the spiritualistic hypothesis--" He was embarrassed by her
gaze.

"Why are you so contemptuous of spiritualists? It is very hard to
bear."

He felt the rebuke. "I am not contemptuous--"

"Yes, you are. Scientific people never speak of us without a laugh or
a sneer, and it hurts