d you came
to-night, Shelby, but, after this, I admit I prefer to come alone, or
with only my wife. The messages from Peter to his father are naturally
more of a loving and domestic nature, and I revel in them."

"I don't wonder at that, Mr. Crane. And I congratulate you on having
found such a capable and skillful medium."

Madame Parlato gave Shelby a quick glance, almost as if doubting his
sincerity. But his frank, honest face reassured her, and she said:

"And, I'm proud to say, I'm not only a medium, but I am possessed of the
power that is called impersonation or transfiguration. This is
comparatively rare, and it enables me to perform what really seem like
miracles. I am taken possession of by the departed subject, and I speak
and act so perfectly with that other personality that sometimes I even
resemble the person who is talking through me."

"It is indeed wonderful," Shelby said, and Benjamin Crane looked happily
contemplative of the _seances_ in the future when Madame would utilize
this miraculous gift of hers in his behalf.

* * * * *

Shelby did go alone to see the medium, and it happened also that, about
a week later, going again, he chanced to meet Mr. Crane there. The
younger man offered to leave, but Crane said, "No, come along. Madame is
going to try to-night to materialize Peter's face, and I want you here
to see it."

And so the strange _seance_ began.

Materialization, of course, called for a darkened room, and Shelby's
naturally suspicious mind was alert for possible fraud.

But he could discover no chance for such. There was no cabinet, no
tambourine, bell or trumpet, and no curtain was drawn or screen set up.

After they had sat in darkness and silence for a time, a face seemed to
form in mid-air. It was a misty, vague countenance, and was wrapped
about with a soft, floating drapery or veil, which exposed only the
features.

"Peter!" exclaimed Benjamin Crane in a half-gasping voice. "My boy
himself!"

"Peter Boots!" cried Shelby, and slowly the face vanished.

Not another word was spoken, and in a moment the lights were turned on.
This was done by Madame Parlato, at whose elbow the light switch was.

"Did you see anything?" she asked, in an exhausted, harassed way, yet
with an air of eagerness.

"Yes," cried out Crane. "I saw Peter, my own son!"

"I couldn't be sure," she went on, speaking wearily. "It always exhausts
me utterly to induce a materia