for her to decide. I shall add this revelation to my book, by way of an
appendix. It's too late to incorporate it in the body of the work."

Benjamin Crane's book had been a work of absorbing interest to him if
not to his friends. He was entirely obsessed by the whole matter of
Spiritism, and his book, following the style of a celebrated work of a
similar nature in England, was even now in the publisher's hands.

The book was a memorial to Peter and an account of the experiences of
his parents during the sessions with the medium. Crane possessed a
pleasant, convincing style, and the book was well written and of a real
interest quite apart from the question of the reader's belief in its
matter.

* * * * *

When the volume was published, and that was early in April, it became an
immediate success. Not the least of the reasons for this was the
astounding account of the materialization of the tobacco pouch, detailed
exactly as Benjamin Crane had told the story the night of the
occurrence.

The book went like wildfire. Edition after edition was sold, and
Benjamin Crane found himself famous. The benign old gentleman took his
notoriety calmly, and refused to see the people who thronged to his door
unless they were personal acquaintances. He had to engage secretaries
and other assistants, but his methodical and efficient mind easily coped
with all such matters. Mrs. Crane, too, was serenely indifferent to the
publicity of it all, and pursued her simple ways of life undisturbed.

But Julie was angry at it all. Her life, she said, was spoiled by being
known as the daughter of a demented monomaniac.

Her father smiled at her and told her she would change her views some
day, and her mother scolded her now and then, but mostly ignored the
subject when talking with her.

Julie found sympathy in the views of McClellan Thorpe.

Neither of these two would believe in the materialization of the tobacco
pouch, yet neither of them could arrive at any satisfactory explanation
of the incident.

"Of course, it's Peter's pouch," Julie would say; "but it came to that
woman by some natural means. Maybe, somebody found it up there in
Labrador and brought it home----"

"No," Thorpe would object, "in that case it would be weather-worn and
defaced, and, too, nobody would have any reason to find it, bring it
home, and give it to Madame Parlato! No, Carly, that won't do."

"Maybe he had two--duplicates," C