er tiny rippling waves,
and between her shoulders came the almost stinging thrill she loved. She
wished that the room were quite dark now, in order that she might feel
more. There were tiny beads of perspiration on Monsieur Leroy's
forehead, and his hands were moist. The candle behind the arm-chair
flickered.

"Are You there?" asked Monsieur Leroy, in a voice unlike his own.

There was no answer. The table moved more uneasily.

"Rap once for 'yes,' twice for 'no,'" said Monsieur Leroy. "Is this the
first time you have come to us?"

One rap answered the question, sharp and clear, as if the butt of a
pencil had struck the table underneath it and near the middle.

"Are you the spirit of a man?"

Two raps very distinct.

"Then you are a woman. Tell us----"

Several raps came in quick succession, in pairs, as if to repeat the
negative energetically. Monsieur Leroy seemed to hesitate what question
to ask.

"Perhaps it is a child," suggested the Princess, in a tremulous tone.

A sharp rap. Yes, it was a child. Was it a little girl? Yes. Had it been
dead long? Yes. More than ten years? Yes. More than twenty? Yes. Fifty?
No. Forty? Yes.

Monsieur Leroy began to count, pausing after each number.

"Forty-one--forty-two--forty-three--forty-four----"

The sharp rap again. The Princess drew a quick breath.

"How old was it when it died?" she managed to ask.

Monsieur Leroy began to count again, beginning with one. At the word
seven, the rap came. The Princess started violently, almost upsetting
the table against her companion.

"Adelaide!" She cried in a broken voice.

One rap.

"Oh, my darling, my darling!"

The old woman bent down over the table, and her outspread hands tried
frantically to take up the flat surface, and she kissed the polished
wood passionately, again and again, not knowing what she did, nor
hearing her own incoherent words of mixed joy and agony.

"My child! My little thing--my sweet--speak to me----"

Her whole being was convulsed. Little storms of rappings seemed to
answer her. The perspiration trickled down Monsieur Leroy's temples. He
seemed to be making an effort altogether beyond his natural strength.

"Speak to me--call me by the little name!" sobbed the Princess, and her
tears wet her hands and the table.

Monsieur Leroy began to repeat the alphabet. From time to time a rap
stopped him at a letter, and then he began over again. In this way the
rapping spelt out the word "Mamet