"The results are marvelous," chanted Vance, "marvelous! The
medium is showing wonderful power. If any one desires to ask a
question, he should do so now. The conditions will never be
better." He paused expectantly. "Mr. Hallowell," he prompted,
"is it your wish to communicate with any one in the spirit
world?"
There was a long pause, and then the voice of Mr. Hallowell,
harsh and shaken, answered, "Yes."
"With whom?" demanded Vance.
There was again another longer pause, and then, above the
confusion of soft whisperings, the voice of the old man rose in
sharp staccato; "My sister, Catherine Coates." His tone
hardened, became obdurate, final. "But, I must see her, and hear
her speak!"
Not for an instant did Vance hesitate. In tense, sepulchral
tones, he demanded of the darkness, "Is the spirit of Catherine
Coates present?"
The whisperings and murmurs ceased. The silence of the room was
broken sharply by three quick raps. "Yes," intoned Vance, "she
is present."
The voice of Hallowell protested fiercely. "I won't have that! I
want to see her!"
In the tone of an incantation, Vance spoke again. "Will the
spirit show herself to her brother?" The raps came quickly,
firmly.
"She answers she will appear before you."
There was a moment that seemed to stretch interminably, and
then, the eyes of all, straining in the darkness, saw against
the black velvet curtain a splash of white.
Above the sobbing of the organ, the voice of Mr.
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