"They are here," announced Mrs. Joyce, after some ten minutes of silence.
"I hear them." A faint whisper soon distinguished itself, and Mrs. Joyce reported that Mr. Blodgett was speaking. "He says he realizes the importance of this test, and that he has summoned all the most powerful of the spirits within reach, and that they will do all they can. He says the wire cage is a new condition, but they will meet it. Be patient; the strain on Lucy is very great, but it cannot be avoided."
In the silence which followed this conversation Leo shuddered and clutched Victor's hand as if for protection. "The other world is opening. Don't you feel it?" She whispered. "I can hear the rustle of wings."
He, growing very tense himself, answered: "I feel only my mother's anxiety. Are you comfortable, mother?" he asked.
She did not reply, and Mrs. Joyce said, "She is asleep." And all became silent again.
"Hello!" exclaimed Stinchfield. "Who touched me?"
"No one in the circle," answered Mrs. Joyce, highly elated.
"I certainly felt a hand on my shoulder--there it comes again! Shall I flash my camera?"
"_Not now!_" came a clear, full whisper, apparently from the cabinet. "_You would fail now. Wait._"
As there was no reply, Mrs. Joyce asked, "Is it you, Mr. Blodgett?"
"It is Isaac Watts. Now it is his science against yours, Mr. Stinchfield."
Bartol fell into the mode at once. "We are glad to be so honored. Now Watts, I want--and I must have--incontestable proof of the psychic's abnormal power--nothing else can save her from State prison. Do you realize that?"
"_What would you call incontestable proof?_"
"I should say a registered pressure on the key or the lighting of the lamp above the cabinet--"
A vivid red flash lit up the room. Stinchfield shouted, "The lamp--the lamp was lit!"
His excitement, to all but Bartol, was ludicrously high, and Mrs. Joyce openly chuckled. "What else do you want done, Mr. Science?"
"Writing independent of Mrs. Ollnee," replied Bartol.
After a long and painful silence the bell tinkled faintly, and as all listened breathlessly the zither began to play.
"Now who is doing that?" asked the engineer.
"_Turn on the green light!_" suggested the Voice.
Stinchfield lit the green lamp, and by its glow the psychic was seen in her cage reclining limply, her face ghostly white in the light. Bartol looked about the circle. Every hand was in view, and yet the zither continued to play its weird and wistful little tune. Leo and Mrs. Joyce took this as a matter of course, but the men sat in rigid amazement.