We passed the house, and went on to Mrs. Dane’s.

She had given us no inkling of what we were to have that night, and my wife conjectured a conjurer!  She gave me rather a triumphant smile when we were received in the library and the doors into the drawing-room were seen to be tightly closed.

We were early, as my wife is a punctual person, and soon after our arrival Sperry came.  Mrs. Dane was in her chair as usual, with her companion in attendance, and when she heard Sperry’s voice outside she excused herself and was wheeled out to him, and together we heard them go into the drawing-room.  When the Robinsons arrived she and Sperry reappeared, and we waited for her customary announcement of the evening’s program.  When none came, even during the meal, I confess that my curiosity was almost painful.

I think, looking back, that it was Sperry who turned the talk to the supernatural, and that, to the accompaniment of considerable gibing by the men, he told a ghost story that set the women to looking back over their shoulders into the dark corners beyond the zone of candle-light.  All of us, I remember, except Sperry and Mrs. Dane, were skeptical as to the supernatural, and Herbert Robinson believed that while there were so-called sensitives who actually went into trance, the controls which took possession of them were buried personalities of their own, released during trance from the sub-conscious mind.

“If not,” he said truculently, “if they are really spirits, why can’t they tell us what is going on, not in some vague place where they are always happy, but here and now, in the next house?  I don’t ask for prophecy, but for some evidence of their knowledge.  Are the Germans getting ready to fight England?  Is Horace here the gay dog some of us suspect?”

As I am the Horace in question, I must explain that Herbert was merely being facetious.  My life is a most orderly and decorous one.  But my wife, unfortunately, lacks a sense of humor, and I felt that the remark might have been more fortunate.

“Physical phenomena!” scoffed the cynic.  “I’ve seen it all—­objects moving without visible hands, unexplained currents of cold air, voice through a trumpet—­I know the whole rotten mess, and I’ve got a book which tells how to do all the tricks.  I’ll bring it along some night.”

Mrs. Dane smiled, and the discussion was dropped for a time.  It was during the coffee and cigars that Mrs. Dane made her announcement.  As Alice Robinson takes an after-dinner cigarette, a custom my wife greatly deplores, the ladies had remained with us at the table.

“As a matter of fact, Herbert,” she said, “we intend to put your skepticism to the test tonight.  Doctor Sperry has found a medium for us, a non-professional and a patient of his, and she has kindly consented to give us a sitting.”

Herbert wheeled and looked at Sperry.

“Hold up your right hand and state by your honor as a member in good standing that you have not primed her, Sperry.”