n
at the open door, the voice of Vance commanded sternly: "No whispering,
please. The medium is susceptible to the least sound." There was another
longer pause, until in hushed expectant tones Vance spoke again. "The
air is very heavily charged with electricity tonight," he said, "you,
Mrs. Marsh, should feel that?"

"I do, Professor," murmured the medium, "I do. We shall have some
wonderful results!"

Vance agreed with her solemnly. "I feel influences all about me," he
murmured.

There came suddenly from the cabinet three sharp raps. These were
instantly answered by other quick rappings upon the library table.
"They are beginning!" chanted the voice of Vance. The music of the organ
ceased. It was at once followed by the notes of a guitar that seemed to
float in space, the strings vibrating, not as though touched by human
hands, but in fitful, meaningless chords like those of an Aeolian harp.

"That is Kiowa, your control, Mrs. Marsh," announced Vance eagerly. "Do
you desire to speak to him?"

"Not tonight," Mrs. Marsh answered. She raised her voice. "Not tonight,
Kiowa," she repeated. "Thank you for coming. Good night."

In deep, guttural accents, a man's voice came from the ceiling. "Good
night," it called. With a final, ringing wail, the music of the guitar
suddenly ceased.

Again rose the swelling low notes of the organ. Above it came the quick
pattering of footsteps.

The voice of Rainey, filled with alarm, cried, "some one touched me!"

"Are you sure your hands are held?" demanded Vance reprovingly.

"Yes," panted Rainey, "both of them. But something put its hand on my
forehead. It was cold."

In an excited whisper, a voice in the circle cried, "Look, look!" and
before the eyes of all, a star rose in the darkness. For a moment it
wavered over the cabinet and then fluttered swiftly across the room and
remained stationary above the head of the German Professor.

"There is your star, Professor," cried Vance. "When the Professor is in
the circle," he announced proudly, "that star always appears."

He was interrupted by a startled exclamation from Lee.

"Something touched my face," explained the young man apologetically,
"and spoke to me."

The music sank to a murmur, and the room became alive with swift,
rushing sounds and soft whisperings.

The voice of Mrs. Marsh, low and eager, could be heard appealing to an
invisible presence.

"The results are marvelous," chanted Vance, "marvelous! The mediu