ls."

I was startled by the intensity of his manner more than by the words. In
spite of my half disgust at the whole proceedings, that were such an
exact repetition of more than one humbugging seance, I was forced into a
respectful attitude of mind, and at once became an interested assistant,
where a moment before I had been an unbelieving, critical observer. I
nodded my head, and Judson's grasp of my hand became firm.

Then there was complete silence for many moments. I bent all my mind to
the one thought that I would see that journal wherever in the large
world it might be. At first my thoughts would wander, but then it seemed
to me that Judson's grasp tightened and drew the desultory thought back
to the one subject of his own thoughts. I have considered this a good
deal since and conclude that Judson did, for the time at least, possess
some extraordinary power, possibly pure force of will. At all events, I
grew more and more determined to have my will done. Then there came a
calm voice from behind the curtain of the cabinet.

"What is your wish?"

No one spoke for a moment, and then a weak voice at my left said
something about a desire to see a child that had died, and another voice
expressed the wish to look upon the form of a departed husband. I was
too much occupied with my own thoughts to notice then that this was the
same old scene, enacted as at all the other seances. Again there was
perfect silence; it seemed interminable. I could hear the breathing of
the fat woman on my left. I could hear my watch ticking in my pocket. I
thought that I could hear my heart beat, but all the time there was the
firm pressure of the cold hand of my friend, and the constant thought,
now shaped into words and the words into a sentence, and that sentence
continually repeating itself until I seemed to hear that too: "I will
see that journal to-night."

And still that strange silence. The air in the room became close. Every
door and window had been carefully closed, and the breathing of twenty
or more persons had made large drafts on the oxygen. Suddenly a breath
fanned my cheek, then a stronger draught, and then a steady current of
air set against my face. I felt it move my hair, and it smelled of the
sea. It was salty. Yes, undoubtedly a strong, steady sea breeze was in
that room, and it brought with it the smell of a ship, tar and oakum and
pitch--the odor that arises when the sun beats hotly down upon the
unprotected deck an