but it was
where we went down a short flight of steps._' 'That is correct also,'
said Blake. 'How many persons were there?' '_Five._' 'Quite right. Can
you tell me who they were?' '_Well, Mary was there, and you, of course;
but I can't be sure of the others._'

"Blake looked at me in astonishment, and our minds flashed along the
same line. Suppose the whisper were only a bit of clever ventriloquism,
how did the psychic secure the information conveyed in this dialogue? It
was given as I write it, with only a bit of hesitation once or twice;
and yet, it may have been merely thought transference."

"_Merely_ thought transference!" exclaimed Miller. "I consider thought
transference quite as absurd as slate-writing."

Fowler interposed. "I consider this a simple case of spirit
communication. You should be grateful for such a beautiful response."

"This significant fact is not to be overlooked," I resumed: "the psychic
secured almost nothing else that concerned either Blake's affairs or my
own. Mainly the whispers had to do with 'E. A.,' which, of course, bears
out Miller's notion that the psychic could deal only with what was
public property, and yet this little colloquy about the dinners in New
York is very convincing so far as mind-reading goes.

"During the third sitting, Blake again being present, 'E. A.' took
control, as before, from the start, and carried forward the recording of
the musical fragment. '_I want you to fill in the treble, Blake_,' he
said. '_It's nothing but the bare melody now._' Blake protested: 'I'm
not up to this.' And the whisper came swiftly, '_You're too modest,
Blake_'; and a moment later it said: '_I hope you're not bored,
Garland._' If all this was a little play of the psychic's devising it
was very clever, for after a few minutes of close attention to Blake,
'E. A.' turned toward me and asked, with anxious haste: '_Where's
Garland?_' 'I am here,' I answered. '_Don't go away_,' he entreated. It
was as if for the moment he had lost sight of me by reason of fixing
his attention upon Blake."

"That is singular!" exclaimed Fowler. "Their field of vision is
evidently much more restricted than we thought."

"It must be very small indeed, for Blake and I sat touching elbows. Two
or three times the whispering voice called, '_Is Garland here?_' and
once it asked: '_What is Garland doing? I see his hand moving._' I
explained that I was making notes. '_Don't do it!_' was the agitated
request."