il we have finished with our records."

(e) At a private seance, which Mr. Johnson and I decided was excusable
under the circumstances, the medium was unable to give us anything. This
in spite of the fact that we had taken with us a walking-stick belonging
to the dead man.

(f) The second sitting of the Club. I need only refresh your minds as
to one or two things; the medium spoke of a lost pocketbook, and of
letters. While the point is at least capable of doubt, apparently the
letters were in the pocketbook. Also, she said that a curtain would have
been better, that Hawkins was a nuisance, and that everything was all
right unless the bullet had made a hole in the floor above. You will
also recall the mention of a box of cartridges in a table drawer in
Arthur Wells's room.

"I will now ask Mr. Horace Johnson to tell what occurred on the night
before last, Thursday evening."

"I do not think Horace has a very clear recollection of last Thursday
night," my wife said, coldly. "And I wish to go on record at once that
if he claims that spirits broke his hat, stole his overcoat, bumped his
head and sent him home with a pair of fire-tongs for a walking-stick, I
don't believe him."

Which attitude Herbert, I regret to say, did not help when he said:

"Don't worry, Horace will soon be too old for the gay life. Remember
your arteries, Horace."

I have quoted this interruption to show how little, outside of Sperry,
Mrs. Dane and myself, the Neighborhood Club appreciated the seriousness
of the situation. Herbert, for instance, had been greatly amused when
Sperry spoke of my finding the razorstrop and had almost chuckled over
our investigation of the ceiling.

But they were very serious when I had finished my statement.

"Great Scott!" Herbert said. "Then she was right, after all! I say, I
guess I've been no end of an ass."

I was inclined to agree with him. But the real effect of my brief speech
was on my wife.

It was a real compensation for that night of terror and for the
uncomfortable time since to find her gaze no longer cold, but
sympathetic, and--if I may be allowed to say so--admiring. When at last
I sat down beside her, she put her hand on my arm in a way that I had
missed since the unfortunate affair of the pharmacy whiskey.

Mrs. Dane then read and explained the two clippings and the letter, and
the situation, so far as it had developed, was before the Club.

Were we to go on, or to stop?

Put to a vote