emains with me of rare woods and exquisite marbles,
and the walls were hung with framed tapestries representing various
scenes in the Queen's life.

To me the most striking and beautiful thing in the room was a
full-length, life-sized portrait of Mary herself, so arranged that a
hidden lamp threw its soft light on the features; whilst the hanging
velvet curtains of deep crimson on either side concealed the frame of
the picture, and conveyed the illusion that a living woman was standing
there ready to receive her guests.

I have never seen anything more perfect than the way in which this
impression was conveyed, without a jarring note of sensational effect.

The two French women mediums were already in the room, and I am bound to
say they did not attract me pleasantly nor impress me very favourably.
They were mother and daughter, and "Harpy" was written large over either
countenance. Doubtless they were very good mediums, in spite of this
fact. They _must_ have been so, unless one supposes that Lady Caithness
and the Abbe Petit were themselves abnormally strong sensitives; in
which case one would have thought this extraneous help would have been
unnecessary.

We sat down at a fairly large wooden table, polished, but without
covering of any kind, and having only one solid support to it, coming
from the centre, passing down as a single wooden pillar, and spreading
out in the usual fashion at the bottom. I had noted this on first
entering the room.

The two women sat together on my right-hand side. On my left was the
Abbe, and the Countess sat exactly opposite to me, with a printed
alphabet pasted on to a card, and a long pencil as pointer.

This made up the party. At a side table, placed some distance away, sat
a pleasant young French lady, who was writing automatically all the
time; a secretary to the Countess, I believe. This young lady had no
possible connection with the table.

The _seance_ began with a few words of prayer from the Abbe for light
and guidance.

The process was as follows:--First, the Countess and then I took the
printed alphabet, and pointed silently and at a fair pace to the
letters, going on from one to the other without pause. At the letter
needed the table did not rise, but gave a sound more like a bang than a
rap. I have never heard anything _quite_ so loud and definite in my long
investigation. The sound seemed to come from _within the wood_, as in
ordinary "raps," when these are genuin