door of the salon. Then she
carefully turned out all the lights in the hall and in the kitchen and
went into the salon. The rest of the house was in darkness. This room
was brightly lit; and it had been made ready.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE SEANCE

Helene Vauquier locked the door of the salon upon the inside and placed
the key upon the mantel-shelf, as she had always done whenever a seance
had been held. The curtains had been loosened at the sides of the
arched recess in front of the glass doors, ready to be drawn across.
Inside the recess, against one of the pillars which supported the arch,
a high stool without a back, taken from the hall, had been placed, and
the back legs of the stool had been lashed with cord firmly to the
pillar, so that it could not be moved. The round table had been put in
position, with three chairs about it. Mme. Dauvray waited impatiently.
Celia stood apparently unconcerned, apparently lost to all that was
going on. Her eyes saw no one. Adele looked up at Celia, and laughed
maliciously.

"Mademoiselle, I see, is in the very mood to produce the most wonderful
phenomena. But it will be better, I think, madame," she said, turning
to Mme. Dauvray, "that Mlle. Celie should put on those gloves which I
see she has thrown on to a chair. It will be a little more difficult
for mademoiselle to loosen these cords, should she wish to do so."

The argument silenced Celia. If she refused this condition now she
would excite Mme. Dauvray to a terrible suspicion. She drew on her
gloves ruefully and slowly, smoothed them over her elbows, and buttoned
them. To free her hands with her fingers and wrists already hampered in
gloves would not be so easy a task. But there was no escape. Adele
Rossignol was watching her with a satiric smile. Mme. Dauvray was
urging her to be quick. Obeying a second order the girl raised her
skirt and extended a slim foot in a pale-green silk stocking and a
satin slipper to match. Adele was content. Celia was wearing the shoes
she was meant to wear. They were made upon the very same last as those
which Celia had just kicked off upstairs. An almost imperceptible nod
from Helene Vauquier, moreover, assured her.

She took up a length of the thin cord.

"Now, how are we to begin?" she said awkwardly. "I think I will ask
you, mademoiselle, to put your hands behind you."

Celia turned her back and crossed her wrists. She stood in her satin
frock, with her white arms and shoulders