issed a beat. Then the whining, terror-stricken voice of the
mulatto broke the stillness: "Let Travis try," he whispered hoarsely.
"My spirits will not come until 'e 'as tried. Let 'im try fo'
fifteen minutes, and when 'e 'as failed I will summon the ghost of
Bula-Wayo, the king of all the tribes of the Niger. But let Travis
try first!" This last almost pleadingly.

A moment more of silence and Ambrose's deep voice boomed forth in
the darkness.

"Ah's willin'," he declared. "Anythin' dat now appears will be mah
doin'--ten minits is all Ah asks. Am dat sat'sfact'ry?"

"Yaas," replied the voice of Behemoth Scott. "Go ahaid wif yo'
sperit-summonin', Mista Travis."

"Ah'll cawncentrate now," replied Ambrose, "an' sho'tly you-all will
witness ample proof of mah bein' a genuine Voo-doo. _Ah's stahtin_'."

Silence more terrible than ever fell upon the waiting negroes.
Then--horror of horrors! a peculiar grating, rustling sound came
from the vicinity of Ambrose--a slight creaking--and again silence.
The investigators held hands of neighbours who trembled from sheer
panic, whose breath came hard and panting from this awful suspense!

Another creaking, as though Ambrose had shifted his weight in his
chair....

Then--baleful--in its green, ghastly glow--a dim, indistinct light
shone in the centre of the circle! Moving slowly, like a newly
awakened spirit, it waved in the very midst of the gasping committee.
Back and forth, up and down, it moved--glowing, vaporous, ghostly.
Two hundred pairs of bulging eyes saw the horror--and realized that
it was an enormous hand, terribly deformed!

Some one moaned with terror--a woman screamed. "De hand ob death!"
shrieked a man. "Run--run fo' yo' lives!"

The stampede was spontaneous! Chairs were overturned and tables
smashed in this frightful panic in the dark. No one thought of
turning on the lights--everyone's sole aim was to leave that
appalling shining hand--and get out!

A crashing on the stairway marked where Raffin, chair and all, was
making his fear-stricken way to the street. In one brief minute the
place was apparently empty save for Ambrose. Still tied to his chair,
he inquired: "Is any one hyar?"

For a second there was silence, then the dulcet tones of Miss
Aphrodite fell on the big negro's ear: "Ah's hyar, Ambrose," she said.

"Well, den"--recognizing her voice--"would you mine lightin' de gas
till Ah can tie mahself loose from dis hyar throne ob glory?"

In a mo