“Georgie, you’ve got it!” she said. “It’s the mulberry-tree that’s dead. Isn’t that wonderful?” Georgie was suitably impressed. “That’s very curious: very curious indeed,” he said. “Letter from Lucia, and the dead mulberry tree. I do believe there’s something in it. But let’s go on studying the script. Now I look at it again I feel certain it is Riseholme Museum, not Riseholme Mouse. The only difficulty is that there isn’t a Museum in Riseholme.” “There are plenty of mice,” observed Daisy, who had had some trouble with these little creatures. “Abfou may be wanting to give me advice about some kind of ancient Egyptian trap.... But if you aren’t very busy this morning, Georgie, we might have another sitting and see if we get anything more definite. Let us attain collectedness as the directions advise.” “What’s collectedness?” asked Georgie. Daisy gave him the directions. Collectedness seemed to be a sort of mixture of intense concentration and complete vacuity of mind. “You seem to have to concentrate your mind upon nothing at all,” said he after reading it. “That’s just it,” said Daisy. “You put all thoughts out of your head, and then focus your mind. We have to be only the instrument through which Abfou functions.” They sat down again after a little deep breathing and relaxation, and almost immediately the planchette began to move across the paper with a firm and steady progression. It stopped sometimes for a few minutes, which was proof of the authenticity of the controlling force, for in spite of all efforts at collectedness, both Daisy’s and Georgie’s minds were full of things which they longed for Abfou to communicate, and if either of them was consciously directing those movements, there could have been no pause at all. When finally it gave that great dash across the paper again, indicating that the communication was finished, they found the most remarkable results. Abfou had written two pages of foolscap in a tall upright hand, which was quite unlike either Daisy’s or Georgie’s ordinary script, and this was another proof (if proof were wanted) of authenticity. It was comparatively easy to read, and, except for a long passage at the end in Arabic, was written almost entirely in English. “Look, there’s Lucia written out in full four times,” said Daisy eagerly. “And ‘Pepper.’ What’s Pepper?” Georgie gasped. “Why Pepino, of course,” he said. “I do call that odd. And see how it goes on--‘Muck company,’ no ‘Much company, much grand company, higher and higher.’” “Poor Lucia!” said Daisy. “How sarcastic! That’s what Abfou thinks about it all. By the way, you haven’t told me what she says yet; never mind, this is far more interesting.... Then there’s a little Arabic, at least I think it’s Arabic, for I can’t make anything out of it, and then--why, I believe those next words are ‘From Olga.’ Have you heard from Olga?” “No,” said Georgie, “but there’s something about her in Lucia’s letter. Perhaps that’s it.”