He thought for a moment, and then said, "When I was a young man, I knew a girl called Nellie Davies--a pretty girl, my dear. I dare say I didn't treat her over well; but that's neither here nor there. Let's have her." Clever little Mlle. Claire asked a question or two--and Mr. Tappenham admired the neat and apparently undesigned nature of her questions--and then set to work, after drawing the curtains a shade closer, and turning the light a trifle lower. Mr. Tappenham sat comfortably in an armchair, his hands crossed over his white waistcoat, and a smile of satisfaction on his face. Presently the shadowy shape began to form itself a yard or two from Mr. Tappenham. "Capital, capital!" he chuckled. "That'll fetch 'em." The shape grew more definite. "Will that do?" asked Mlle. Claire triumphantly. "Is it like?" "Now, by Jove, it is rather! Make it speak." Mlle. Claire laughed, and, projecting her voice to the shape, began in low, sweet, sad tones. "You summoned me. What do you desire of your dead friend?" She stopped, laughing again, and said, "It's no use, when you're up to it beforehand." Mr. Tappenham did not answer her. He sat looking at the shape, and seemed to be listening intently. "Shall I go on?" she inquired. Mr. Tappenham took no notice. "What's the matter with him?" thought Mlle. Claire. "I shan't go on if he's not listening." Assuming her pretended voice again, she said, "I will try to forgive. Farewell, farewell!" and, with a merry, boisterous laugh, she displaced the arrangement which produced the illusion, and said to Mr. Tappenham: "Now are you satisfied?" Then she added, in a tone of surprise, "Whatever is the matter?" For, as she looked, the expression of his face changed from attention to surprise, from surprise to uneasiness. He turned to her and said, with a forced smile, "It's too clever--a sight too clever. That'll do; stop it, please." "Stop it?" "Yes. I've had enough. It's--it's damned absurd, but it's getting on my nerves. Stop it, I say--stop it!" His voice rose at the end almost into a cry. "Why, I have stopped it this three minutes!" she answered in surprise. His eyes had wandered from her to where the shape had been; but at her last words he turned to her again with a start. "What? No, no! No nonsense! Come, now, be a good girl and stop it. I've had enough." "Are you drunk?" asked Mlle. Claire impatiently. "It's all over." "I won't be made a fool of," said he angrily. "Stop it, or not a farthing do you get from me." "Heaven bless the man, he's mad!" exclaimed the lady, who began to be a little uncomfortable herself. It is an eerie thing to see a man looking hard at--nothing, and listening intently to--nothing. Suddenly he jumped up and ran toward Mlle. Claire. He seized her by the arm, and cried, "Stop, you little devil, stop! Do you want to madden me? I never did it, I never did. At least, I never meant it--so help me, God, I never meant it."