“You will kindly give me the rest of the writing,” Mrs. Medford went on, to Fenwick. But Mrs. Conway stepped forward and slipped the sheets from Fenwick’s grasp. He let her take them, though he looked at Allis anxiously. The situation was becoming Mrs. Conway’s. “I have them, you see.” She turned to Mrs. Medford. “And if you insist, _you_ shall have them. Of course I wish you would let me destroy them all, here and now. It isn’t true, you know, that the dead communicate. They don’t.” Mrs. Medford was shaking, but her voice was still her own. “They do. I know they do. Jack talked to me through Mrs. Weale, who’s dead now. But not this kind of thing. It’s wicked, it’s beastly, what you’ve done!” she cried to Fenwick. “But, Mrs. Medford, I don’t even know what’s there--except the first sentences. I never knew your brother. I don’t believe this stuff, of course.” “Nobody believes anything, Fanny.” Allis corroborated him. “This sort of thing has been shown up, time and again, for the most arrant trash. It’s just our bad luck that something got written that was upsetting for you.” “You believe it--you know you do.” Her voice was half a choke in her throat. To my consternation, Allis did not deny it, at once and with passion. “Fanny, don’t be absurd. You know perfectly well what my attitude to these matters is--purely scientific skepticism.” “I say that you believe those things of Jack. As for Mr. Fenwick”--she disposed of him then and there with a look of loathing--“I leave him to the rest of you.” Maud Allis followed her out of the room. Allis took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Any one of you men feel like seeing her home?” he asked. “Fenwick and I would seem to be out of the running.” Mrs. Conway put out her hand. “Good-night, Mr. Allis. Of course I’m going to take her home. What did you suppose I ordered my car for?” She did not bid the rest of us good-night, but she seemed to address us all in parting. “Naturally, I don’t know what’s in these papers. But I take it, it is something pretty bad--about her brother. Mrs. Medford may have to see them, since I promised her; but I guarantee you they shall be destroyed without my, or anyone’s else, reading them. It’s all nonsense, of course, but you see she half believes. Truly, I’m the best person to see her through, because I can explain it.” “It’s just some foolish trick of muscles--and re-arranging all the words in the dictionary,” burst in Fenwick, hotly. “Yes.” She smiled. “But _what_ foolish trick? That’s what you can’t explain to her. And I can. You may not think my explanation is correct, but at least it begins at the beginning and sees you through to the end. That is why I shall try to convince her. You open-minded people can’t.” “Even so,” Allis said, “I don’t see how you’re going to manage it.” She had turned to go, but she stopped and answered him. “I’ve this advantage, you see. You can’t tell her _why_ it happened. I can. Malice accounts for everything.”