As for the coroner, when at length he arrived, he too--to my astonishment and unspeakable relief--accepted Susan's automatic story without delay or demur. Here was a stroke of sheer good luck, for a grateful change--but quite as senseless in itself, when seriously considered, as the cruel accident to Gertrude. It merely _happened_ that the coroner's sister was a professional medium, and that he and his whole family were ardent believers in spiritualism, active missionaries in that cause. He had started life as an East Side street-urchin, had the coroner, and had scrambled up somehow from bondage to influence, fighting his way single-fisted through a hard school that does not often foster illusions; but I have never met a more eagerly credulous mind. He accepted the automatic writing as evidence without a moment's cavil, assuring us at once that it undoubtedly came as a direct message from the dead. Doctor Askew's preliminary explanations he simply brushed aside. If Miss Blake in her present trance state, which he soon satisfied himself was genuine, had produced this message, then her hand had been controlled by a disembodied spirit--probably Mrs. Hunt's. There was no arguing with the man, and on my part, heaven knows, no desire to oppose him! I listened gratefully for one hour to his wonder tales of spirit revelations, and blessed him when he reluctantly left us--with the assurance that Gertrude's death would be at once reported as due to an unavoidable accident. It was so announced in the noon editions of the evening papers. Sergeant Conlon and his aids departed by the service elevator, and were soon replaced by a shocked and grieved clergyman and a competent undertaker. The funeral--to take place in New Haven--was arranged for; telegrams were sent; one among them to Phil. Even poor Miss Goucher was at last remembered and communicated with--only just in time, I fear, to save her reason. But of her more in its place. And, meanwhile, throughout all this necessary confusion, Susan slept on. Noon was past, and she still slept.... And Doctor Askew and I watched beside her, and talked together. At precisely seven minutes to three--I was bending over her at the moment, studying her face for any sign of stirring consciousness--she quietly opened her eyes. "Ambo," were her first words, "I believe in God now; a God, anyway. I believe in _Setebos_----" V