"Now, can you tell me about how many years ago it was that your control passed out? Was it five years, twenty, or how long?" The question was accurately timed so as to be put just as Mr. Payson extended his hand. Vixley’s eyes held the old man’s in a direct gaze. During this psychological moment while his victim was intently trying to answer the question, the Professor, with a facile movement, put the two slates together and handed back the same one that had been washed. "I should say it would be nearly thirty years—twenty-seven." "All right," said Vixley. "Now, take this slate and wash it off like you did the other." The old man did so without noticing that it was the same one he had had before. Vixley took back the slate when he had finished, and, with a piece of chalk, drew diagonal lines from corner to corner upon each of the faces of both slates. "That will show you that the writin’ hasn’t been prepared beforehand, for you’ll see that the pencil will write through the chalk, showin’ it’s been done after I made these lines." As he held the two slates together in his hand, the false sheet from the upper one fell into the frame of the lower. He laid the two upon the table and took off the top one. The lower surface upon which the writing was now exposed he took care to hold so that it could not be seen. Next, he took the slip of paper which Mr. Payson had been holding, substituted for it with a deft motion the written question which he had previously palmed, and, throwing the blank into his lap, dropped the real one, with a small fragment of slate-pencil, upon the slate. He put the written slate on top of the other, writing down, then asked the old man to hold it in position, laying his own fingers upon it as well. A faint scratching was heard. It was too dark for the old man to notice the slight motions of Vixley’s finger-nail upon the surface. After a moment he removed the top slate and showed the writing, then, unfolded the slip. Mr. Payson looked at the inscription with curiosity and surprise. "Marvelous!" he exclaimed. "Why, it’s incredible. I didn’t know it could be done as simply as that. Why, all three of my questions are answered and they haven’t left my possession." "You seem to have a very strong control. Are the answers correct?" "I’ll soon find out," said Mr. Payson, "if you’ll raise the shades while I look at this book." He cut the strings of a package he had brought into the room, showed his copy of the _Astrology of the New Testament_ and turned to page one hundred. "Here it is, ’Chapter IX.’ It’s most extraordinary, indeed! Now for the number of my watch. Do you know, I didn’t even know these answers myself. That would tend to prove it’s not mere telepathy, wouldn’t it?" He took out his watch and opened the back covers. Upon the frame were engraved the figures "801,101." "That’s correct, too. Now for the last one—have you a telephone?" "Right down at the end of the hall."