“But I can’t get the focus of this at all!” cried Malone. “Could you clear my mind a little on the point? I accept for the moment your hypothesis, that we are surrounded by material earth-bound spirits who find themselves under strange conditions which they don’t understand, and who want counsel and guidance. That more or less expresses it, does it not?” The Maileys both nodded their agreement. “Well, their dead friends and relatives are presumably on the other side and cognisant of their benighted condition. They know the truth. Could they not minister to the wants of these afflicted ones far better than we can?” “It is a most natural question,” Mailey answered. “Of course we put that objection to them and we can only accept their answer. They appear to be actually anchored to the surface of this earth, too heavy and gross to rise. The others are, presumably, on a spiritual level and far separated from them. They explain that they are much nearer to us and that they are cognisant of us, but not of anything higher. Therefore it is we who can reach them best.” “There was one poor dear dark soul----” “My wife loves everybody and everything,” Mailey explained. “She is capable of talking of the poor dear devil.” “Well, surely they are to be pitied and loved!” cried the lady. “This poor fellow was nursed along by us week by week. He had really come from the depths. Then one day he cried in rapture, ‘My mother has come! My mother is here!’ We naturally said, ‘But why did she not come before?’ ‘How could she,’ said he, ‘when I was in so dark a place that she could not see me?’” “That’s very well,” said Malone, “but so far as I can follow your methods it is some guide or control or higher spirit who regulates the whole matter and brings the sufferer to you. If he can be cognisant, one would think other higher spirits could also be.” “No, for it is his particular mission,” said Mailey. “To show how marked the divisions are I can remember one occasion when we had a dark soul here. Our own people came through and did not know he was there until we called their attention to it. When we said to the dark soul, ‘Don’t you see our friends beside you?’ he answered, ‘I can see a light but nothing else.’” At this point the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. John Terbane from Victoria Station, where his mundane duties lay. He was dressed now in civil garb and appeared as a pale, sad-faced, clean-shaven, plump-featured man with dreamy, thoughtful eyes, but no other indication of the remarkable uses to which he was put. “Have you my record?” was his first question. Mrs. Mailey, smiling, handed him an envelope. “We kept it all ready for you but you can read it at home. You see,” she explained, “poor Mr. Terbane is in trance and knows nothing of the wonderful work of which he is the instrument, so after each sitting my husband and I draw up an account for him.” “Very much astonished I am when I read it,” said Terbane.