MRS. DON. ‘Not unless he wishes it. Why are those words so important? Does the message end there? Is any one working against you? Some one antagonistic? Yes. Not one of ourselves surely? No. Is it any one we know? Yes. Can I get the name in the usual way? Yes. Is the first letter of this person’s name A?--B?----’ It proves to be F. One begins to notice a quaint peculiarity of Mrs. Don’s. She is so accustomed to homage that she expects a prompt response even from the shades. ‘Is the second letter A?’ The table moves. ‘FA. Fa----?’ She is suddenly enlightened. ‘Is the word Father? Yes.’ They all turn and look for the first time at Mr. Don. He has heard, and rises apologetically. MR. DON, distressed, ‘I had no intention----Should I go away, Grace?’ She answers sweetly without a trace of the annoyance she must surely feel. MRS. DON. ‘Perhaps you had better, Robert.’ ROGERS. ‘I suppose it is because he is an unbeliever? He is not openly antagonistic, is he?’ MRS. DON, sadly enough, ‘I am afraid he is.’ They tend to discuss the criminal as if he was not present. MAJOR. ‘But he must admit that we do get messages.’ MRS. DON, reluctantly, ‘He says we think we do. He says they would not want to communicate with us if they had such trivial things to say.’ ROGERS. ‘But we are only on the threshold, Don. This is just a beginning.’ LAURA. ‘Didn’t you hear, Mr. Don--“Love Bade Me Welcome”?’ MR. DON. ‘Does that strike you as important, Laura?’ LAURA. ‘He said it was.’ MRS. DON. ‘It might be very important to him, though we don’t understand why.’ She speaks gently, but there is an obstinacy in him, despite his meekness. MR. DON. ‘I didn’t mean to be antagonistic, Grace. I thought. I wasn’t thinking of it at all.’ MRS. DON. ‘Not thinking of Dick, Robert? And it was only five months ago!’ MR. DON, who is somehow, without meaning it, always in the wrong, ‘I’ll go.’ ROGERS. ‘A boy wouldn’t turn his father out. Ask him.’ MR. DON, forlornly, ‘As to that--as to that----’ MRS. DON. ‘I will ask him if you wish me to, Robert.’ MR. DON. ‘No, don’t.’ ROGERS. ‘It can’t worry you as you are a disbeliever.’ MR. DON. ‘No, but--I shouldn’t like you to think that he sent me away.’ ROGERS. ‘He won’t. Will he, Mrs. Don?’ MR. DON, knowing what her silence implies, ‘You see, Dick and I were not very--no quarrel or anything of that sort--but I, I didn’t much matter to Dick. I’m too old, perhaps.’ MRS. DON, gently, ‘I won’t ask him, Robert, if you would prefer me not to.’ MR. DON. ‘I’ll go.’ MRS. DON. ‘I’m afraid it is too late now.’ She turns away from earthly things. ‘Do you want me to break off?’ The table moves. ‘Yes. Do you send me your love, Dick? Yes. And to Laura? Yes.’ She raises her eyes to Don, and hesitates. ‘Shall I ask him----?’ MR. DON. ‘No, no, don’t.’ ROGERS. ‘It would be all right, Don.’ MR. DON. ‘I don’t know.’ They leave the table.