Instantly, and to my profound amazement, a book rose in the air, and I could see _two hands_ in silhouette plainly and vigorously thumbing the volume, which was held about three feet above the table, and to the psychic's left. "Miller," I said, excitedly, "I see hands!" "I do not," he answered; "but I hear a rustling." Swift on the trail, I called out: "Now, show me your empty hand, 'Wilbur.' I want to see how big it is." A moment later I exclaimed, in profound excitement: "I can see a _large_ hand against the window, and, strangest part of all, the spread fingers are pointing _toward_ Mrs. Smiley, the wrist is nearest you and at least six feet from the psychic. It is a man's hand. You are not doing this, Miller?" "Certainly not!" he answered, curtly. "This is astonishing! It certainly is a hand and much larger than that of a woman, and _the wrist is toward you_. It is still at least four feet from the psychic. Oh, for a flash-light camera now! I was perfectly certain that this is not the psychic's hand, and yet to admit that it is not is to grant the whole theory of materialization." At last the shadow disappeared. The book fell. With a ringing scrape the cone rose in the air and the voice of "Wilbur" came from it life-like--almost full-toned, and with a note of humorous exultation running through it. "_I told you I'd astonish you!_" he said. "_Don't get in a hurry; there's more coming._" For nearly two hours thereafter this "spirit voice" kept us all interested and busy. He was very much alive, and we alternately laughed at his quaint conceits or pondered the implications of his casual remarks. It was precisely as if a rollicking Western, or, rather, Southern, man were speaking to us over the 'phone. I asked: "Who are you? Is 'Wilbur' your surname?" "_No; my middle name. My family name is Thompson._" His characterization was perfect. He responded to every question with readiness and perfect aplomb. At times he played jokes on us. He bumped Miller on the head, and touched him on the cheek farthest from the psychic. At my request he covered Mrs. Miller's ear with the large end of the horn, then reversed and nuzzled her temple with the small end. She said it felt like a caress, as if guided by a tender hand. She had become clairvoyant also, and saw many forms about the room. I could see nothing. "Tell us more about yourself, 'Wilbur'?" I asked. "Who are you? What did you do on the earth?" "_I was a soldier._" "In the Civil War?" "_Yes._" "On which side?" "_That's a leading question_," he answered, with some hesitation. "Oh, come now, the war is over!" "_I was on the Southern side. I am Jeff. W. Thompson. I was a brigadier-general._" "Where were you killed?" "_I was invalided home to Jefferson City, and passed out there._" "How do you happen to be 'guide' to this little woman?" He hesitated again. "_I was attracted to her_," he said, and gave no further explanation.