"Oh no! You may talk, if you do so quietly. Please touch fingers, so as to make a complete circuit. I don't think it really necessary, but it sometimes helps to produce the proper mental state; singing softly also tends to harmonize the 'conditions,' as the professionals say. Don't argue and don't be too eager. Lean back and rest. Take a passive attitude toward the whole problem. I find the whole process very restful. Harris, will you turn down the lights before--" "There!" said Miller, "the hocus-pocus begins. Why not perform in the light?" "Subdued light will bring the proper negative and inward condition sooner," I replied, taking a malicious delight in his disgust. "Now will some one sing 'Annie Laurie,' or any other sweet, low song? Let us get into genial, receptive mood. Miller, you and your fellow-doubters please retire to the far end of the room." In a voice that trembled a little, Mrs. Harris started the dear old melody, and all joined in, producing a soft and lulling chorus. At the end of the song I asked, matter-of-factly: "Are the conditions right? Are we sitting right?" Mrs. Quigg sharply queried, "Whom are you talking to?" "The 'guides,'" I answered. "The 'guides'!" she exclaimed. "Do you believe in the guides?" "I believe in the _belief_ of the guides," was my cryptic rejoinder. "Sing again, please." I really had no faith in the conditions of the circle, but for the joke of it I kept my sitters in place for nearly an hour by dint of pretending to hear creakings and to feel throbbings, until at last little Miss Brush became very deeply concerned. "I feel them, too," she declared. "Did some one blow on my hands? I felt a cold wave." Harris got up abruptly. "I'll join the doubters," said he. "This tomfoolery is too idiotic for me." Cameron followed, and Mrs. Quigg also rose. "I'll go with you," she said, decidedly. I was willing to quit, too, but Mrs. Harris and Miss Brush pleaded with me to continue. "Close up the circle, then. Probably Harris was the hoodoo. Things will happen now," I said, briskly, though still without any faith in the experiment. Hardly had Harris left the table when a shudder passed over Mrs. Harris, her head lifted, and her eyes closed. "What's the matter, Dolly?" whispered Mrs. Cameron. "Do you feel faint?" "Don't be alarmed! Mrs. Harris is only passing into a sleep. Not a word, Harris!" I said, warningly. "Please move farther away." In the dusky light the faces of all the women looked suddenly blanched and strange as the entranced woman seized upon the table with her hands, shaking it hard from side to side. The table seemed to wake to diabolic energy under her palms. This was an unexpected development, and I was almost as much surprised as the others were. "Sing again," I commanded, softly.