What was this horrible thing that he had listened to?--could it possibly be true? or had he been made the sport of some devil, who had assumed the shape and features of his dear old friend? But this idea, worthy only of such as have no knowledge of Spiritualism, was soon routed from his mind by reason. He _knew_ that it was Ricardo himself, who had spoken to him--Ricardo, with his delicate aquiline features--his piercing eyes, overshadowed by bushy brows--his sensitive mouth, and pointed beard and moustaches. If a devil could assume his every attribute in the séance chamber, then Von Steinberg might well doubt if the next acquaintance he met in the street were truly himself, or a devil in his guise. This apparition of his best friend had come again and again (as he had heard on the testimony of strangers), and called his name, that he might confide to him the awful story which was stirring his being to its depths. He had told it to him--not for his own sake, the wrong was over, for him--but lest Von Steinberg should fall into the same net in which he had been caught. But could it--could it--_could it be true?_ Von Steinberg glanced round at the evidences of luxury which surrounded him--the soft Persian carpet--the carved furniture--the valuable paintings--the Venetian glass--and wondered what _more_ he could have bestowed upon this woman, whom he first thought of befriending for Ricardo’s sake--Ricardo, who she had sent into Eternity! It was not so much the horror of his friend’s death that oppressed him--those who are convinced that the dead still live, come to look very calmly on the separation, which more ignorant mortals regard with fear--but the contemplated horror of living on with the woman who had betrayed him! _That_ he felt to be impossible! He could never again take Hannah in his arms and call her “wife”, whilst the spirit of Ricardo stood between them and hurled another name at her. What should he do? What was to be his next step? How were matters to be arranged for the future? He wished at that moment that he were a medium himself, and had the power to call back the spirit of Ricardo, and ask his advice about it all. After he had brooded over the terrible affair for some time, Von Steinberg began to question whether, after all, he might not be mistaken, or that Ricardo might have been so! He knew that spirits on their first appearance after death, were often confused and but half conscious--could not remember names or dates--nor recognise those to whom they had been dear! But yet he had never heard of anyone making a mistake on so important a subject as this.