Bartol fell into the mode at once. "We are glad to be so honored. Now Watts, I want--and I must have--incontestable proof of the psychic's abnormal power--nothing else can save her from State prison. Do you realize that?" "_We do._" "Very well, proceed." "_What would you call incontestable proof?_" "I should say a registered pressure on the key or the lighting of the lamp above the cabinet--" A vivid red flash lit up the room. Stinchfield shouted, "The lamp--the lamp was lit!" His excitement, to all but Bartol, was ludicrously high, and Mrs. Joyce openly chuckled. "What else do you want done, Mr. Science?" "Writing independent of Mrs. Ollnee," replied Bartol. After a long and painful silence the bell tinkled faintly, and as all listened breathlessly the zither began to play. "Now who is doing that?" asked the engineer. "_Turn on the green light!_" suggested the Voice. Stinchfield lit the green lamp, and by its glow the psychic was seen in her cage reclining limply, her face ghostly white in the light. Bartol looked about the circle. Every hand was in view, and yet the zither continued to play its weird and wistful little tune. Leo and Mrs. Joyce took this as a matter of course, but the men sat in rigid amazement. "_Lights out!_" whispered the Voice. Stinchfield put out his lamp. "That is astounding," he said. "I cannot analyze that." "_Will you swear the psychic did not do it?_" asked the Voice. The engineer hesitated. "Yes," he finally said. "_Is this sufficient?_" asked the unseen. Bartol replied. "Sufficient for my argument; but I do not understand these physical effects, and the jury may demand other proof. It will be necessary for us to show that the messages which misled, as well as those which comforted, came from some power outside the psychic and beyond her control. I believe that, as in the case of Anna Rothe--condemned by a German court to a long term of imprisonment--the charge of imposture and swindling made against Mrs. Ollnee must lie, unless I can demonstrate that these messages come from her subconscious self in some occult way, or from personalities other than herself. In fact, the whole case against Mrs. Ollnee lies in the question--does she believe in The Voices as entities existing and acting outside herself--" He interrupted himself to say: "Something is tapping my hand. It feels like the small tin horn." "_It is!_" came the answer in such volume that it could be heard all over the room. "_Does this not prove the medium innocent of ventriloquism?_" "Stinchfield--what about this?" asked Bartol. The engineer could only repeat: "I don't understand it. It is out of my range." Again the red lamp above the cabinet flashed, and by its momentary glow the horn was seen floating high over the cage, in which the medium sat motionless and ghastly white. "Shall I flashlight that?" asked Stinchfield again.