The psychic, leaning forward slightly, fixed her wide, deep-blue eyes upon him. "The maid conducted me to the room which had been your wife's, but I could not stay there. This lady who stands beside you took me by the hand and led me away to another room. She is nodding at me now." "Do you mean the maid led you from the room?" "No, I mean the spirit now standing behind you led me here. She says her name is Margaret Bartol. She said: '_Comfort my dear husband. Restore his faith._' She is smiling at me. She wants me to go on." Bartol's face remained inscrutably calm. "Where does the form seem to be?" "At your right shoulder. She says, '_Tell him Walter and Hattie are both with me._' She listened a moment. She says, '_Tell him Walter's mind is perfectly clear now._'" Victor thought he saw the lawyer start in surprise, but his voice was cold as he said, "Go on." "She says: '_Tell him the way is open. I am here. Ask him to speak to me._'" Bartol then spoke, but his tone plainly showed that he was testing his client's hallucination and not addressing himself to the imaginary ghost. "Are you there, Margaret?" "_Yes_," came the answer, clearly though faintly. The renowned lawyer gazed at the medium with eyes that burned deep, and presently he asked, "What have you to say to me?" Again came the clear, silvery whisper: "_Much. Trust the medium. She will comfort you._" Victor thrilled to the importance of this moment, and much as he feared for his mother's success, he could not but admire the courage which blazed in her steady eyes. She was no longer afraid of this mighty man of the law, to whom heaven and hell were obsolete words. She was panoplied with the magic and mystery of death, and waited calmly for him to continue. At last he said: "Go on. I am listening." Again through the flower-scented, silent room the sibilant voice stole its way. "_Father._" "Who is speaking?" "_Margaret._" "Margaret? What Margaret?" "_Your 'rascal' Peggy._" Bartol certainly started at this reply, which conveyed an expression of mirth, but his questions continued formal. "What is your will with me?" "_Mamma is here--and Walter._" "Can they speak?" "_They will try._" Again silence fell upon the room--a silence so profound that every insect's stir was a rude interruption. At length another whisper, clearer, louder, made itself heard: "_Alexander, be happy. I live._" "Who are you?" "_Your wife._" "You say so. Can you prove your identity?" The whisper grew fainter. "_I will try. It is hard. Good-by._" Bartol raised his hand to his head with a gesture of surprise. "I thought I felt a touch on my hair." "The lady touched you as she passed away," Mrs. Ollnee explained. "She has gone. They are all gone now." "I am sorry," he said, in polite disappointment. "I wanted to pursue the interrogation. Is this the usual method of your communications?"