went on playing.

The figure was by this time unmistakably that of a man lying down.
The face focused itself into distinctness. The body was draped in a
sort of shroud, but the features were those of a young man. One
smooth hand fell over, nearly touching the floor, white and
motionless. The weaker spirits of the company stared at the vision
in sick horror; the rest were grave and perplexed. The seeming man
was dead, but somehow it did not appear like a death succeeding life,
but like a death preliminary to life. All felt that he might sit up
at any minute.

"Stop that music!" muttered Backhouse, tottering from his chair and
facing the party. Faull touched the bell. A few more bars sounded,
and then total silence ensued.

"Anyone who wants to may approach the couch," said Backhouse with
difficulty.

Lang at once advanced, and stared awestruck at the supernatural
youth.

"You are at liberty to touch," said the medium.

But Lang did not venture to, nor did any of the others, who one by
one stole up to the couch--until it came to Faull's turn. He looked
straight at Mrs. Trent, who seemed frightened and disgusted at the
spectacle before her, and then not only touched the apparition but
suddenly grasped the drooping hand in his own and gave it a powerful
squeeze. Mrs. Trent gave a low scream. The ghostly visitor opened