him that Mr. Kilbright's circumstances had so changed that the intended
action of the spiritualists in regard to him was now rendered
impossible. He had become an active member of society, had gone into
business, and would be married in April. The mere statement of these
facts would, I felt quite certain--so I wrote--cause the spiritualists
to instantly relinquish all idea of carrying out their previous
intention in regard to this most estimable man. If, however, any inhuman
craving for scientific investigation should cause them to persist in
their cruel and criminal designs, the utmost power of the law should be
invoked against them. "To take away human life," I wrote, "in a case
like this is murder, no matter how it is done, and should you take away
Mr. Kilbright's life, or even attempt it, you shall be indicted and
punished for this cold-blooded and premeditated crime."

Before I had read this letter, I found it absolutely necessary for my
peace of mind that I should make my wife acquainted with the threatened
danger, and confer with her as to what it would be well to do. Of
course, Mrs. Colesworthy was greatly shocked when I read her Corbridge's
letter, but she recovered courage sooner than I had done.

"It's all stuff and nonsense," she said. "The man is just as much alive
as you and I are, and I don't believe any human power can turn him into
a spirit. They might kill him, but then he would be a dead man and not a
spiritual mist or vapor. I don't believe they even intend to try to do
anything of the kind. They merely wish you to hand him over to them so
they can make him work for them for little or no pay. They think, and
with good reason, too, that by this time you have taught him how to get
along at the present day, and that he may now be of some use to them."

I showed her the letter I had written, and she highly approved of it.