Hallowell eyed her greedily, waiting almost without breathing
for her words. The hand with which he held hers crushed her
rings into her fingers.

"What sort?" -- whispered the old man. "What sort of a woman?"

With eyes still closed, swaying slightly and with abrupt
shudders running down her body, the girl continued in dull,
fateful tones.

"She is a fair woman; about forty-five. She is speaking. She
calls to you, Brother, brother." Vera's voice rose excitedly.
"It is the woman in the picture; your sister! Catherine! I see
it written above her head -- Catherine. In letters of light."
She turned suddenly and fiercely. "Ask her your question!" she
commanded. "Ask her your question, now!"

By the sudden swaying forward of Vance and Rainey, in the intent
look in their eyes, it was evident that a crisis had approached.
But Mr. Hallowell, terrified and trembling, shrank back. His
voice broke hysterically. "No, no!" he pleaded. Both anger and
disappointment showed in the face of Vance and Rainey; but the
girl, as though detached from any human concerns, continued
unmoved. "I see another figure," she recited. "A young girl, but
she is of this world. I seem to get an H. Yes. Helen, in letters
of fire."

"My niece, Helen!" Hallowell whispered hoarsely.