And then, eying the fireplace, he deliberately took a picture from
the wall and set it on the fender.

Miss Jeremy gave the room only the most casual of glances.

"Where shall I sit?" she asked.

Mrs. Dane indicated her place, and she asked for a small stand to
be brought in and placed about two feet behind her chair, and two
chairs to flank it, and then to take the black cloth from the table
and hang it over the bamboo rod, which was laid across the backs
of the chairs. Thus arranged, the curtain formed a low screen
behind her, with the stand beyond it. On this stand we placed, at
her order, various articles from our pockets--I a fountain pen,
Sperry a knife; and my wife contributed a gold bracelet.

We all felt, I fancy, rather absurd. Herbert's smile in the dim
light became a grin. "The same old thing!" he whispered to me.
"Watch her closely. They do it with a folding rod."

We arranged between us that we were to sit one on each side of her,
and Sperry warned me not to let go of her hand for a moment. "They
have a way of switching hands," he explained in a whisper. "If she
wants to scratch her nose I'll scratch it."

We were, we discovered, not to touch the table, but to sit around
it at a distance of a few inches, holding hands and thus forming the
circle. And for twenty minutes we sat thus, and nothing happened.
She was fully conscious and even spoke once or twice, and at last