"That was three nights ago. On each of the two succeeding nights
Henry Vandam says he has been awakened at precisely the same hour
by a rapping, and on each night his 'control' has given him a
message from his dead wife. As a man of science, I attribute the
whole thing to an overwrought imagination. The original rappings
may have been a mere coincidence with the fact of the condition
of Mrs. Vandam. However, I give this to you for what it is
worth."

Craig said nothing, but, as was his habit, shaded his eyes with
the tips of his fingers, resting his elbows on the arms of his
chair: "I suppose," he said, "you can give me the necessary
authority to enter the Vandam house and look at the scene of
these happenings?"

"Certainly," assented the physician, "but you will find it a
queer place. There are spirit paintings and spirit photographs in
every room, and Vandam's own part of the house--well, it's
creepy, that's all I can say."

"And also I suppose you have performed an autopsy on the body and
will allow me to drop into your laboratory to-morrow morning and
satisfy myself on this morphine point?"

"Certainly," replied the coroner's physician, "at any time you
say."

"At ten sharp, then, to-morrow I shall be there," said Craig. "It
is now eight-thirty. Do you think I can see Vandam to-night? What
time do these rappings occur?"