"Was it--" He paused. "If I ask a question mentally, will the spirits
reply?" I knew what he meant. He wanted to ask if it was his son, but
did not wish to speak openly.

"Ask," said I.

"I have," he returned.

I hesitated. It was rarely my policy to commit myself definitely, yet
here I fancied, from the facts of the case and his own terrible anxiety,
that he suspected, or more than suspected, his son as the guilty person.
I became sure of this as I studied his face. At all events, it would be
easy to deny or explain in case of trouble; and, after all, what slander
was there in two knocks? I struck twice as usual.

Instantly the old gentleman rose up, very white, but quite firm.
"There," he said, and cast a bank-note on the table, "I thank you," and
bending his head on his breast, walked, as I thought, with great effort
out of the room.

On the following morning, as I made my first appearance in my outer
room, which contained at least a dozen persons awaiting advice,
who should I see standing by the window but the old gentleman with
sandy-gray hair? Along with him was a stout young man with a head as
red as mine, and mustache and whiskers to match. Probably the son, I
thought--ardent temperament, remorse, come to confess, etc. I was
never more mistaken in my life. I was about to go regularly through my
patients when the old gentleman began to speak.

"I called, doctor," said he, "to explain the little matter about which