"No, not sure--but attack by----"

The voice grew fainter and more incoherent, and in a moment the medium sat up straight and shook her head.

"He was troubled," she said, "I could see him though you couldn't, and he was sad and worried."

"What about?" asked Shelby, abruptly.

"I'm not sure, but I think because he didn't want to tell the awful details of his death."

"What were they? Could you see them?"

"Yes," she pushed her loose hair back from her brow, as if exhausted.

"Yes, I saw it like a picture, but like a clouded, indistinct picture.

The poor chap was fighting a wild beast! Oh, it was fearful!" she shut her eyes and shook her head violently. "That's the worst of it, I see too clearly."

"Tell us more, then," begged Shelby. "How did Peter look?"

"Glorious, transfigured! His face was shining and his eyes sparkling."

"H'm--queer to look like that when he was so worried."

"Oh, that was before the anxious look came. It is, I fear, difficult for you to understand the conditions. The discarnate spirit has a sort of secondary personality, not unlike a hypnotic state, and sometimes this is jarred by any untoward influence and develops into a delirium, and the statements cannot then be relied on. A novice always expects a clear, definite style of speech from a spirit communicating through a medium. This is not always the case. And the medium must merely take what comes and repeat it without change or addition. If, therefore, you are disappointed, I cannot help it. Surely you would not wish me to embroider the messages I receive."

"Surely not," returned Shelby, "indeed, I think it wonderful that you succeeded in getting as much coherence and information as you did. It is something to know that Peter was attacked by a wild beast, for, horrible as is the news, it does explain why he couldn't proceed on the journey."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Crane. "And I am so avid for word from my boy, that even if the messages are disturbing and harrowing, I want them all. I have always told Madame Parlato not to spare me. I prefer to know the worst. For my boy is happy now. We have had several sittings; my wife has attended some, and they are always comforting because of Peter's a.s.sertions that he is now happy and contented."

At Shelby's urgent request, the medium endeavored to induce Peter's spirit to return for a further word.

Her success was only partial, but they did hear a message to Shelby direct.

"Persevere, Kit," Peter said, "you're doing right in that matter. Go ahead, Kit."

"Your voice sounds queer, Peter," Shelby said, frowning a little. "It used to be pitched in a higher key."

"It's the medium," came a reply, and the pitch was higher. "I don't mean the human medium, but the medium through which I must talk--the ether, I suppose it is. Good-by, Kit."

Madame Parlato then came out of her trance, or whatever term she used to designate her half-conscious state.

"The session is over," she said, pleasantly. "I fear, Mr. Crane, you did not get your usual degree of satisfaction from it, but that was because of a third party here. I don't think Mr. Shelby's antagonistic exactly, but he's--well, uncertain whether to believe what he hears or not."

"That's quite true, Madame," said Shelby, with due respect, "but you are doubtless accustomed to people in my frame of mind."

"Oh, yes," and the lady smiled a little, "but I trust, Mr. Shelby, you will come some time by yourself and let me see what I can do to help you make up your mind."

"I shall be glad to do that. You have a strange power, at any rate."

"Strange, yes; but by no means unique. There are minds tuned by nature to receive spirit messages, as wireless stations are tuned. I cannot explain my strange power, I marvel at it myself, but I recognize it, and I use it humbly and gratefully as a G.o.d-given treasure."

"And that's what it is!" declared Benjamin Crane. "I'm glad you came to-night, Shelby, but, after this, I admit I prefer to come alone, or with only my wife. The messages from Peter to his father are naturally more of a loving and domestic nature, and I revel in them."

"I don't wonder at that, Mr. Crane. And I congratulate you on having found such a capable and skillful medium."

Madame Parlato gave Shelby a quick glance, almost as if doubting his sincerity. But his frank, honest face rea.s.sured her, and she said:

"And, I'm proud to say, I'm not only a medium, but I am possessed of the power that is called impersonation or transfiguration. This is comparatively rare, and it enables me to perform what really seem like miracles. I am taken possession of by the departed subject, and I speak and act so perfectly with that other personality that sometimes I even resemble the person who is talking through me."

"It is indeed wonderful," Shelby said, and Benjamin Crane looked happily contemplative of the _seances_ in the future when Madame would utilize this miraculous gift of hers in his behalf.

Shelby did go alone to see the medium, and it happened also that, about a week later, going again, he chanced to meet Mr. Crane there. The younger man offered to leave, but Crane said, "No, come along. Madame is going to try to-night to materialize Peter's face, and I want you here to see it."

And so the strange _seance_ began.

Materialization, of course, called for a darkened room, and Shelby's naturally suspicious mind was alert for possible fraud.

But he could discover no chance for such. There was no cabinet, no tambourine, bell or trumpet, and no curtain was drawn or screen set up.

After they had sat in darkness and silence for a time, a face seemed to form in mid-air. It was a misty, vague countenance, and was wrapped about with a soft, floating drapery or veil, which exposed only the features.

"Peter!" exclaimed Benjamin Crane in a half-gasping voice. "My boy himself!"

"Peter Boots!" cried Shelby, and slowly the face vanished.

Not another word was spoken, and in a moment the lights were turned on.

This was done by Madame Parlato, at whose elbow the light switch was.

"Did you see anything?" she asked, in an exhausted, hara.s.sed way, yet with an air of eagerness.

"Yes," cried out Crane. "I saw Peter, my own son!"

"I couldn't be sure," she went on, speaking wearily. "It always exhausts me utterly to induce a materialization, and I doubt if I can achieve anything more to-night."

"Nor do you need to," declared Mr. Crane. "That's enough for one _seance_. Some time you may do that again, and also get speech from him."

"May be," she rejoined, with a gentle politeness, "and now I should be glad to say good-night."

The two men walked off, Crane in a tumult of delight, Shelby wondering at it all.

"You accept marvels very easily, Mr. Crane," the latter said.

"Because they are marvels," said the older man simply. "If they were fraud it would be no marvel. But being genuine, it is a marvel, it is a miracle, and I am glad, rejoiced to accept it!"

It was soon after this that Shelby, calling on Carlotta Harper, asked her what she thought of it all.