It did not ensure any such thing, Adam knew. But the others, with the probable exception of Caroline, seemed to accept that having all hands in view at all times was a guarantee against duplicity.

The rappings began immediately, faint pings and a loud thump that caused Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent to gasp.

The sounds came from a variety of locations around the room, including the corners and beneath the table.

"What is it?" Mrs. Trent asked in an awed voice.

"Do not be alarmed," Irene said. "It is only my spirit guide letting us know that he is present. His name is Sennefer. He was once a priest in ancient Egypt. He possesses a vast store of secret, arcane knowledge. I am his medium. Through me he will communicate with you as it pleases him. But first I must go into a trance."

She began to tremble violently, very much as she had at the spirit writing demonstration. She jerked and twitched.

Her head twisted back and forth with sharp movements.

Adam watched her hands closely. They remained firmly planted on the cloth-covered surface. Utterly motionless.

The table suddenly shuddered and rose a few inches off the floor.

"Astonishing," Gilbert Smith whispered.

"Good heavens, it is floating in midair." Some of Miss Brick's enthusiasm had turned to anxiety.

"All hands must remain on the top of the table," Irene barked in a deeper, more resonant tone that presumably emanated from Sennefer.

Adam quickly counted hands. All were still clearly in view, including Irenes.

The table descended back to the floor. Irene Toller's fingers were all still in precisely the same position they had been in a moment ago, Adam noticed.

"Look," shrieked Mrs. Trent. "There is something up there."

Adam followed her shocked, wondering gaze toward the ceiling directly above the table. He could just barely make out a silvery, pale, faintly glowing shape floating in the darkness above their heads. It drifted about in a ghostly fashion and then vanished.

"Dear heaven, what is that?" Miss Brick whispered.

A corpse-pale hand had risen up beside the table next to Irene Toller. As they watched, it reached out and gently tapped Miss Brick on the shoulder. She gave a startled little screech.

"Do not be afraid," Irene said firmly. "The spirit means you no harm"

Miss Brick sat very still, her eyes huge in the shadows. The deathly white hand descended back out of sight beneath the table.

"It touched me" Miss Brick sounded awed. "The manifestation actually touched me."

Before anyone else could react, another series of raps and pings ensued. It was followed by the faint tinkle of chimes.

"Sennefer says that was the manifestation of a spirit who wishes to communicate with some sitters at this table." Irene broke off, squeezing her eyes shut. Her face contorted. And then her eyes popped open very wide in a disconcerting stare. "It wishes to send a message to Mrs. Trent and to Miss Brick."

Mrs. Trent was clearly unnerved. "I don't understand." "Who is it?" Miss Brick asked, equally uneasy. The chimes clashed.

"This message is from…" Irene spoke haltingly, in little bursts of words, as though she was attempting to interpret some sort of otherworldly telegraphy. "A friend. Yes, it is the spirit of a friend who made her transition sometime in the past year or so."

Mrs. Trent stiffened. "Oh, heavens, is it Mrs. Selby?" Miss Brick stiffened and peered around the room. "Is that you, Helen?"

There was another series of raps and chimes.

"Helen Selby sends you both her regards," Irene said. More pings and clicks.

"She says that she can offer you some useful advice concerning your finances."

"That would be wonderful," Mrs. Trent said, enthusiastic once more.

"What is it you want to tell us?" Miss Brick asked of the room at large.

Taps, raps and bells sounded.

"You will encounter a gentleman in the near future," Irene intoned. "He will offer you an investment opportunity. If you accept, you will become very rich within the year."

"What is the name of this gentleman?" Mrs. Trent demanded, dazed and excited.

A rapid series of raps ensued.

"I cannot say," Irene declared in her forceful voice. "But you will recognize him because he will tell you that he was once acquainted with Helen Selby. When you identify yourselves as two of her old friends, he will invite you to take advantage of the investment opportunity."

"Helen, we do not know how to thank you," Miss Brick whispered.

Gilbert Smith peered around eagerly. "I say, would there be any objection to my participating in the investment, Mrs. Selby? My name is Gilbert Smith. I realize we were never acquainted while you were alive, but we do seem to have met now, as it were"

A violent clashing of chimes and raps interrupted him. The noise stopped suddenly.

Irene fixed Gilbert Smith with her grim, staring gaze. "Helen Selby's spirit is angered by your greed, Mr. Smith. She says that you will not be contacted."

"I see," Smith muttered. "Well, it was worth a try."

An eerie squeak that sounded to Adam suspiciously like a poorly oiled door hinge echoed from the corner of the room. All heads turned in that direction.

At that moment Adam felt the table once again elevate a few inches into the air. It trembled and then lowered itself back down to the floor. There was a series of quick taps followed by a ripple of the chimes.

"Another spirit wishes to communicate with someone at this table," Irene said. "This one has a message for Mrs. Fordyce."

Adam was aware of Caroline going still beside him. "Who is the spirit?" she asked quietly.

Tiny raps and pings sounded.

"It is not very clear." Irene gave every appearance of concentrating fiercely.

More faint rappings.

"A man, I believe," Irene said hesitantly. "A gentle-man… ah, yes, now I have it. It is the spirit of your late husband."

Caroline sat frozen in her chair.

Rage swept through Adam. The silly game had gone on long enough, he thought. How dare the fraud torment Caroline with so-called messages from her dead husband? He would put an end to this nonsense immediately.

"No, please," Caroline whispered, evidently having guessed his intent. "It is all right. I do not mind. In fact, I am eager to hear what my dear Jeremy has to say. His death was so sudden. We did not have an opportunity to say farewell."

Adam hesitated. His instinct was to take her away from this place at once, but he sensed that she would not come with him willingly. This was her decision, he reminded himself. If she insisted on staying here, he had no choice but to remain with her. She was an intelligent woman. Surely she understood that Irene Toller was playing a distinctly unpleasant parlor game.

On the other hand, grief for a beloved spouse lost to an untimely death could make even the most sensible, level-headed person easy prey for a charlatan such as Toller.

Damnation, he fumed. He had no one to blame but him-self for what was happening. If he had not dragged Caroline into this affair, she would not be here tonight.

After another series of clicks, pings and chimes reverberated through the room, Irene looked across the table at Caroline.

"Your Jeremy says to tell you that he loves you and that he is waiting for you on the Other Side with open arms. Someday you will be together again and know at last the happiness that was denied you when he was taken away"

"I see," Caroline said in an odd voice.

A bell sounded.

Irene shuddered. Her hands trembled on the table. "The spirit says that he is unable to communicate anymore to-night. He will try again in the near future." She stiffened and then writhed again in her chair. "It is over. The spirits have departed. Please leave at once. I am exhausted."

She collapsed forward, facedown on her motionless hands.

The door opened, revealing the housekeeper standing in the hall.

"The séance is over," Bess announced. "You must all leave now so that Mrs. Toller can recover."

FIFTEEN

The carriage rolled back toward Corley Lane through fog-bound streets. The interior of the vehicle was drenched in shadows because Adam had not lit the lamps. He told him-self that Caroline would appreciate a degree of privacy after what must have been a nerve-shattering experience.

His temper still smoldered. He looked at Caroline, trying to think what to say. She sat there across from him, a warm shawl draped around her shoulders, her face averted. She seemed lost in her memories.

Part of him wanted to offer sympathy but another part longed to remind her that she must not give credence to anything that had happened at the séance. On the other hand, what if the possibility that her lost husband had spoken to her from beyond the grave had provided her with some comfort? Who was he to rip that from her?

He could have strangled Irene Toller with no remorse whatsoever, he decided. How could the woman live with herself? It was one thing to stage a séance as entertainment or even as a cynical means of defrauding the foolish and the gullible. Business was business, after all. No one knew that better than he did. But to deliberately open the flood-gates of a woman's grief was intolerable.

Adam vowed to himself that before this affair was finished, he would see to it that Irene Toller was exposed as the charlatan she was.

"I regret that you were forced to endure that sad experience," he said eventually.