"I think, then, you may go ahead and tell me your plans that you wish me to carry out."
"I've revised them,'" Peter said, thoughtfully, "they may, as I now see it, call for more than one séance. But here's for a starter. When do you expect Mr. Crane again?"
"To-morrow."
"All right. Merely give him a further materialization. And let the object be this,"—he laid a small paper parcel before her, which he had taken from his pocket,—"yes,—and this," and he produced a second parcel.
She opened the papers, and found the first to be a handkerchief, the duplicate of the one already "materialized" and bearing the monogram Carly had so painstakingly embroidered.
The other parcel contained a silver quarter of a dollar, one side of which had been smoothed off and engraved with the entwined letters P. C.
"These belonged to the son?" Madame exclaimed, excitedly. "Where did you get them?"
"From the son," replied Louis Bartram; "but remember you are under oath of secrecy. You are merely to produce these things as materializations at your next session with Mr. Crane, and also,—I want to be present,—unseen. Can it be managed?"
"Of course, that's easy enough."
Further arrangements were made, terms were agreed on, and Louis Bartram went away from the house of the medium in New York and returned to his hotel in Brooklyn.