"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 assertions 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."