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, harassed 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 séance. Some time you may do that again, and also get speech from him."