“All set?” asked Rupert. “Very well.” He paused impressively; then, addressing no one in particular, he called out, “Is there anybody there?” George could feel the plate beneath his fingers tremble slightly. That was not surprising, considering the pressure being exerted upon it by the six people in the circle. It slithered around in a small figure-eight, then came to rest back at the centre.
“Is there anybody there?” repeated Rupert. In a more conversational tone of voice he added, “It’s often ten or fifteen minutes before we get started. But sometimes—”
“Hush!” breathed Jean.
The plate was moving. It began to swing in a wide arc between the cards labelled
“YES” and “NO”. With some difficulty, George suppressed a giggle. Just what would it prove, he wondered, if the answer was “NO"? He remembered the old joke: “There’s nobody here but us chickens, Massa.. ”
But the answer was “YES”. The plate came swiftly back to the centre of the table. Somehow it now seemed alive, waiting fir the next question. Despite himself, George began to be impressed.
“Who are you?” asked Rupert.
There was no hesitation now as the letters were spelled out. The plate darted across the table like a sentient thing, moving so swiftly that George sometimes found it hard to keep his fingers in contact. He could swear that he was not contributing to its motion. Glancing quickly round the table, he could see nothing suspicious in the faces of his friends. They seemed as intent, and as expectant, as he himself.
“IAMALL” spelled the plate, and returned to its point of equilibrium.
“’I am all,” repeated Rupert. “That’s a typical reply. Evasive, yet stimulating. It probably means that there’s nothing here except our combined minds.” He paused for a moment, obviously deciding upon his next question. Then he addressed the air once more.