Apparently Miss Hinkle had not heard my protest. The thing was going around faster than ever and she was reading the message silently, with her brow corrugated, and the light of the huntress in her pale blue eyes.
“Why, she says it's you, Mr. Hallock. What does she mean? Ouija, won't you tell us who is talking?”
I groaned, but that inexorable board continued to spell. I always did hate a spelling match! Miss Hinkle was again following it aloud:
“'H-e-l-e-n.' Helen!” She raised her voice until it could be heard at the other end of the room. “Lavinia, dear, do you know anyone by the name of Helen?”
“By the name of——? I can't hear you.” And my wife made her way over to us between the Book Club's chairs.
“You know the funniest thing has happened,” she whispered excitedly. “Someone had been trying to communicate with John through Mrs. Hunt's and Mrs. Sprinkle's Ouija! Someone by the name of Helen——”
“Why, isn't that curious!”
“What is?”
Miss Hinkle simpered.
“Someone giving the name of Helen has just been calling for your husband here.”