Time crept by. Margaret's arms began to feel rather numb, and still the board did nothing but tremble slightly with the involuntary muscular twitches of all their hands. She became aware of a sound, and listening intently, identified it as somewhat stertorous breathing. She tried to see the faces of her companions, and at that moment Mrs. Bosanquet herself spoke: "My dears!" she said impressively, "I do believe Charles was right, and he's gone into a trance. His hands are no longer on the board, and he is breathing just like a medium did whom I once visited. Charles! Can you hear me?"
A slight, but unmistakable snore answered her. "Kick him, Celia!" said Peter. "The blighter's gone to sleep."
Celia promptly shook her husband, who grunted, yawned, and sat up. "Charles, you're not to go to sleep! It's too bad of you!" she scolded.
"Asleep?" said Charles. "Did I seem to you to be asleep?"
"You did," said Peter grimly. "Snoring like a pig."
"Nonsense," Charles replied. "And I warned you what might happen! You've gone and roused me out of what might have proved to be a valuable trance."
Mrs. Bosanquet said worriedly: "We shall never get any results like this!"
"It's all right, Aunt Lilian," Celia reassured her. "I'll see he stays awake."
"Well, I do trust there will be no more interruptions," Mrs. Bosanquet sighed.
Under her breath Celia said: "It isn't fair to tease her, Chas. Do behave decently!"