"Did the medium look at the music?" asked Miller.
"Yes, now and then. However, most of the corrections were put in upside down, as regards her position, and during the last sitting she appeared to be no more than a mere on-looker. Once as we sat holding the slate 'Ernest' whispered to me: 'Blake is a fine fellow. I met him twice.'"
"'Can you tell me where?' asked Blake.
"'It was in New York City,' was the reply; then, after a moment's hesitation: 'It was at dinner—both times!' 'You are right,' said Blake, much impressed. 'Can you tell me the places?' 'Once was on Fifth Avenue. The other was—I can't tell the location exactly; but it was where we went down a short flight of steps.' 'That is correct also,' said Blake. 'How many persons were there?' 'Five.' 'Quite right. Can you tell me who they were?' 'Well, Mary was there, and you, of course; but I can't be sure of the others.'
"Blake looked at me in astonishment, and our minds flashed along the same line. Suppose the whisper were only a bit of clever ventriloquism, how did the psychic secure the information conveyed in this dialogue? It was given as I write it, with only a bit of hesitation once or twice; and yet, it may have been merely thought transference."
"Merely thought transference!" exclaimed Miller. "I consider thought transference quite as absurd as slate-writing."
Fowler interposed. "I consider this a simple case of spirit communication. You should be grateful for such a beautiful response."
"This significant fact is not to be overlooked," I resumed: "the psychic secured almost nothing else that concerned either Blake's affairs or my own. Mainly the whispers had to do with 'E. A.,' which, of course, bears out Miller's notion that the psychic could deal only with what was public property, and yet this little colloquy about the dinners in New York is very convincing so far as mind-reading goes.
"During the third sitting, Blake again being present, 'E. A.' took control, as before, from the start, and carried forward the recording of the musical fragment. 'I want you to fill in the treble, Blake,' he said. 'It's nothing but the bare melody now.' Blake protested: 'I'm not up to this.' And the whisper came swiftly, 'You're too modest, Blake'; and a moment later it said: 'I hope you're not bored, Garland.' If all this was a little play of the psychic's devising it was very clever, for after a few minutes of close attention to Blake, 'E. A.' turned toward me and asked, with anxious haste: 'Where's Garland?' 'I am here,' I answered. 'Don't go away,' he entreated. It was as if for the moment he had lost sight of me by reason of fixing his attention upon Blake."