"All right."
"What are you going to do for us to-night? Can you raise the table?"
"I'll try," he whispered again.
"Are there other 'spirits' here?"
"Yes; many."
"Can't 'they' write their names on the pad?"
There was a moment's silence, and then the sound of writing began in the middle of the table. When this had finished, I said, "Did you succeed?"
Again the cone rose, and another whisper, a fainter voice, answered: "Yes, but the writing is very miserable."
The rest of the sitters were silent with amazement till Miller said, in a tone of disgust: "That is of no value. It is so easy for Howard, or some one else, to break the circle and write or speak through the cone."
"Yes, we'll have to trust one another for to-night," I admitted.