A convulsive restlessness again seized upon the psychic, and "Maudie" asked us to sing. I hummed softly, in order to hear anything that might take place. A minute clicking sound at once developed, as though some one were lightly beating the cone with a key. These clicks answered our questions. It was "Wilbur" once more. I asked him if he were going to be able to speak to us, and he tapped "Yes." Soon after this the cone was swung into the air and "Wilbur's" throaty whisper was heard. I asked him if the psychic could not be awake and speak while he was present, and he answered: "Yes; we have planned that."
Even as he spoke Mrs. Smiley passed into what seemed like a struggle for breath and awoke!
"Are you with us, Mrs. Smiley?" asked Fowler.
"Yes. What time is it?"
"About half-past eight. How do you feel?"
"Very numb and cold," she answered, plaintively.
"I don't wonder at that," I remarked. "You've been sitting there for five hours."
"Is anybody present?" she asked, anxiously.
I knew what she meant, and answered: "Yes, 'Wilbur' is here—or was a few moments ago. Are you still with us, 'Wilbur'?"