Morton interrupted. "Did you know that the lid was closed?"
"Yes, I laid my hand on it while the keys were drummed."
"Where was Miss Lambert?"
"Apparently at my left, sleeping. It didn't really matter where she was, for the lid was down. When the lights were turned on she was in deep trance—apparently. That one fact of the closed piano being played in that way remains inexplicable."
"Was that all?" cried Kate, in a most disappointed way.
"Oh no. There were marvels to raise your hair, but that was all that I really valued."
Morton answered quickly. "It was enough, if properly conditioned. The theory is—I've been reading up on it—that these spook brethren of ours attack their doubters in different ways. Knowing you to be a man of materialistic and rather methodical habit of mind, the powers essayed a material test. Perhaps it was a mouse?"
"Or the cat?" suggested Kate.
"They must have been musical and of exceptional intelligence, then," put in Britt, "for they played up and down on the key-board at my request, and kept time to 'Yankee Doodle.'"
Kate exulted. "What do you think of that, Morton? If one is true, then all may be true."