His excitement, to all but Bartol, was ludicrously high, and Mrs. Joyce openly chuckled. "What else do you want done, Mr. Science?"
"Writing independent of Mrs. Ollnee," replied Bartol.
After a long and painful silence the bell tinkled faintly, and as all listened breathlessly the zither began to play.
"Now who is doing that?" asked the engineer.
"Turn on the green light!" suggested the Voice.
Stinchfield lit the green lamp, and by its glow the psychic was seen in her cage reclining limply, her face ghostly white in the light. Bartol looked about the circle. Every hand was in view, and yet the zither continued to play its weird and wistful little tune. Leo and Mrs. Joyce took this as a matter of course, but the men sat in rigid amazement.
"Lights out!" whispered the Voice.
Stinchfield put out his lamp. "That is astounding," he said. "I cannot analyze that."
"Will you swear the psychic did not do it?" asked the Voice.
The engineer hesitated. "Yes," he finally said.