The reportorial instinct awoke in her. "I wish I might see those photographs—to reassure myself, not for publication. May I see them?"
He did not observe that her desire for his pardon seemed suddenly to be met, even though he had not yet put it in words, and his mind was wholly on the question of the photographic tests as he slowly replied:
"They are very marvelous—especially those which came on the unexposed plates."
Her eyes widened in wonder. "What do you mean?"
"Mr. Stinchfield had several packages of plates opened ready to use in his cameras, but The Voices only let him make one flashlight. It seems as if they knew the experiment would end my mother's life, and yet on each of the unexposed plates are faces and forms, some of which Mr. Bartol 'recognized.'"
"Let me see them—please!" she pleaded, earnestly. "They will comfort me, too, for I am under conviction."
He took from his pocket a package of small photographs. "Here," he said, "are the three flashlights of my grandfather, Nelson Blodgett."
The young woman almost snatched them in her eager haste. "Oh, wonderful! What a document! The medium plainly in her cage—and this figure on the same plate."
"It is the most convincing picture in existence," he said, sadly, "but it cost me my mother."
She fixed a dreamy gaze upon him. "If this is a spirit—then your mother can return to you. Has she done so?"