The party then sat down at the table, placed their hands upon it in such a way that the fingers of one person joined those of the persons sitting next, and thus formed a circle. All light was excluded.
For three minutes there was silence. No sound was heard; no light was seen. All was darkness and silence.
Then suddenly there was a faint voice—a child's voice. It sounded as though it came from the ceiling.
"I am come," wailed the voice.
"Yes, and I am come." This time the voice seemed to come from the direction of the window. It was hoarse, and coarse.
"Who are you?
"I am Jim Barkum. I was killed at Mons."
"Anything to tell us?"
"No; nothin' except I'm all right. I come fro' Sheffield. If you could tell my mother, Emily Barkum, that I'm very happy I'd be very thankful."
"What's your mother's address?"