“Never.”
“Or between the seances?”
Elinor rose and drew her veil down. “We must go,” she said. “Surely now you will cease these terrible investigations. I cannot stand much more. I am going mad.”
“There will be no more seances,” Sperry said gravely.
“What are you going to do?” She turned to me, I daresay because I represented what to her was her supreme dread, the law.
“My dear girl,” I said, “we are not going to do anything. The Neighborhood Club has been doing a little amateur research work, which is now over. That is all.”
Sperry took them away in his car, but he turned on the door-step, “Wait downstairs for me,” he said, “I am coming back.”
I remained in the library until he returned, uneasily pacing the floor.
For where were we, after all? We had had the medium’s story elaborated and confirmed, but the fact remained that, step by step, through her unknown “control” the Neighborhood Club had followed a tragedy from its beginning, or almost its beginning, to its end.
Was everything on which I had built my life to go? Its philosophy, its science, even its theology, before the revelations of a young woman who knew hardly the rudiments of the very things she was destroying?