‘Who speaks?’ he murmured under breath. ‘Alma! Do you know me?’
Was it possible? Doubtless lbs phantasy deceived him, but he seemed once more to hear the very tones of her he loved.
‘Do not move!’ continued the voice. ‘Perhaps this is a last meeting for a long time, for I am called away. It is your Alma’s spirit that speaks to you; her body lies dead at Rome.’
A wild cry burst from Bradley’s lips, and he sank back in his chair, paralysed and overpowered.
‘It is a cheat!’ he gasped. ‘It is no spirit that is speaking to me, but a living woman.’
And he clutched in the direction of the voice, but touched only the empty air.
‘If you break the conditions, I must depart!’ cried the voice faintly, as if from a distant part of the room.
‘Shall I break up the séance?’ asked the Professor.
‘No!’ cried Bradley, again joining his hands with those of his neighbours to complete the circle. ‘Go on! go on!’
‘Are our dear friends still present?’ demanded the Professor.