“Now,” she said, “put only the tips of your fingers upon the edges of the planchette. You all understand the procedure? If we are able to make contact, the discarnate will spell out its answers to our questions, using the alphabet cards. Do not resist the movement of the planchette. And let me ask the questions.”

She sat down behind Tony, holding a pencil and a pad of paper. His shadow hid all of her except her hands. They looked like the claws of a scavenger bird as they clutched the writing implements with feverish intensity. I wondered what sick desire had driven Miss Burton to spiritualism. The best psychic investigators approach the subject in a spirit of genuine inquiry and endeavor to maintain scientific controls. Not Miss Burton; the bony, clawlike hands betrayed her. The room had an “aura,” all right—not the psychic residue of past centuries, but the projected emotions of the living. The flickering candlelight left people’s bodies in darkness, casting ugly shadows on faces that seemed to hover disembodied in air.

The room grew very silent. A rustle of the draperies, at a sudden breath of wind, made us all jump. Gradually the stillness spread again. I found myself staring dreamily at the bright shape of the candle flame. It took some effort to wrench my eyes away; the whole business was a perfect example of hypnotic technique, and it was damnably effective. The silence was not the absence of sound; it was a positive force that seemed to grow and strengthen. Silence, concentration, and a single point of moving light in darkness…. Yes, very effective. It was hard to keep my mind critical and controlled.

A prickle ran down my back. The planchette had moved.

I lifted my hands until my fingertips barely brushed the planchette. So far as I could determine, the others had done the same. I could have sworn no one in the circle was exerting enough pressure on the planchette to move it.

It moved again. Rocking unsteadily, it shifted toward the side of the circle.

Miss Burton’s voice was hoarse with excitement.

“Is there a spirit present?”

At opposite sides of the circle of alphabet cards were two cards bearing the words “yes” and “no.” The planchette sidled across the table and nudged the “yes” card.

Someone gave a little gasp.

“Quiet!” hissed Miss Burton. “Do you wish to communicate with someone here?”

The planchette edged coyly away, and then, with a swoop, again pushed the “yes” card.

“What is your name?”

The diabolical little wooden triangle teetered out into the center of the table. It hesitated. Then it moved purposefully around the alphabet cards.

“K-O-N——”