“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Cindy’s father scoffed. “How can you not know?”

“I don’t remember. What did I say this time?” She glanced around the table, meeting everyone’s eye with a silent plea.

Finally, Cybil said, “You told me where my uncle’s will is hidden.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Elizabeth said. “How could I know a thing like that? I don’t know you and I certainly don’t know your uncle.”

“You can’t know him now, either, because he’s dead, but he spoke through you and told me where it’s hidden.”

“Even if I did, how could whatever I told you be right?”

“That’s true,” Cindy’s father said with a bit too much satisfaction. “She could have just made something up.”

Cybil was undeterred. “Shall we vow to meet in a few days, after I’ve searched for the will again, and I can tell you if she was correct or not?”

Plainly, everyone wanted to do that very thing, if their hopeful expressions were any indication. Even Cindy’s doubting father looked eager. Elizabeth shrugged helplessly. “Why would you even believe me?”

“I don’t suppose I can, not really, but I’ve been here twice before, asking that same question,” Cybil said, “and this is the first time anyone tried to answer it. It’s easy enough to check, too. I’ll go to my uncle’s house tomorrow and find out.”

“When shall we meet again, then?” Tilly asked.

“Sunday?” Cybil asked.

“We can’t hold a séance on a Sunday,” Andy’s mother declared, as if that were some well-known rule. Elizabeth wondered exactly what objection the woman could have. Did she consider a séance too pagan to conduct on the Sabbath? And if so, why was it acceptable to hold on another day? But there was no use trying to apply logic to this, as she well knew.

“I have a previous engagement on Monday evening,” Cybil said. “I can join you on Tuesday evening, however.”

After a few minutes of discussion, they set the date and time. Madame summoned Persephone and she began to escort everyone out. Before Elizabeth could rise, Tilly laid her hand on Elizabeth’s arm to stop her.

“Did you really mean what you said about me?”

Elizabeth frowned. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what I said about you. I hope it wasn’t hurtful.”

“Not at all,” Tilly said with another of her smug smiles. “You said—”

“Tilly,” her mother said sharply. “We must go.”

Tilly waved away her mother’s concern with a flip of her hand, her gaze never leaving Elizabeth’s face. “You said I could take care of my mother.”

“Then it must be true, mustn’t it? The spirits don’t lie,” Elizabeth lied.