CHAPTER XIX.
HELENE EXPLAINS And what she heard made her blood run cold.
Mme Dauvray spoke in a hushed, awestruck voice.
"There is a presence in the room." It was horrible to Celia that the poor woman was speaking the jargon which she herself had taught to her.
"I will speak to it," said Mme.

Dauvray, and raising her voice a little, she asked: "Who are you that come to us from the spirit-world ?" No answer came, but all the while Celia knew that Wethermill was stealing noiselessly across the floor towards that voice which spoke this professional patter with so simple a solemnity.
"Answer!" she said.

And the next moment she uttered a little shrill cry--a cry of enthusiasm.

"Fingers touch my forehead--now they touch my cheek--now they touch my throat!" And upon that the voice ceased.

But a dry, choking sound was heard, and a horrible scuffling and tapping of feet upon the polished floor, a sound most dreadful.