died, he swore to; but over here, he did not. He tried to help, instead, the who lived to suffer."
Beside Lucas Cullen, his son's wife sat facing forward, assuming calmness, trying not to notice the panic palsy of the old man; Bennet for a while had attempted the same indifference; but now he abandoned it and, reaching across his mother, he seized his grandfather's arm.
"You're sick," he said. "Come out with me."
"It's queer, he thinks," continued the Voice, "how all your life you wondered about him—how long he suffered and didn't think about the other at all; the other who didn't send the torch. He lived, so he suffered all the time. His wife—the others, he means; and his child; the girl. Grew up too, she did; had a son; and you—"
"Come!" Bennet commanded, almost loudly. He arose and Jaccard arose, too; the word or the disturbance stopped the Voice; and, as they began getting Lucas Cullen on his feet, Barney arose and stepped down the line of chairs.
It was all contrary to his directions; but he knew that what now was occurring had not been foreseen. He realized that this commotion might end the trance; but as the Cullens determined to escape, he determined that they should not. He thrust Jaccard away from Lucas Cullen and, opposing Bennet, he pushed Lucas Cullen back into his seat.
"You're going to stay this out!"
Lucas gaped up at him. "You here?"
Barney caught his breath and glanced toward the medium who was sitting silent in the big chair. "They have been asking," he said distinctly, "for communi-
