chine or the typewriter—and become a New Woman. I am most anxious to resume the life prematurely cut short in 1770, in my eighteenth year, when I died from what was erroneously diagnosed as a quinsy. I have reason to believe that, had I been properly treated for diphtheria with an antitoxin serum, I should have lived to a good old age."
"What is there to prevent you from doing so now?" asked Woodworth, touched and interested immeasurably by his singular client.
"Because my master—for so I must call him—Mr. Shockton, who brought me from the other world, is determined to send me back. I hear that, from mercenary motives, he means to dematerialize me at his very next séance."
Woodworth hurriedly thought of all known legal processes, but neither habeas corpus, ne exeat, nor any other writ with which he was familiar seemed a remedy against the peculiar form of extradition proposed by Shockton.
Putting on his hat, he exclaimed: "You sit right there while I interview this tyrant, Miss?"
"Amy Alright was my name before," she answered sweetly.
Finding the spiritual manager in his improvised office at the hotel, the lawyer addressed him by name, saying: "I warn you to desist from your persecution of my client, Miss Amy Alright. She is perfectly satisfied with 'this mundane sphere,' as the reporters call it, and intends to remain here. I shall take steps to enjoin you from making her the subject of further experiment."
"Take a ticket," was Shockton's cordial response, thrusting out a card. "One dollar, please; 7:30 this evening. We are going to dematerialize the chit this very night, and if it doesn't come off, call me all the liars you like. Next!"
"One moment, Mr. Shockton," and Woodworth severely. "I understand you to say that you intend to dematerialize, which I suppose means to disembody—to cause to disappear—"
"Into thin air—evaporate—vamose!" answered the medium, in a businesslike tone.
"Cause to disappear a person now living? That, my dear sir, is murder!"
"Wrong!" replied Shockton. "Who is this girl? Where does she hail from? She has been dead one hundred and forty-six years. Can't kill a person twice, you know. What good is she, anyhow? She's way behind the times—can't even sell a ticket to her own dematerialization."
"Then you are determined to dematerialize the lady again?" demanded Woodworth, somewhat demoralized.
"Sure; come and see for yourself. Take a ticket, and one for your wife."
"I shall certainly come—with the police. You insist on making this preposterous experiment?"
"Fact. But tell you what I'll do. You may take the young woman—lock her up—do anything you like with her, and I'll bet you a cool hundred I'll dematerialize her all the same."
Woodworth clutched at this proposition—he began to see a way out. The Psychical Research Society was hastily summoned in special session, and Amy Alright was introduced to President Barker and the members.
