The Birmingham age-herald., 1923-03-04
"The whole

MT. Cray glanced across at his male visa-avis. Major Hartopp sighed slightly ,. and shook his head with warning glance toward the figure at his side, and Mir. Cray, understanding his gesture to mean that his wife was to be humored, relapsed into silence. The car turned southward, passed down Sloane Street and plunged into the purieus of Chelsea, finally pulling up at what was apparently pleasant, little frequented thoroughfare.
 
 "You must come in and have whisky and soda,'' the young soldier insisted hos pitably.
 Mr. Cray shook his head
 q guess it's too late," he replied. "Be- sides, I'm just as we'll without any more."
 His new acquaintance, however, would take no refusal, and eventually they all descended from the car and passed through a cheerful little hall into a small morning room, where bright fire was burning in the grate. The Spirit came no farther than the threshold of the room. She stood look ing at Mr. Cray with strange and mournful intensity.
 Good night" she said. "You have been very kind to me-
 "Say, won't you take off that mask for a moment before you go?" MT. Cray begged. "Id like to be able to recognize you when we meet again."
 She shook her head very slightly.
 Her husband drowned across at her in good-natured annoyance.
 Look here, Mina," he protested, "why don't you do as MT. Cray asks? I'm pretty sick of the damned thing myself"
 q cannot" she answered simply. q have promised"
 "Rubbishw her husband answered tes- tily. "There isn't anyone to promise"
 "Good-by, MT. Cray" she said.
 Good evening" Mrs. Hartopp," he re- piled, with bow. "Pd like it first-rate if you and your husband could fix it up to take dinner with me at the Milan some night.
 "You are very kind," she murmured and drifted away.
 Major Hartopp drew a little breath of undsguised relief at the closing of the door. He pulled up easy-chair to the fire and almost pushed his guest into it. Then he mixed him a whisky and soda of generous proportions, served himself also with liberality, and sank down upon couch opposite to his guest.
 "Mr. Cray," he confided, q feel. that l owe you explanation
 "I wouldn't go so far as that,' his visa-a- wis replied, "but I must admit that your wife puzzled me some.'
 -''Do you know anything about spiritual ism?" Major Hartopp asked.
 "Not thing,'' MT. Cray acknowledged.
 Neither do I, but it seems that my wife, before I married her, was medium"
 "Holds converse with spirits, and that sort of thing?" MT. Cray ventured dubi- ously.
 Worse" his companion groaned.
 Spirits actually take possession of her, enter into her body, speak with her tongue, crush out her own personality and obtrude their own."
 "You don't sayv' MT. Cray murmured.
 Tt seems that she has a personality or spirituality which very few human beings in the world possess" his companion went on. "Here, they tell me, is one of the few bodies in the world accessible to the sym- pathetic dead. They seem to have a taste for revelry, too. One of them always weighs Tn if we are going to dance or anything of that sort. Christine Saboa turned up at o'clock this evening, just as we were settling down to dinner; complete ly spoiled the whole pleasure of the dance for me- I hate spooks."
 MT. Cray studied Major Hartopp for sev- eral moments with half-closed eyes. He was to all appearance the perfect phototype of well-bred, simple minded, moderately intel