Mickey and Inez worked over Mrs. Saylor. Diavolo unlocked the door to the kitchen and found a jar of ice water in the refrigerator. He brought glasses of it for both Mrs. Saylor and the Count. His mind, as he did so, was working rapidly. Don knew that, in spite of the expert manner in which the man had been tied, it had been the Count and the Count alone who had produced the green light and the chalked inscription. The Count hadn’t ever escaped those bonds, and, though the chalked words were high up behind him a good twenty feet away, it was he, and not a spirit force, that had made them. Don had seen another medium do the same thing before. Draco recovered rapidly now, coming out of the “trance” in a jerky automatic fashion, breathing heavily. “Were we successful in establishing contact?” he asked. “Did you witness any manifestation?” “Mrs. Saylor appears to have seen rather too much,” Diavolo said. “Perhaps it would be better if she—” “No. No. I won’t!” Mrs.
