"Please be quiet. I am trying to listen to Mrs. Toller."

On stage, Irene was giving every sign that she was entering a trance. Eyes closed, she swayed slightly in her chair.

"Hark, you ethereal beings who exist beyond the veil that shrouds this mortal world," Irene intoned. "We would learn from you. We seek your guidance and knowledge."

Expectation vibrated across the audience. Caroline could tell that most of those present were only too happy to suspend logic here in this room. They wanted to believe that Irene Toller could communicate with the spirit world.

"A willing audience is always easy to convince," Adam observed softly.

Irene began to make a low, keening sound that sent a shiver through Caroline. The medium jerked several times, shoulders twisting.

The audience was riveted.

Irene's moaning halted suddenly. She stiffened, head snapping back, and then she straightened, somehow appearing taller and more imposing in the chair.

She opened her eyes and stared at the audience with an unnerving gaze.

"The spirits are here," she announced in a hoarse, fear-some voice that was different from the one she had used earlier. "They drift all around us in this room, invisible to the ordinary senses. They await your questions. Speak."

Caroline heard several gasps and low-voiced exclamations.

A man rose a trifle uncertainly from the first row of seats. "Beg your pardon, Mrs. Toller. But I wanted to ask the spirits what it's like over there on the Other Side"

There was a moment of utter stillness. And then, seemingly of its own accord, the planchette began to move beneath Irene's fingers.

Caroline sensed that everyone, with the glaring exception of Adam Hardesty, was holding his or her breath. The audience watched, fascinated, as the pencil fitted into the planchette glided across the paper.

After a moment the automatic writing device ceased moving. Irene looked somewhat haggard from the effort. She rolled the planchette aside, picked up the sheet of pa-per and displayed it to the audience. The glare of the lamp revealed a scrawled message.

"This is a realm filled with light and harmony," Irene read aloud. "It cannot be fully envisioned by those who are still trapped in the mortal plane"

Murmurs of appreciation and wonder rippled across the room.

"I have no talent for the writing of fiction," Adam whispered to Caroline, "but I vow that even I could craft such a script."

"If you cannot refrain from making comments on the demonstration, perhaps you would be so good as to sit in another section of the room, sir," Caroline snapped softly. "I am trying to observe Mrs. Toller. I do not appreciate the distraction."

"Surely you are not taking any of this seriously." She pretended she had not heard that.

Another person rose to ask a question, a middle-aged woman this time. She wore deep mourning. A black net weeping veil concealed her features.

"Is the spirit of my husband, George, here?" she inquired, voice quavering. "If so, I want to ask him where he hid the stock shares. He'll know the ones I mean. I've searched everywhere and I cannot find them. I must sell them. I am desperate. Indeed, I am in danger of losing the house."

Everyone looked toward the stage.

Irene placed her fingertips on the planchette. There was another moment of stillness. Caroline expected the medium to announce that the departed George was not present. But to her astonishment, the planchette began to move beneath Irene's fingertips, slowly at first and then with increasing speed.

The planchette stopped abruptly. With an air of exhaustion, Irene picked up the paper.

"Behind the mirror above the fireplace," she read aloud.

"I am saved," the middle-aged woman cried out. "How can I thank you, Mrs. Toller? You have my most sincere gratitude."

"You must thank the spirit of your husband, madam," Irene said. "I am merely the medium through which he communicated the information."

"Thank you, George, wherever you are" The woman bustled out of the row of chairs and hurried toward the exit. "Please excuse me. I must find those shares immediately."

She dashed straight past Caroline, leaving a trace of lavender scent in the air, and disappeared around the curtain that blocked the light from the door.

"Now that was interesting," Adam said.

Excitement bubbled in the darkened lecture room. An-other man shot to his feet.

"If you please, Mrs. Toller, I have a question," he called loudly. "If the spirit of Elizabeth Delmont is nearby, ask her to tell us who murdered her."

There was a startled silence.

At the front of the room Irene flinched violently. Her mouth opened and then closed very quickly.

For the first time, Adam gave his full and undivided attention to the stage. He leaned forward, resting his fore-arms on his thighs, and watched Mrs. Toller closely.

"I expect that she will claim that Mrs. Delmont's spirit isn't present," Caroline murmured to Adam.

"I'm not so certain of that," Adam replied. "Look. The planchette is moving."

Caroline stared, astonished. Beneath Mrs. Toller's fingers, the device drifted this way and that, drawing the tip of the pencil across a fresh sheet of paper.

Irene groaned. A visible shudder passed across her shoulders. She gave every appearance of struggling valiantly to keep herself erect in her chair.

When the planchette finally halted, no one moved.

Irene eased the device aside and picked up the paper. She gazed at the scrawled writing for a long time. Tension gripped the room.

Irene read the message in her new, raspy voice. "Elizabeth Delmont was a fraud. She angered the spirits with her false claims and tricks. The invisible hand of retribution reached out from beyond the grave to silence her."

As if the final effort had been too much for her, Irene collapsed facedown on the table. Before anyone could move, the single lamp flared violently and then went out. The lecture hall was enveloped in thick darkness.

Someone shrieked. A hubbub ensued.

"Please remain calm. All is well. This, often happens when Mrs. Toller finishes her demonstration. Séances ex-act a great toll on the medium's nerves. I will have the lamp on in a minute"

Caroline recognized the voice of the small man who had introduced Irene Toller.

The lights came up slowly, illuminating the stage. Irene Toller and her planchette had disappeared.

"Enough of these theatrics." Adam took a firm grip on Caroline's arm and urged her to her feet. "Browning had the right of it in his piece `Mr. Sludge, the Medium. Anyone who claims to be able to summon spirits is a fraud."

"I would remind you, sir, that Mr. Browning's wife was very impressed by a séance conducted by the famous Mr. D. D. Home. Rumor has it that she was convinced that Home not only contacted the spirit world but that he actually caused manifestations to appear."

"With all due respect to the incomparable Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I am certain that she was tricked by Home" Adam steered her toward the door. "But I will admit that she was in excellent company. In his prime, Home managed to make fools of any number of people."

To his great satisfaction, Caroline did not resist his effort to get her out of the lecture hall. But he had miscalculated badly in one regard, he discovered. The gently rounded shape and the enticing, resilient feel of her arm through the fabric of her sleeve proved unexpectedly distracting. He had to struggle against a sudden urge to tighten his hold and pull her closer. This was the first time he had actually touched her. He could not suppress the flicker of excitement that crackled through him.

She was warm and vivid in a tightly laced green gown trimmed with white at the neck and sleeves. The short train of the dress was gracefully hooked up to enable her to walk without sweeping the floor with the hem. The design ex-posed the toes of dainty shoes the same color as the gown. A large, delightfully frivolous green and gold velvet bow decorated the rear of the dress where the skirts had been drawn up and back into a small pouf. Her hair was twisted into an elegant coil. A tiny flower-trimmed hat was perched at a rakish angle over one eye.