The Ghost Makers

A man stated that he recognized initials which Anita Marie was giving, and the medium concentrated her speech upon him. So long as the man agreed with facts she told him, Anita Marie spoke with assurance. When he mildly informed her that some of her statements were incorrect, she adopted a browbeating attitude.

"The spirits do not lie!" she cried. "Don't try to argue with me. I am right and you are wrong! You are trying to disturb the messages."

With that, she indignantly broke into a new line of chatter that wound up with a message for a more susceptible person. A young girl answered all of the medium's questionings in a breathless tone. Pumping her for information, Anita Marie managed to deliver some facts that seemed startling to the girl who received them. A buzz of approval rose from the faithful present.

To Cardona, it was a mass of drivel. He wondered what any one could see in this pure bunkum, and he shook his head as he eyed the faces of eager persons who seemed to admire the medium's self-proclaimed talent.

He caught a glimpse of the solemn-faced man in the corner. He noticed that the stern visage was immobile.

An hour passed, and the dull proceedings continued. The medium was working on the faithful — old customers whom she had impressed before. Her overruling tactics beat down the mild objections that arose occasionally.

Cardona was becoming weary. This affair promised none of the spectacular proceedings that had occurred in the strange seance held by Professor Jacques, in New York.

But then, Cardona remembered, the professor had charged fifteen dollars to each entrant in his circle. He was a worker of a more cunning sort, Cardona decided.

It was after nine o'clock when the seance began to take on a more lively aspect. Anita Marie was holding discussion with a middle-aged lady whose attire marked her as a wealthy woman. From the medium's coaxing, honeyed tones, it was evident that this woman was a frequent visitor to the psychic circle.

"Yes, yes!" she was agreeing to every statement that Anita Marie uttered. "This is wonderful! Please tell me more!"

Now the medium gazed triumphantly around the circle, with a look that was intended to wither skeptics who were present. Seeing that the majority of the persons were believers, Anita Marie decided to press her advantage.

"I'm agoin' to put myself under the control of a spirit," she asserted, in rapid, slurred tones. "With so many good people here to-night, I have been doin' my best for all. But this lady, here, is anxious for more advice. She has troubles, this lady has. I can see it. That's right, lady, isn't it?" The woman nodded.

"You see?" said the medium, turning her head. "The spirits are tellin' me that, because they know this lady wants to know. So I'm agoin' to help this lady. I can see that her troubles are in this world, not in the spirit plane. That's right, lady, isn't it?"

Another nod from the lady was the response.

"Have you been here before, lady?"

The woman nodded.

"Did I ever ask you your name, lady?"

"No," was the reply.

"Did anybody tell you to come here to-night?"

"No."

"You see, I don't know you, then. But I can hear the spirits atellin' me. They say the name Maude."

"That is my name!" exclaimed the woman.

"That's all they are asayin' to me," resumed Anita Marie glibly, "but when I go into a trance, they can talk to me better. Would some of you gentlemen kindly oblige by turning out the lights at the side of the room? There. That's good!"

The room was in semidarkness, but the medium was visible in the gloom. She began to roll her head and make grimaces to indicate a spirit control.

Her voice muttered incoherently. It took on a high unnatural pitch that was startling at first to Cardona The raspy voice became squeaky.

"Hello, good people!" came a falsetto tone. "Good, good people to be here to-night. Good people. Good lady to want to hear what Little Flower say. You listen, good lady. Little Flower speak. She tell what she hear, Little Flower do!"

Joe Cardona had not learned, in his investigation of the Harvey murder, that a spirit called Little Flower had been presumably speaking through the lips of Professor Raoul Jacques.

The name that came gurgling from the throat of Anita Marie formed no connecting link to the New York seance in the detective's mind.

But the name of Little Flower brought another thought to Cardona's brain. The strange disk that had started him to Philadelphia had come to him in a bunch of violets.

The reason was plain now. Little Flower! A violet was a little flower!

Eagerly, the detective listened. The medium was babbling on once more.