This is the same darkness in which every night I sleep, with no sense of being surrounded by forms which I cannot see, pressed upon by the denizens of some other sphere, not that in which I breathe and live." He deliberately detached himself from his mood of keen expectation, and ardently resolved to anticipate nothing.

And at this moment the table began to shift along the carpet, to twist under their hands, to rap, to tremble, and to pulsate, as if breath had entered into it.

Like some live animal it stirred beneath their pressing fingers.
"It is beginning," Julian whispered.
"Animal magnetism," Valentine murmured.
"Yes, of course," Julian replied.

"Shall I ask--" "Hush!" Valentine interrupted.
Julian was silent.
For some time the table continued its stereotyped performances.

Then it tremblingly ceased, and stood, mere dead furniture of every day, wood on which lay the four hands made deliberately limp.