and pencil had gone from it, and looked up
Mr. Vincent was looking at him with a strange expression.
At first he thought he might have interrupted, and wondered with dismay whether this were so. But there was no sign of anger in those eyes—nothing but a curious and kindly interest.
“Nothing happened?” he exclaimed hastily. “You have written nothing?”
He looked at the ladies.
Lady Laura too was looking at him with the same strange interest as the medium. Mrs. Stapleton, he noticed, was just folding up, in an unobtrusive manner, several sheets of paper that he had not noticed before.
He felt a little stiff, and moved as if to stand up; but, to his astonishment, the big man was up in an instant, laying his hands on his shoulders.
“Just sit still quietly for a few minutes,” said the kindly voice. “Just sit still.”
“Why—why—” began Laurie, bewildered.
“Yes, just sit still quietly,” went on the voice; “you feel a little tired.”
“Just a little,” said Laurie. “But—”
“Yes, yes; just sit still. No; don’t speak.”
Then a silence fell again.
Laurie began to wonder what this was all about. Certainly he felt tired, yet strangely elated. But he felt no inclination to move; and sat back, passive, looking at his own hands on his knees. But he was disappointed that nothing had happened.