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 'sitting' one evening at their house when I was with them for dinner, and it occurred to me, if there's anything in this rot, why not try to find out about myself. So I sat with them and asked them to inquire about my mother and father. I'd not told any one of them—even Hus, then—anything except that I had no parents; and I received in reply the foolest sort of tosh. 'There is some one here who is loved by another—a mother—very distant, he continued, imitating another's voice. There is a dark-eyed, fatherly man who also loves him. They do not know where he is.'

"Well, Miss Carew," he ceased to imitate. "It was worse than gipsy fortune-telling or palm-reading. But having got me to try, the Adleys wouldn't leave me alone till I'd tried other mediums, and if variety in my life was what I wanted, they gave it to me.

"I'd supposed that my mother probably was dead; and if there was anything at all in these séances which so many important people believed in, I thought I could at least find out whether she really was living or dead. But when I asked one medium, I'd be told she was living; the next would say she was dead. About my father likewise. Rot or nothing. Then I returned to duty and forgot all about it at the front till I was laid up in London again for a few weeks ending last October. Hus Adley, who'd finally lost an arm and was permanently on duty in London, had gone quite over to the civilian enthusiasms, and he dragged me around to sittings in a private house on Cavendish Square. You know London, Miss Carew?"

"I know Cavendish Square," Ethel said.

"It's of no great importance except, you see, the