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There was a brief moment of silence. Then Mrs. Lambert said, “I suppose I am.”

“Of course you are,” answered Hyacinth. “And you’re quite right. There’s no need to delay. Let us begin.”

Yes, let’s, thought Maud. The sooner the séance began, the sooner she would get out of the map closet. The bright edge around the door panel disappeared. Judith had switched off the electric lights. Now she would light the candles in the chandelier.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Mrs. Lambert said hesitantly, “I should like Miss Victoria to take the planchette.”

There was a startled pause. Maud knew that Hyacinth, not Victoria, had planned to control the movement of the planchette.

“I have heard your sister is a very powerful medium,” Mrs. Lambert explained. “Forgive me, Hyacinth, but you and I have tried so many times —”

“Of course.” Maud heard the rustle of fabric; the women were sitting down. “Don’t look so downcast, Eleanor! I am not offended.” Hyacinth’s voice was tender. “Victoria, if you will —”

Evidently Victoria complied. More rustling, the creak of a chair, and then silence. Maud knew that Victoria and Mrs. Lambert were sitting very still, gazing at the planchette. She envisioned them: Victoria facing the mantel, Judith by the window, and Hyacinth closest to the door. During the time when we wait for the planchette to move, you mustn’t budge, Hyacinth had warned her. She’ll be alert for the slightest sound. You must be absolutely still.

Maud tried to obey. Another drop of sweat crawled down her back. She could smell herself — a musky, sweetish smell, like a sweating horse. She wrinkled her nose fastidiously.

Rap!

Maud heard a gasp, and then Judith’s voice: “Is there a spirit present?”

Rap!

Mrs. Lambert cried out. “Caroline?”

There was a pause. Maud listened for the tinkle of the prisms of the chandelier. She heard Mrs. Lambert repeat, “Caroline?”

“The chandelier’s moving,” said Hyacinth in a low voice. “The candles are going out.”

“The planchette!” Mrs. Lambert sounded as if she were about to cry. “The planchette is moving — but I can’t read! It’s too dark!”

“Caroline Lambert!” Judith’s voice rang out authoritatively. “Caroline Lambert, are you here?”

Rap!

“Caroline, please —” Mrs. Lambert’s voice was infinitely pleading. “Please — if you are here, speak to me! Don’t leave — oh, don’t —” Her breath caught. “I can’t read in the dark! Oh, God! My dear one, wait, only wait —”

“Light another candle,” Judith commanded, and Maud heard a chair scrape back.

“It began with an L, I think,” Victoria said breathlessly. “Perhaps she means to spell out love —”

“Do you think so?” Mrs. Lambert said. Her voice rose hysterically. “Do you think it could possibly be?”

Maud heard the scritch of a match, followed by the thud of a candlestick on the table. “Now,” whispered Mrs. Lambert. “Caroline, come back!”

Silence. Maud waited. People don’t believe when things happen too fast, Hyacinth had said. Maud understood that to give Mrs. Lambert only a taste of her daughter’s presence was excellent technique: it increased the rich woman’s faith in Hyacinth and fed her longing for her child. What Maud hadn’t understood was that the technique was harrowing. She could hear the woman sobbing, and she felt a prickle of discomfort that had nothing to do with the heat of the cupboard. Maud knew what it felt like to cry that hard, so that every muscle seemed to jerk and her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed.

“Caroline,” begged Mrs. Lambert, “are you there? Please!”

“The planchette is moving,” Victoria assured her. “L-O-”

“Ssssh,” Hyacinth cautioned her sister. Maud caught the resentment in her hiss. It wasn’t part of Hyacinth’s plan that Caroline should spell out love. Victoria was improvising.

There was another loud rap!

“The table —” Judith gasped. “The table —”

The table was rising into the air, and Maud knew how. Judith had wedged one foot under the lion-claw legs and was hoisting it up, steadying it with her palms. There was a loud clomp