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my home. Feel free to function as you choose. There are no responsibilities, no rules. 'Each to his own device' shall be the only standard here. May you find the answer that you seek. It is here, I promise you." There was a pause. "And now… auf Wiedersehen ."
    The needle made a scratching noise on the record. Barrett raised the needle arm and switched off the phonograph. The great hall was immensely still.
    " Auf Wiedersehen ." said Florence. " Until we meet again ."
    "Lionel-?"
    "The record wasn't meant for us," he said.
    "But-"
    "It was cut a good half-century ago," said Barrett. "Look at it." He held it up. "It's merely a coincidence that what he said seems applicable to us."
    "What made the phonograph go on by itself, then?" Florence asked.
    "That is a separate problem," Barrett said. "I'm only discussing the record now." He looked at Fischer. "Did it play by itself in 1940? The accounts say nothing of it."
    Fischer shook his head.
    "Do you know anything about the record?"
    It appeared that Fischer wasn't going to answer. Then he said, "Guests would arrive, to find him gone. That record would be played for them." He paused. "It was a game he played. While the guests were here, Belasco spied on them from hiding."
    Barrett nodded.
    "Then, again, maybe he was invisible," Fischer continued. "He claimed the power. Said that he could will the attention of a group of people to some particular object, and move among them unobserved."
    "I doubt that," Barrett said.
    "Do you?" Fischer's smile was strange as he looked at the phonograph. "We all had our attention on that a few moments ago," he said. "How do you know he didn't walk right by us while we were listening?"

12/21 – 12:46 P.M.
    They were moving up the staircase when an icy breeze passed over them, causing their candle flames to flicker. Edith's flame went out. "What was that?" she whispered.
    "A breeze," said Barrett instantly. He declined his candle to relight hers. "We'll discuss it later."
    Edith swallowed, glancing at Florence. Barrett took her by the arm, and they started up the stairs again. "There'll be many things like that during the week," he said. "You'll get used to them."
    Edith said no more. As she and Lionel ascended the stairs, Florence and Fischer exchanged a look.
    They reached the second floor and, turning to the right, started along the balcony corridor. On their right, the heavy balustrade continued. To their left, set periodically along a paneled wall, were bedroom doors. Barrett approached the first of these and opened it. He looked inside, then turned to Florence. "Would you like this one?" he asked.
    She stepped into the doorway. After several moments, she turned back to them. "Not too bad," she said. She smiled at Edith. "You'll rest more comfortably here."
    Barrett was about to comment, then relented. "Fine," he said. He gestured toward the room.
    He followed Edith inside and shut the door. Edith watched as he limped around the bedroom. To her left were a pair of carved walnut Renaissance beds, between them a small table with a lamp and a French-style telephone on it. A fireplace was centered on the opposite wall, in front of it a heavy walnut rocking chair. The teakwood floor was almost covered by a twenty-by-thirty-foot blue Persian rug, in the middle of which stood an octagonal-topped table with a matching chair upholstered in red leather.
    Barrett glanced into the bathroom, then returned to her. "About that breeze," he said. "I didn't want to get involved in a discussion with Miss Tanner. That's why I glossed over it."
    "It really happened, didn't it?"
    "Of course," he answered, smiling. "A manifestation of simple kinetics: unguided, unintelligent. No matter what Miss Tanner thinks. I should have mentioned that before we left."
    "Mentioned what?"
    "That you'll need to inure yourself to what she'll be saying in the next week. She's a Spiritualist, as you know. Survival of and communication with the so-called disincarnate is the foundation