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«Very clear,» said Mailey.
«Some have the wrong mate here. Some have no mate, which is more fortunate. But all will sooner or later get the right mate. That is certain. Do not think that you will not necessarily have your present husband when you pass over.»
«Gawd be praised! Gawd be thanked!» cried a voice.
«No. Mrs. Melder, it is love – real love – which unites us here. He goes his way. You go yours. You are on separate planes, perhaps. Some day you will each find your own, when your youth has come back as it will over here.»
«You speak of love. Do you mean sexual love?» asked Mailey.
«Where are we gettin' to?» murmured Mrs. Bolsover.
«Children are not born here. That is only on the earth plane. It was this aspect of marriage to which the great Teacher referred when he said: 'There will be neither marriage nor giving in marriage'. No! It is purer, deeper, more wonderful, a unity of souls, a complete merging of interests and knowledge without a loss of individuality. The nearest you ever get to it is the first high passion, too beautiful for physical expression when two high-souled lovers meet upon your plane. They find lower expression afterwards, but they will always in their hearts know that the first delicate, exquisite soul-union was the more lovely. So it is with us. Any question?»
«If a woman loves two men equally, what then?» asked Malone.
«It seldom happens. She nearly always knows which is really nearest to her. If she really did so, then it would be a proof that neither was the real affinity, for he is bound to stand high above all. Of course, if she . . .»
The voice trailed off and the trumpet fell.
«Sing 'Angels are hoverin' around'!» cried Bolsover. «Smiley, hit that old harmonium. The vibrations are at zero.»
Another bout of music, another silence, and then a most dismal voice. Never had Enid heard so sad a voice. It was like clods on a coffin. At first it was a deep mutter. Then it was a prayer – a Latin prayer apparently – for twice the word Domine sounded and once the word peccavimus. There was an indescribable air of depression and desolation in the room. «For God's sake what is it?» cried Malone.
The circle was equally puzzled.
«Some poor chap out of the lower spheres, I think,» said Bolsover. «Orthodox folk say we should avoid them. I say we should hurry up and help them.»
«Right, Bolsover!» said Mailey, with hearty approval. «Get on with it, quick!»
«Can we do anything for you, friend?»
There was silence.
«He doesn't know. He doesn't understand the conditions. Where is Luke? He'll know what to do.»
«What is it, friend?» asked the pleasant voice of the guide.
«There is some poor fellow here. We want to help him.»
«Ah! yes, yes, he has come from the outer darkness,» said Luke in a sympathetic voice. «He doesn't know. He doesn't understand. They come over here with a fixed idea, and when they find the real thing is quite different from anything they have been taught by the Churches, they are helpless. Some adapt themselves and they go on. Others don't, and they just wander on unchanging, like this man. He was a cleric, and a very narrow, bigoted one. This is the growth of his own mental seed sown upon earth – sown in ignorance and reaped in misery.»
«What is amiss with him?»
«He does not know he is dead. He walks in the mist. It is all an evil dream to him. He has been years so. To him it seems an eternity.»
«Why do you not tell him – instruct him?»
«We cannot. We – «
The trumpet crashed.
«Music, Smiley, music! Now the vibrations should be better.»
«The higher spirits cannot reach earth-bound folk,» said Mailey. «They are in very different zones of vibration. It is we who are near them and can help them.»
«Yes, you! you!» cried the voice of Luke.
«Mr. Mailey, speak to him. You know him!» The low mutter had broken out again in the same weary monotone.
«Friend, I would have a word with you,» said Mailey in a firm, loud voice. The mutter ceased and one felt that the invisible presence was straining its attention. « Friend, we are sorry at your condition. You have passed on. You see us and you wonder why we do not see you. You are in the other world. But you do not know it, because it is not as you expected. You have not been received as you imagined. It is because you imagined wrong. Understand that all is well, and that God is good, and that all happiness is awaiting you if you will but raise your mind and pray for help, and above all think less of your own condition and more of those other poor souls who are round you.»
There was a silence and Luke spoke again.
«He has heard you. He wants to thank you. He has some glimmer now of his condition. It will grow within him. He wants to know if he may come again.»
«Yes! yes!» cried Bolsover. «We have quite a number who report progress from time to time. God bless you, friend. Come as often as you can.» The mutter had ceased and there seemed to be a new feeling of peace in the air. The high voice of Wee One was heard.
«Plenty power still left. Red Cloud here. Show what he can do, if Daddy likes.»
«Red Cloud is our Indian control. He is usually busy when any purely physical phenomena have to be done. You there, Red Cloud?"»
Three loud thuds, like a hammer on wood, sounded from the darkness.
«Good evening, Red Cloud!»
A new voice, slow, staccato, laboured, sounded above them.
«Good day, Chief! How the squaw? How the papooses? Strange faces in wigwam to-night.»
«Seeking knowledge, Red Cloud. Can you show what you can do?»
«I try. Wait a little. Do all I can.»
Again there was a long hush of expectancy. Then the novices were faced once more with the miraculous.
There came a dull glow in the darkness. It was apparently a wisp of luminous vapour. It whisked across from one side to the other and then circled in the air. By degrees it condensed into a circular disc of radiance about the size of a bull's-eye lantern. It cast no reflection round it and was simply a clean-cut circle in the gloom. Once it approached Enid's face and Malone saw it clearly from the side.
«Why, there is a hand holding it!» he cried, with sudden suspicion.
«Yes, there is a materialized hand,» said Mailey. «I can see it clearly.»
«Would you like it to touch you» Mr. Malone?»
«Yes, if it will.»
The light vanished and an instant afterwards Malone felt pressure upon his own hand. He turned it palm upwards and clearly felt three fingers laid across it, smooth, warm fingers of adult size. He closed his own fingers and the hand seemed to melt away in his grasp.
«It has gone!» he gasped.
«Yes! Red Cloud is not very good at materializations. Perhaps we don't give him the proper sort of power. But his lights are excellent.»
Several more had broken out. They were of different types, slow-moving clouds and little dancing sparks like glow-worms. At the same time both visitors were conscious of a cold wind which blew upon their faces. It was no delusion, for Enid felt her hair stream across her forehead.
«You fed the rushing wind,» said Mailey. «Some of these lights would pass for tongues of fire, would they not? Pentecost does not seem such a very remote or impossible thing, does it?»
The tambourine had risen in the air, and the dot of luminous paint showed that it was circling round. Presently it descended and touched their heads each in turn. Then with a jingle it quivered down upon the table.
«Why a tambourine? It seems always to be a tambourine,» remarked Malone.
«It is a convenient little instrument,» Mailey explained.
«The only one which shows automatically by its noise where it is flying. I don't know what other I could suggest except a musical-box.»
«Our box here flies round somethin' amazin' « said Mrs. Bolsover. «It thinks nothing of winding itself up in the air as it flies. It's a heavy box too.»
«Nine pounds,» said Bolsover. «Well, we seem to have got to the end of things. I don't think we shall get much more to-night. It has not been a bad sitting – what I should call a fair average sitting. We must wait a little before we turn on the light. Well, Mr. Malone, what do you think of it? Let's have any objections now before we part. That's the worst of you inquirers, you know. You often bottle things up in your own minds and let them loose afterwards, when it would have been easy to settle it at the time. Very nice and polite to our faces, and then we are a gang of swindlers in the report.»
Malone's head was throbbing and he passed his hand over his heated brow.
«I am confused,» he said, «but impressed. Oh, yes, certainly impressed. I've read of these things, but it is very different when you see them. What weighs most with me is the obvious sincerity and sanity of all you people. No one could doubt that.»
«Come. We're gettin' on.» said Bolsover.
«I try to think the objections which would be raised by others who were not present. I'll have to answer them. First, there is the oddity of it all. It is so different to our preconceptions of spirit people.»
«We must fit our theories to the facts,» said Mailey. «Up to now we have fitted the facts to our theories. You must remember that we have been dealing to-night – with all respect to our dear good hosts – with a simple, primitive, earthly type of spirit, who has his very definite uses, but is not to be taken as an average type. You might as well take the stevedore whom you see on the quay as being a representative Englishman.»
«There's Luke» said Bolsover.
«Ah, yes, he is, of course, very much higher. You heard him and could judge. What else, Mr. Malone?»
«Well, the darkness! Everything done in darkness. Why should all mediumship be associated with gloom?»
«You mean all physical mediumship. That is the only branch of the subject which needs darkness. It is purely chemical, like the darkness of the photographic room. It preserves the delicate physical substance which, drawn from the human body, is the basis of these phenomena. A cabinet is used for the purpose of condensing this same vaporous substance and helping it to solidify. Am I clear?»
«Yes, but it is a pity all the same. It gives a horrible air of deceit to the whole business.»
«We get it now and again in the light, Mr. Malone,» said Bolsover. «I don't know if Wee One is gone yet. Wait a bit! Where are the matches?» He lit the candle, which set them all blinking after their long darkness, «Now let us see what we can do.»
There was a round wood platter or circle of wood lying among the miscellaneous objects littered over the table to serve as playthings for the strange forces. Bolsover stared at it. They all stared at it. They had risen but no one was within three feet of it.
«Please, Wee One, please!» cried Mrs. Bolsover. Malone could hardly believe his eyes. The disc began to move. It quivered and then rattled upon the table, exactly as the lid of a boiling pot might do.
«Up with it, Wee One!» They were all clapping their hands.
The circle of wood, in the full light of the candle, rose upon edge and stood there shaking, as if trying to keep its balance.
«Give three tilts, Wee One.»
The disc inclined forward three times. Then it fell flat and remained so.
«I am so glad you have seen that,» said Mailey. «There is Telekenesis in its simplest and most decisive form.»
«I could not have believed it!» cried Enid.
«Nor I,» said Malone. «I have extended my knowledge of what is possible. Mr. Bolsover, you have enlarged my views.»
«Good, Mr. Malone!»
«As to the power at the back of these things I am still ignorant. As to the thing themselves I have now and henceforward not the slightest doubt in the world. I know that they are true. I wish you all good night. It is not likely that Miss Challenger or I will ever forget the evening that we have spent under your roof»
It was like another world when they came out into the frosty air, and saw the taxis bearing back the pleasure-seekers from the theatre or cinema palace. Mailey stood beside them while they waited for a cab.
«I know exactly how you feel,» he said, smiling. «You look at all these bustling, complacent people, and you marvel to think how little they know of the possibilities of life. Don't you want to stop them? Don't you want to tell them? And yet they would only think you a liar or a lunatic. Funny situation, is it not?»
«I've lost all my bearings for the moment.»
«They will come back to-morrow morning. It is curious how fleeting these impressions are. You will persuade yourselves that you have been dreaming. Well, good-bye – and let me know if I can help your studies in the future.» The friends – one could hardly yet call them lovers
– were absorbed in thought during their drive home. When he reached Victoria Gardens Malone escorted Enid to the door of the flat, but he did not go in with her. Somehow the jeers of Challenger which usually rather woke sympathy within him would now get upon his nerves. As it was he heard his greeting in the hall.
«Well, Enid. Where's your spook? Spill him out of the bag on the floor and let us have a look at him.» His evening's adventure ended as it had begun, with a bellow of laughter which pursued him down the lift.
5. Where Our Commissioners Have a Remarkable Experience
«Some have the wrong mate here. Some have no mate, which is more fortunate. But all will sooner or later get the right mate. That is certain. Do not think that you will not necessarily have your present husband when you pass over.»
«Gawd be praised! Gawd be thanked!» cried a voice.
«No. Mrs. Melder, it is love – real love – which unites us here. He goes his way. You go yours. You are on separate planes, perhaps. Some day you will each find your own, when your youth has come back as it will over here.»
«You speak of love. Do you mean sexual love?» asked Mailey.
«Where are we gettin' to?» murmured Mrs. Bolsover.
«Children are not born here. That is only on the earth plane. It was this aspect of marriage to which the great Teacher referred when he said: 'There will be neither marriage nor giving in marriage'. No! It is purer, deeper, more wonderful, a unity of souls, a complete merging of interests and knowledge without a loss of individuality. The nearest you ever get to it is the first high passion, too beautiful for physical expression when two high-souled lovers meet upon your plane. They find lower expression afterwards, but they will always in their hearts know that the first delicate, exquisite soul-union was the more lovely. So it is with us. Any question?»
«If a woman loves two men equally, what then?» asked Malone.
«It seldom happens. She nearly always knows which is really nearest to her. If she really did so, then it would be a proof that neither was the real affinity, for he is bound to stand high above all. Of course, if she . . .»
The voice trailed off and the trumpet fell.
«Sing 'Angels are hoverin' around'!» cried Bolsover. «Smiley, hit that old harmonium. The vibrations are at zero.»
Another bout of music, another silence, and then a most dismal voice. Never had Enid heard so sad a voice. It was like clods on a coffin. At first it was a deep mutter. Then it was a prayer – a Latin prayer apparently – for twice the word Domine sounded and once the word peccavimus. There was an indescribable air of depression and desolation in the room. «For God's sake what is it?» cried Malone.
The circle was equally puzzled.
«Some poor chap out of the lower spheres, I think,» said Bolsover. «Orthodox folk say we should avoid them. I say we should hurry up and help them.»
«Right, Bolsover!» said Mailey, with hearty approval. «Get on with it, quick!»
«Can we do anything for you, friend?»
There was silence.
«He doesn't know. He doesn't understand the conditions. Where is Luke? He'll know what to do.»
«What is it, friend?» asked the pleasant voice of the guide.
«There is some poor fellow here. We want to help him.»
«Ah! yes, yes, he has come from the outer darkness,» said Luke in a sympathetic voice. «He doesn't know. He doesn't understand. They come over here with a fixed idea, and when they find the real thing is quite different from anything they have been taught by the Churches, they are helpless. Some adapt themselves and they go on. Others don't, and they just wander on unchanging, like this man. He was a cleric, and a very narrow, bigoted one. This is the growth of his own mental seed sown upon earth – sown in ignorance and reaped in misery.»
«What is amiss with him?»
«He does not know he is dead. He walks in the mist. It is all an evil dream to him. He has been years so. To him it seems an eternity.»
«Why do you not tell him – instruct him?»
«We cannot. We – «
The trumpet crashed.
«Music, Smiley, music! Now the vibrations should be better.»
«The higher spirits cannot reach earth-bound folk,» said Mailey. «They are in very different zones of vibration. It is we who are near them and can help them.»
«Yes, you! you!» cried the voice of Luke.
«Mr. Mailey, speak to him. You know him!» The low mutter had broken out again in the same weary monotone.
«Friend, I would have a word with you,» said Mailey in a firm, loud voice. The mutter ceased and one felt that the invisible presence was straining its attention. « Friend, we are sorry at your condition. You have passed on. You see us and you wonder why we do not see you. You are in the other world. But you do not know it, because it is not as you expected. You have not been received as you imagined. It is because you imagined wrong. Understand that all is well, and that God is good, and that all happiness is awaiting you if you will but raise your mind and pray for help, and above all think less of your own condition and more of those other poor souls who are round you.»
There was a silence and Luke spoke again.
«He has heard you. He wants to thank you. He has some glimmer now of his condition. It will grow within him. He wants to know if he may come again.»
«Yes! yes!» cried Bolsover. «We have quite a number who report progress from time to time. God bless you, friend. Come as often as you can.» The mutter had ceased and there seemed to be a new feeling of peace in the air. The high voice of Wee One was heard.
«Plenty power still left. Red Cloud here. Show what he can do, if Daddy likes.»
«Red Cloud is our Indian control. He is usually busy when any purely physical phenomena have to be done. You there, Red Cloud?"»
Three loud thuds, like a hammer on wood, sounded from the darkness.
«Good evening, Red Cloud!»
A new voice, slow, staccato, laboured, sounded above them.
«Good day, Chief! How the squaw? How the papooses? Strange faces in wigwam to-night.»
«Seeking knowledge, Red Cloud. Can you show what you can do?»
«I try. Wait a little. Do all I can.»
Again there was a long hush of expectancy. Then the novices were faced once more with the miraculous.
There came a dull glow in the darkness. It was apparently a wisp of luminous vapour. It whisked across from one side to the other and then circled in the air. By degrees it condensed into a circular disc of radiance about the size of a bull's-eye lantern. It cast no reflection round it and was simply a clean-cut circle in the gloom. Once it approached Enid's face and Malone saw it clearly from the side.
«Why, there is a hand holding it!» he cried, with sudden suspicion.
«Yes, there is a materialized hand,» said Mailey. «I can see it clearly.»
«Would you like it to touch you» Mr. Malone?»
«Yes, if it will.»
The light vanished and an instant afterwards Malone felt pressure upon his own hand. He turned it palm upwards and clearly felt three fingers laid across it, smooth, warm fingers of adult size. He closed his own fingers and the hand seemed to melt away in his grasp.
«It has gone!» he gasped.
«Yes! Red Cloud is not very good at materializations. Perhaps we don't give him the proper sort of power. But his lights are excellent.»
Several more had broken out. They were of different types, slow-moving clouds and little dancing sparks like glow-worms. At the same time both visitors were conscious of a cold wind which blew upon their faces. It was no delusion, for Enid felt her hair stream across her forehead.
«You fed the rushing wind,» said Mailey. «Some of these lights would pass for tongues of fire, would they not? Pentecost does not seem such a very remote or impossible thing, does it?»
The tambourine had risen in the air, and the dot of luminous paint showed that it was circling round. Presently it descended and touched their heads each in turn. Then with a jingle it quivered down upon the table.
«Why a tambourine? It seems always to be a tambourine,» remarked Malone.
«It is a convenient little instrument,» Mailey explained.
«The only one which shows automatically by its noise where it is flying. I don't know what other I could suggest except a musical-box.»
«Our box here flies round somethin' amazin' « said Mrs. Bolsover. «It thinks nothing of winding itself up in the air as it flies. It's a heavy box too.»
«Nine pounds,» said Bolsover. «Well, we seem to have got to the end of things. I don't think we shall get much more to-night. It has not been a bad sitting – what I should call a fair average sitting. We must wait a little before we turn on the light. Well, Mr. Malone, what do you think of it? Let's have any objections now before we part. That's the worst of you inquirers, you know. You often bottle things up in your own minds and let them loose afterwards, when it would have been easy to settle it at the time. Very nice and polite to our faces, and then we are a gang of swindlers in the report.»
Malone's head was throbbing and he passed his hand over his heated brow.
«I am confused,» he said, «but impressed. Oh, yes, certainly impressed. I've read of these things, but it is very different when you see them. What weighs most with me is the obvious sincerity and sanity of all you people. No one could doubt that.»
«Come. We're gettin' on.» said Bolsover.
«I try to think the objections which would be raised by others who were not present. I'll have to answer them. First, there is the oddity of it all. It is so different to our preconceptions of spirit people.»
«We must fit our theories to the facts,» said Mailey. «Up to now we have fitted the facts to our theories. You must remember that we have been dealing to-night – with all respect to our dear good hosts – with a simple, primitive, earthly type of spirit, who has his very definite uses, but is not to be taken as an average type. You might as well take the stevedore whom you see on the quay as being a representative Englishman.»
«There's Luke» said Bolsover.
«Ah, yes, he is, of course, very much higher. You heard him and could judge. What else, Mr. Malone?»
«Well, the darkness! Everything done in darkness. Why should all mediumship be associated with gloom?»
«You mean all physical mediumship. That is the only branch of the subject which needs darkness. It is purely chemical, like the darkness of the photographic room. It preserves the delicate physical substance which, drawn from the human body, is the basis of these phenomena. A cabinet is used for the purpose of condensing this same vaporous substance and helping it to solidify. Am I clear?»
«Yes, but it is a pity all the same. It gives a horrible air of deceit to the whole business.»
«We get it now and again in the light, Mr. Malone,» said Bolsover. «I don't know if Wee One is gone yet. Wait a bit! Where are the matches?» He lit the candle, which set them all blinking after their long darkness, «Now let us see what we can do.»
There was a round wood platter or circle of wood lying among the miscellaneous objects littered over the table to serve as playthings for the strange forces. Bolsover stared at it. They all stared at it. They had risen but no one was within three feet of it.
«Please, Wee One, please!» cried Mrs. Bolsover. Malone could hardly believe his eyes. The disc began to move. It quivered and then rattled upon the table, exactly as the lid of a boiling pot might do.
«Up with it, Wee One!» They were all clapping their hands.
The circle of wood, in the full light of the candle, rose upon edge and stood there shaking, as if trying to keep its balance.
«Give three tilts, Wee One.»
The disc inclined forward three times. Then it fell flat and remained so.
«I am so glad you have seen that,» said Mailey. «There is Telekenesis in its simplest and most decisive form.»
«I could not have believed it!» cried Enid.
«Nor I,» said Malone. «I have extended my knowledge of what is possible. Mr. Bolsover, you have enlarged my views.»
«Good, Mr. Malone!»
«As to the power at the back of these things I am still ignorant. As to the thing themselves I have now and henceforward not the slightest doubt in the world. I know that they are true. I wish you all good night. It is not likely that Miss Challenger or I will ever forget the evening that we have spent under your roof»
It was like another world when they came out into the frosty air, and saw the taxis bearing back the pleasure-seekers from the theatre or cinema palace. Mailey stood beside them while they waited for a cab.
«I know exactly how you feel,» he said, smiling. «You look at all these bustling, complacent people, and you marvel to think how little they know of the possibilities of life. Don't you want to stop them? Don't you want to tell them? And yet they would only think you a liar or a lunatic. Funny situation, is it not?»
«I've lost all my bearings for the moment.»
«They will come back to-morrow morning. It is curious how fleeting these impressions are. You will persuade yourselves that you have been dreaming. Well, good-bye – and let me know if I can help your studies in the future.» The friends – one could hardly yet call them lovers
– were absorbed in thought during their drive home. When he reached Victoria Gardens Malone escorted Enid to the door of the flat, but he did not go in with her. Somehow the jeers of Challenger which usually rather woke sympathy within him would now get upon his nerves. As it was he heard his greeting in the hall.
«Well, Enid. Where's your spook? Spill him out of the bag on the floor and let us have a look at him.» His evening's adventure ended as it had begun, with a bellow of laughter which pursued him down the lift.
5. Where Our Commissioners Have a Remarkable Experience
MALONE sat at the side table of the smoking-room of the Literary Club. He had Enid's impressions of the seance before him – very subtle and observant they were – and he was endeavouring to merge them in his own experience. A group of men were smoking and chatting round the fire. This did not disturb the journalist, who found, as many do, that his brain and his pen worked best sometimes when they were stimulated by the knowledge that he was part of a busy world. Presently, however, somebody who observed his presence brought the talk round to psychic subjects, and then it was more difficult for him to remain aloof. He leaned back in his chair and listened.
Polter, the famous novelist, was there, a brilliant man with a subtle mind, which he used too often to avoid obvious truth and to defend some impossible position for the sake of the empty dialectic exercise. He was holding forth now to an admiring, but not entirely a subservient audience.
«Science,» said he, «is gradually sweeping the world clear of all these old cobwebs of superstition. The world was like some old, dusty attic, and the sun of science is bursting in, flooding it with light, while the dust settles gradually to the floor.»
«By science,» said someone maliciously, «you mean, of course, men like Sir William Crookes, Sir Oliver Lodge, Sir William Barrett, Lombroso, Richet, and so forth.»
Polter was not accustomed to be countered, and usually became rude.
«No, sir, I mean nothing so preposterous,» he answered, with a glare. «No name, however eminent, can claim to stand for science so long as he is a member of an insignificant minority of scientific men.»
«He is, then, a crank,» said Pollifex, the artist, who usually played jackal to Polter.
The objector, one Millworthy, a free-lance of journalism, was not to be so easily silenced.
«Then Galileo was a crank in his day,» said he. «And Harvey was a crank when he was laughed at over the circulation of the blood.»
«It's the circulation of the Daily Gazette which is at stake,» said Marrible, the humorist of the club. «If they get off their stunt I don't suppose they care a tinker's curse what is truth or what is not.»
«Why such things should be examined at all, except in a police court, I can't imagine,» said Polter. «It is a dispersal of energy, a misdirection of human thought into channels which lead nowhere. We have plenty of obvious, material things to examine. Let us get on with our job.»
Atkinson, the surgeon, was one of the circle, and had sat silently listening. Now he spoke.
«I think the learned bodies should find more time for the consideration of psychic matters.»
«Less,» said Polter.
«You can't have less than nothing. They ignore them altogether. Some time ago I had a series of cases of telepathic rapport which I wished to lay before the Royal Society. My colleague Wilson, the zoologist, also had a paper which he proposed to read. They went in together. His was accepted and mine rejected. The title of his paper was 'The Reproductive System of the Dung-Beetle'.»
There was a general laugh.
«Quite right, too,» said Polter. «The humble dung-beetle was at least a fact. All this psychic stuff is not.»
«No doubt you have good grounds for your views,» chirped the mischievous Millworthy, a mild youth with a velvety manner. «I have little time for solid reading, so I should like to ask you which of Dr. Crawford's three books you consider the best?»
«I never heard of the fellow.»
Millworthy simulated intense surprise.
«Good Heavens, man! Why, he is the authority. If you want pure laboratory experiments those are the books. You might as well lay down the law about zoology and confess that you had never heard of Darwin.»
«This is not science,» said Polter, emphatically.
«What is really not science,» said Atkinson, with some heat, «is the laying down of the law on matters which you have not studied. It is talk of that sort which has brought me to the edge of Spiritualism, when I compare this dogmatic ignorance with the earnest search for truth conducted by the great Spiritualists. Many of them took twenty years of work before they formed their conclusions.»
«But their conclusions are worthless because they are upholding a formed opinion.»
«But each of them fought a long fight before he formed that opinion. I know a few of them, and there is not one who did not take a lot of convincing.» Polter shrugged his shoulders.
«Well, they can have their spooks if it makes them happier so long as they let me keep my feet firm on the ground.»
«Or stuck in the mud,» said Atkinson.
«I would rather be in the mud with sane people thin in the air with lunatics,» said Polter. «I know some of these Spiritualists people and I believe that you can divide them equally into fools and rogues.»
Malone had listened with interest and then with a growing indignation. Now he suddenly took fire.
«Look here, Polter,» he said, turning his chair towards the company, «it is fools and dolts like you which are holding back the world's progress. You admit that you have read nothing of this, and I'll swear you have seen nothing. Yet you use the position and the name which you have won in other matters in order to discredit a number of people who, whatever they may be, are certainly very earnest and very thoughtful.»
«Oh,» said Polter, «I had no idea you had got so far. You don't dare to say so in your articles. You are a Spiritualist then. That rather discounts your views, does it not?»
«I am not a Spiritualist, but I am an honest inquirer, and that is more than you have ever been. You call them rogues and fools, but, little as I know, I am sure that some of them are men and women whose boots you are not worthy to clean.»
«Oh, come, Malone!» cried one or two voices, but the insulted Polter was on his feet. «It's men like you who empty this club,» he cried, as he swept out. «I shall certainly never come here again to be insulted.»
«I say, you've done it, Malone!»
«I felt inclined to help him out with a kick. Why should he ride roughshod over other people's feelings and beliefs? He has got on and most of us haven't, so he thinks it's a condescension to come among us.»
«Dear old Irishman!» said Atkinson, patting his shoulder. «Rest, perturbed spirit, rest! But I wanted to have a word with you. Indeed, I was waiting here because I did not want to interrupt you.»
«I've had interruptions enough!» cried Malone. «How could I work with that damned donkey braying in my ear?»
«Well, I've only a word to say. I've got a sitting with Linden, the famous medium of whom I spoke to you, at the Psychic College to-night. I have an extra ticket. Would you care to come?»
«Come? I should think so!»
«I have another ticket. I should have asked Polter if he had not been so offensive. Linden does not mind sceptics, but objects to scoffers. Who should I ask?»
«Let Miss Enid Challenger come. We work together, you know.»
«Why, of course I will. Will you let her know?»
«Certainly.»
«It's at seven o'clock to-night. The Psychic College. You know the place down at Holland Park.»
«Yes, I have the address. Very well, Miss Challenger and I will certainly be there.»
Behold the pair, then, upon a fresh psychic adventure. They picked Atkinson up at Wimpole Street, and then traversed that long, roaring rushing, driving belt of the great city which extends through Oxford Street and Bayswater to Notting Hill and the stately Victorian houses of Holland Park. It was at one of these that the taxi drew up, a large, imposing building, standing back a little from the road. A smart maid admitted them, and the subdued light of the tinted hall-lamp fell upon shining linoleum and polished woodwork with the gleam of white marble statuary in the corner. Enid's female perceptions told her of a well-run, well-appointed establishment, with a capable direction at the head. This direction took the shape of a kindly Scottish lady who met them in the hall and greeted Mr. Atkinson as an old friend. She was, in turn, introduced to the journalists as Mrs. Ogilvy. Malone had already heard how her husband and she had founded and run this remarkable institute, which is the centre of psychic experiment in London, at a very great cost, both in labour and in money, to themselves.
«Linden and his wife have gone up,» said Mrs. Ogilvy. «He seems to think that the conditions are favourable. The rest are in the drawing-room. Won't you join them for a few minutes?»
Quite a number of people had gathered for the seance, some of them old psychic students who were mildly interested, others, beginners who looked about them with rather startled eyes, wondering what was going to happen next. A tall man was standing near the door who turned and disclosed the tawny beard and open face of Algernon Mailey. He shook hands with the newcomers.
«Another experience, Mr. Malone? Well, I thought you gave a very fair account of the last. You are still a neophyte, but you are well within the gates of the temple. Are you alarmed, Miss Challenger?»
«I don't think I could be while you were around,» she answered.
He laughed.
«Of course, a materialization seance is a little different to any other – more impressive, in a way. You'll find it very instructive, Malone, as bearing upon psychic photography and other matters. By the way, you should try for a psychic picture. The famous Hope works upstairs.»
«I always thought that that at least was fraud.»
«On the contrary, I should say it was the best established of all phenomena, the one which leaves the most permanent proof. I've been a dozen times under every possible test conditions. The real trouble is, not that it lends itself to fraud, but that it lends itself to exploitation by that villainous journalism which cares only for a sensation. Do you know anyone here?»
«No, we don't.»
«The tall, handsome lady is the Duchess of Rossland. Then, there are Lord and Lady Montnoir, the middle-aged couple near the fire. Real, good folk and among the very few of the aristocracy who have shown earnestness and moral courage in this matter. The talkative lady is Miss Badley, who lives for seances, a jaded Society woman in search of new sensations – always visible, always audible, and always empty. I don't know the two men. I heard someone say they were researchers from the university. The stout man with the lady in black is Sir James Smith – they lost two boys in the war. The tall, dark person, is a weird man named Barclay, who lives, I understand, in one room and seldom comes out save for a seance.»
«And the man with the horn glasses?»
«That is a pompous ass named Weatherby. He is one of those who wander about on the obscure edges of Masonry, talking with whispers and reverence of mysteries where no mystery is. Spiritualism, with its very real and awful mysteries, is, to him, a vulgar thing because it brought consolation to common folk, but he loves to read papers on the Palladian Cultus, ancient and accepted Scottish rites, and Baphometic figures. Eliphas Levi is his prophet.»
«It sounds very learned.» said Enid.
«Or very absurd. But, hullo! Here are mutual friends.» The two Bolsovers had arrived, very hot and frowsy and genial. There is no such leveller of classes as Spiritualism, and the charwoman with psychic force is the superior of the millionaire who lacks it. The Bolsovers and the aristocrats fraternized instantly. The Duchess was just asking for admission to the grocer's circle, when Mrs. Ogilvy bustled in.
«I think everyone is here now,» she said. «It is time to go upstairs.»
The seance room was a large, comfortable chamber on the first floor, with a circle of easy chairs, and a curtain-hung divan which served as a cabinet. The medium and his wife were waiting there. Mr. Linden was a gentle, large-featured man, stoutish in build, deep-chested, clean-shaven, with dreamy, blue eyes and flaxen, curly hair which rose in a pyramid at the apex of his head. He was of middle age. His wife was rather younger, with the sharp, querulous expression of the tired housekeeper, and quick, critical eyes, which softened into something like adoration when she looked at her husband. Her role was to explain matters, and to guard his interests while he was unconscious.
«The sitters had better just take their own places,» said the medium. «If you can alternate the sexes it is as well. Don't cross your knees, it breaks the current. If we have a materialization, don't grab at it. If you do, you are liable to injure me.»
The two sleuths of the Research Society looked at each other knowingly. Mailey observed it.
«Quite right,» he said. «I have seen two cases of dangerous haemorrhage in the medium brought on by that very cause.»
«Why?» asked Malone.
«Because the ectoplasm used is drawn from the medium. It recoils upon him like a snapped elastic band. Where it comes through the skin you get a bruise. Where it comes from mucous membrane you get bleeding.»
«And when it comes from nothing, you get nothing"» said the researcher with a grin.
«I will explain the procedure in a few words,» said Mrs. Ogilvy, when everyone was seated. «Mr. Linden does not enter the cabinet at all. He sits outside it, and as he tolerates red light you will be able to satisfy yourselves that he does not leave his seat. Mrs. Linden sits on the other side. She is there to regulate and explain. In the first place we would wish you to examine the cabinet. One of you will also please lock the door on the inside and be responsible for the key.»
The cabinet proved to be a mere tent of hangings, detached from the wall and standing on a solid platform. The researchers ferreted about inside it and stamped on the boards. All seemed solid.
«What is the use of it?» Malone whispered to Mailey.
«It serves as a reservoir and condensing place for the ectoplasmic vapour from the medium, which would otherwise diffuse over the room.»
«It has been known to serve other purposes also,» remarked one of the researchers, who overheard the conversation.
«That's true enough,» said Mailey philosophically. «I am all in favour of caution and supervision.»
«Well, it seems fraud-proof on this occasion, if the medium sits outside.» The two researchers were agreed on this.
The medium was seated on one side of the little tent, his wife on the other. The light was out, and a small red lamp near the ceiling was just sufficient to enable outlines to be clearly seen. As the eyes became accustomed to it some detail could also be observed.
«Mr. Linden will begin by some clairvoyant readings» said Mrs. Linden. Her whole attitude, seated beside the cabinet with her hands on her lap and the air of a proprietor, made Enid smile, for she thought of Mrs. Jarley and her waxworks.
Linden, who was not in a trance, began to give clairvoyance. It was not very good. Possibly the mixed influence of so many sitters of various types at close quarters was too disturbing. That was the excuse which he gave himself when several of his descriptions were unrecognized. But Malone was more shocked by those which were recognized, since it was so clear that the word was put into the medium's mouth. It was the folly of the sitter rather than the fault of the medium, but it was disconcerting all the same.
«I see a young man with brown eyes and a rather drooping moustache.»
«Oh, darling, darling, have you then come back!» cried Miss Badley. «Oh, has he a message?»
«He sends his love and does not forget.»
«Oh, how evidential! It is so exactly what the dear boy would have said! My first lover, you know,» she added, in a simpering voice to the company. «He never fails to come. Mr. Linden has brought him again and again.»
«There is a young fellow in khaki building up on the left. I see a symbol over his head. It might be a Greek cross.»
«Jim – it is surely Jim!» cried Lady Smith.
«Yes. He nods his head.»
«And the Greek cross is probably a propeller,» said Sir James. «He was in the Air Service, you know.» Malone and Enid were both rather shocked. Mailey was also uneasy.
«This is not good,» he whispered to Enid. «Wait a bit ! You will get something better.»
There were several good recognitions, and then someone resembling Summerlee was described for Malone. This was wisely discounted by him, since Linden might have been in the audience on the former occasion. Mrs. Debbs' exhibition seemed to him far more convincing than that of Linden.
«Wait a bit!» Mailey repeated.
«The medium will now try for materializations,» said Mrs. Linden. «If the figures appear I would ask you not to touch them, save by request. Victor will tell you if you may do so. Victor is the medium's control.»
The medium had settled down in his chair and he now began to draw long, whistling breaths with deep intakes, puffing the air out between his lips. Finally he steadied down and seemed to sink into a deep coma, his chin upon his breast. Suddenly he spoke, but it seemed that his voice was better modulated and more cultivated than before.
«Good evening, all!» said the voice.
There was a general murmur of «Good evening, Victor.»
«I am afraid that the vibrations are not very harmonious. The sceptical element is present, but not, I think, predominant, so that we may hope for results. Martin Lightfoot is doing what he can.»
«That is the Indian control» Mailey whispered.
«I think that if you would start the gramophone it would be helpful. A hymn is always best, though there is no real objection to secular music. Give us what you think best, Mrs. Ogilvy.»
There was the rasping of a needle which had not yet found its grooves. Then «Lead, Kindly Light» was churned out. The audience joined in in a subdued fashion. Mrs. Ogilvy then changed it to «O, God, our help in ages past».
«They often change the records themselves,» said Mrs. Ogilvy, «but to-night there is not enough power.»
«Oh, yes,» said the voice. «There is enough power, Mrs. Ogilvy, but we are anxious to conserve it all for the materializations. Martin says they are building up very well.»
At this moment the curtain in front of the cabinet began to sway. It bellied out as if a strong wind were behind it. At the same time a breeze was felt by all who were in the circle, together with a sensation of cold.
«It is quite chilly,» whispered Enid, with a shiver.
«It is not a subjective feeling,» Mailey answered. «Mr. Harry Price has tested it with thermometric readings. So did Professor Crawford.»
«My God!» cried a startled voice. It belonged to the pompous dabbler in mysteries, who was suddenly faced with a real mystery. The curtains of the cabinet had parted and a human figure had stolen noiselessly out. There was the medium clearly outlined on one side. There was Mrs. Linden, who had sprung to her feet, on the other. And, between them, the little black, hesitating figure, which seemed to be terrified at its own position. Mrs. Linden soothed and encouraged it.
«Don't be alarmed, dear. It is all quite right. No one will hurt you.»
«It is someone who has never been through before,» she explained to the company. «Naturally it seems very strange to her. Just as strange as if we broke into their world. That's right, dear. You are gaining strength, I can see. Well done!»
The figure was moving forward. Everyone sat spellbound, with staring eyes. Miss Badley began to giggle hysterically. Weatherby lay back in his chair, gasping with horror. Neither Malone nor Enid felt any fear, but were consumed with curiosity. How marvellous to hear the humdrum flow of life in the street outside and to be face to face with such a sight as that.
Slowly the figure moved round. Now it was close to Enid and between her and the red light. Stooping, she could get the silhouette sharply outlined. It was that of a little, elderly woman, with sharp, clear-cut features.
«It's Susan!» cried Mrs. Bolsover. «Oh, Susan, don't you know me?»
The figure turned and nodded her head.
«Yes, yes, dear, it is your sister Susie,» cried her husband. «I never saw her in anything but black. Susan, speak to us!»
The head was shaken.
«They seldom speak the first time they come,» said Mrs. Linden, whose rather blase, business-like air was in contrast to the intense emotion of the company. «I'm afraid she can't hold together long. Ah, there! She has gone!»
The figure had disappeared. There had been some backward movement towards the cabinet, but it seemed to the observers that she sank into the ground before she reached it. At any rate, she was gone.
«Gramophone, please!» said Mrs. Linden. Everyone relaxed and sat back with a sigh. The gramophone struck up a lively air. Suddenly the curtains parted, and a second figure appeared.
It was a young girl, with flowing hair down her back. She came forward swiftly and with perfect assurance to the centre of the circle.
Mrs. Linden laughed in a satisfied way.
«Now you will get something good,» she said. «Here is Lucille.»
«Good evening, Lucille!» cried the Duchess. «I met you last month, you will remember, when your medium came to Maltraver Towers.»
«Yes, yes, lady, I remember you. You have a little boy, Tommy, on our side of life. No, no, not dead, lady! We are far more alive than you are. All the fun and frolic are with us!» She spoke in a high clear voice and perfect English.
«Shall I show you what we do over here?» She began a graceful, gliding dance, while she whistled as melodiously as a bird. «Poor Susan could not do that. Susan has had no practice. Lucille knows how to use a built-up body.»
«Do you remember me, Lucille?» asked Mailey.
«I remember you, Mr. Mailey. Big man with yellow beard.»
For the second time in her life Enid had to pinch herself hard to satisfy herself that she was not dreaming. Was this graceful creature, who had now sat down in the centre of the circle, a real materialization of ectoplasm, used for the moment as a machine for expression by a soul that had passed, or was it an illusion of the senses, or was it a fraud? There were the three possibilities. An illusion was absurd when all had the same impression. Was it a fraud? But this was certainly not the little old woman. She was inches taller and fair, not dark. And the cabinet was fraud-proof. It had been meticulously examined. Then it was true. But if it were true, what a vista of possibilities opened out. Was it not far the greatest matter which could claim the attention of the world!
Meanwhile, Lucille had been so natural and the situation was so normal that even the most nervous had relaxed. The girl answered most cheerfully to every question, and they rained upon her from every side.
«Where did you live, Lucille?»
«Perhaps I had better answer that,» interposed Mrs. Linden. «It will save the power. Lucille was bred in South Dakota in the United States, and passed over at the age of fourteen. We have verified some of her statements.»
«Are you glad you died, Lucille?»
«Glad for my own sake. Sorry for mother.»
«Has your mother seen you since?»
«Poor mother is a shut box. Lucille cannot open the lid.»
«Are you happy?»
«Oh, yes, so gloriously happy.»
«Is it right that you can come back?»
«Would God allow it if it were not right? What a wicked man you must be to ask!»
«What religion were you?»
«We were Roman Catholics.»
«Is that the right religion?»
«All religions are right if they make you better.»
«Then it does not matter.»
«It is what people do in daily life, not what they believe.»
«Tell us more, Lucille.»
«Lucille has little time. There are others who wish to come. If Lucille uses too much power, the others have less. Oh, God is very good and kind! You poor people on earth do not know how good and kind He is because it is grey down there. But it is grey for your own good. It is to give you your chance to earn all the lovely things which wait for you. But you can only tell how wonderful He is when you get over here.»
«Have you seen him?»
«Seen Him! How could you see God? No, no, He is all round us and in us and in everything, but we do not see Him. But I have seen the Christ. Oh, He was glorious, glorious! Now, good-bye – good-bye!» She backed towards the cabinet and sank into the shadows.
Now came a tremendous experience for Malone. A small, dark, rather broad figure of a woman appeared slowly from the cabinet. Mrs. Linden encouraged her, and then came across to the journalist.
«It is for you. You can break the circle. Come up to her.»
Malone advanced and peered, awestruck, into the face of the apparition. There was not a foot between them. Surely that large head, that solid, square outline was familiar! He put his face still nearer – it was almost touching. He strained his eyes. It seemed to him that the features were semi-fluid, moulding themselves into a shape, as if some unseen hand was modelling them in putty. «Mother! « he cried. «Mother! «
Instantly the figure threw up both her hands in a wild gesture of joy. The motion seemed to destroy her equilibrium and she vanished.
«She had not been through before. She could not speak,» said Mrs. Linden, in her business-like way. «It was your mother.»
Malone went back half-stunned to his seat. It is only when these things come to one's own address that one understands their full force. His mother! Ten years in her grave and yet standing before him. Could he swear it was his mother? No, he could not. Was he morally certain that it was his mother? Yes, he was morally certain. He was shaken to the core.
But other wonders diverted his thoughts. A young man had emerged briskly from the cabinet and had advanced to the front of Mailey, where he had halted.
«Hullo, Jock! Dear old Jock!» said Mailey. «My nephew,» he explained to the company. «He always comes when I am with Linden.»
«The power is sinking,» said the lad, in a clear voice. «I can't stay very long. I am so glad to see you, Uncle. You know, we can see quite clearly in this light, even if you can't.»
«Yes, I know you can. I say, Jock. I wanted to tell you that I told your mother I had seen you. She said her Church taught her it was wrong.»
«I know. And that I was a demon. Oh, it is rotten, rotten, rotten, and rotten things will fall!» His voice broke in a sob.
«Don't blame her Jock, she believes this.»
«No, no, I don't blame her! She will know better some day. The day is coming soon when all truth will be manifest and all these corrupt Churches will be swept off the earth with their cruel doctrines and their caricatures of God.»
«Why, Jock, you are becoming quite a heretic!»
«Love, Uncle! Love! That is all that counts. What matter what you believe if you are sweet and kind and unselfish as the Christ was of old?»
«Have you seen Christ?» asked someone.
«Not yet. Perhaps the time may come.»
«Is he not in Heaven, then?»
«There are many heavens. I am in a very humble one. But it is glorious all the same.»
Enid had thrust her head forward during this dialogue. Her eyes had got used to the light and she could see more clearly than before. The man who stood within a few feet of her was not human. Of that she had no doubt whatever, and yet the points were very subtle. Something in his strange, yellow-white colouring as contrasted with the faces of her neighbours. Something, also, in the curious stiffness of his carriage, as of a man in very rigid stays.
«Now, Jock,» said Mailey, «give an address to the company. Tell them a few words about your life.»
The figure hung his head, exactly as a shy youth would do in life.
«Oh, Uncle, I can't.»
«Come, Jock, we love to listen to you.»
«Teach the folk what death is,» the figure began. «God wants them to know. That is why He lets us come back. It is nothing. You are no more changed than if you went into the next room. You can't believe you are dead. I didn't. It was only when I saw old Sam that I knew, for I was certain that he was dead, anyhow. Then I came back to mother. And»
– his voice broke – «she would not receive me.»
«Never mind, dear old Jock,» said Mailey. «She will learn wisdom.»
«Teach them the truth! Teach it to them! Oh, it u so much more important than all the things men talk about. If papers for one week gave as much attention to psychic things as they do to football, it would be known to all. It is ignorance which stands – «
The observers were conscious of a sort of flash towards the cabinet, but the youth had disappeared.
«Power run down,» said Mailey. «Poor lad, he held on to the last. He always did. That was how he died.
There was a long pause. The gramophone started again. Then there was a movement of the curtains. Something was emerging. Mrs. Linden sprang up and waved the figure back. The medium for the first time stirred in his chair and groaned.
«What is the matter, Mrs. Linden?»
«Only half-formed,» she answered. «The lower face had not materialized. Some of you would have been alarmed. I think that we shall have no more to-night The power has sunk very low.»
So it proved. The lights were gradually turned on. The medium lay with a white face and a clammy brow in his chair, while his wife sedulously watched over him, unbuttoning his collar and bathing his face from a water-glass. The company broke into little groups, discussing what they had seen.
«Oh, wasn't it thrilling?» cried Miss Badley. «It really was most exciting. But what a pity we could not see the one with the semi-materialized face.»
«Thanks, I have seen quite enough,» said the pompous mystic, all the pomposity shaken out of him. «I confess that it has been rather too much for my nerves.»
Mr. Atkinson found himself near the psychic researchers.
«Well, what do you make of it?» he asked.
«I have seen it better done at Maskelyne's Hall,» said one.
«Oh, come, Scott!,» said the other. «You've no right to say that. You admitted that the cabinet was fraud-proof.»
«Well, so do the committees who go on the stage at Maskelyne's.»
«Yes, but it is Maskelyne's own stage. This is not Linden's own stage. He has no machinery.»
Polter, the famous novelist, was there, a brilliant man with a subtle mind, which he used too often to avoid obvious truth and to defend some impossible position for the sake of the empty dialectic exercise. He was holding forth now to an admiring, but not entirely a subservient audience.
«Science,» said he, «is gradually sweeping the world clear of all these old cobwebs of superstition. The world was like some old, dusty attic, and the sun of science is bursting in, flooding it with light, while the dust settles gradually to the floor.»
«By science,» said someone maliciously, «you mean, of course, men like Sir William Crookes, Sir Oliver Lodge, Sir William Barrett, Lombroso, Richet, and so forth.»
Polter was not accustomed to be countered, and usually became rude.
«No, sir, I mean nothing so preposterous,» he answered, with a glare. «No name, however eminent, can claim to stand for science so long as he is a member of an insignificant minority of scientific men.»
«He is, then, a crank,» said Pollifex, the artist, who usually played jackal to Polter.
The objector, one Millworthy, a free-lance of journalism, was not to be so easily silenced.
«Then Galileo was a crank in his day,» said he. «And Harvey was a crank when he was laughed at over the circulation of the blood.»
«It's the circulation of the Daily Gazette which is at stake,» said Marrible, the humorist of the club. «If they get off their stunt I don't suppose they care a tinker's curse what is truth or what is not.»
«Why such things should be examined at all, except in a police court, I can't imagine,» said Polter. «It is a dispersal of energy, a misdirection of human thought into channels which lead nowhere. We have plenty of obvious, material things to examine. Let us get on with our job.»
Atkinson, the surgeon, was one of the circle, and had sat silently listening. Now he spoke.
«I think the learned bodies should find more time for the consideration of psychic matters.»
«Less,» said Polter.
«You can't have less than nothing. They ignore them altogether. Some time ago I had a series of cases of telepathic rapport which I wished to lay before the Royal Society. My colleague Wilson, the zoologist, also had a paper which he proposed to read. They went in together. His was accepted and mine rejected. The title of his paper was 'The Reproductive System of the Dung-Beetle'.»
There was a general laugh.
«Quite right, too,» said Polter. «The humble dung-beetle was at least a fact. All this psychic stuff is not.»
«No doubt you have good grounds for your views,» chirped the mischievous Millworthy, a mild youth with a velvety manner. «I have little time for solid reading, so I should like to ask you which of Dr. Crawford's three books you consider the best?»
«I never heard of the fellow.»
Millworthy simulated intense surprise.
«Good Heavens, man! Why, he is the authority. If you want pure laboratory experiments those are the books. You might as well lay down the law about zoology and confess that you had never heard of Darwin.»
«This is not science,» said Polter, emphatically.
«What is really not science,» said Atkinson, with some heat, «is the laying down of the law on matters which you have not studied. It is talk of that sort which has brought me to the edge of Spiritualism, when I compare this dogmatic ignorance with the earnest search for truth conducted by the great Spiritualists. Many of them took twenty years of work before they formed their conclusions.»
«But their conclusions are worthless because they are upholding a formed opinion.»
«But each of them fought a long fight before he formed that opinion. I know a few of them, and there is not one who did not take a lot of convincing.» Polter shrugged his shoulders.
«Well, they can have their spooks if it makes them happier so long as they let me keep my feet firm on the ground.»
«Or stuck in the mud,» said Atkinson.
«I would rather be in the mud with sane people thin in the air with lunatics,» said Polter. «I know some of these Spiritualists people and I believe that you can divide them equally into fools and rogues.»
Malone had listened with interest and then with a growing indignation. Now he suddenly took fire.
«Look here, Polter,» he said, turning his chair towards the company, «it is fools and dolts like you which are holding back the world's progress. You admit that you have read nothing of this, and I'll swear you have seen nothing. Yet you use the position and the name which you have won in other matters in order to discredit a number of people who, whatever they may be, are certainly very earnest and very thoughtful.»
«Oh,» said Polter, «I had no idea you had got so far. You don't dare to say so in your articles. You are a Spiritualist then. That rather discounts your views, does it not?»
«I am not a Spiritualist, but I am an honest inquirer, and that is more than you have ever been. You call them rogues and fools, but, little as I know, I am sure that some of them are men and women whose boots you are not worthy to clean.»
«Oh, come, Malone!» cried one or two voices, but the insulted Polter was on his feet. «It's men like you who empty this club,» he cried, as he swept out. «I shall certainly never come here again to be insulted.»
«I say, you've done it, Malone!»
«I felt inclined to help him out with a kick. Why should he ride roughshod over other people's feelings and beliefs? He has got on and most of us haven't, so he thinks it's a condescension to come among us.»
«Dear old Irishman!» said Atkinson, patting his shoulder. «Rest, perturbed spirit, rest! But I wanted to have a word with you. Indeed, I was waiting here because I did not want to interrupt you.»
«I've had interruptions enough!» cried Malone. «How could I work with that damned donkey braying in my ear?»
«Well, I've only a word to say. I've got a sitting with Linden, the famous medium of whom I spoke to you, at the Psychic College to-night. I have an extra ticket. Would you care to come?»
«Come? I should think so!»
«I have another ticket. I should have asked Polter if he had not been so offensive. Linden does not mind sceptics, but objects to scoffers. Who should I ask?»
«Let Miss Enid Challenger come. We work together, you know.»
«Why, of course I will. Will you let her know?»
«Certainly.»
«It's at seven o'clock to-night. The Psychic College. You know the place down at Holland Park.»
«Yes, I have the address. Very well, Miss Challenger and I will certainly be there.»
Behold the pair, then, upon a fresh psychic adventure. They picked Atkinson up at Wimpole Street, and then traversed that long, roaring rushing, driving belt of the great city which extends through Oxford Street and Bayswater to Notting Hill and the stately Victorian houses of Holland Park. It was at one of these that the taxi drew up, a large, imposing building, standing back a little from the road. A smart maid admitted them, and the subdued light of the tinted hall-lamp fell upon shining linoleum and polished woodwork with the gleam of white marble statuary in the corner. Enid's female perceptions told her of a well-run, well-appointed establishment, with a capable direction at the head. This direction took the shape of a kindly Scottish lady who met them in the hall and greeted Mr. Atkinson as an old friend. She was, in turn, introduced to the journalists as Mrs. Ogilvy. Malone had already heard how her husband and she had founded and run this remarkable institute, which is the centre of psychic experiment in London, at a very great cost, both in labour and in money, to themselves.
«Linden and his wife have gone up,» said Mrs. Ogilvy. «He seems to think that the conditions are favourable. The rest are in the drawing-room. Won't you join them for a few minutes?»
Quite a number of people had gathered for the seance, some of them old psychic students who were mildly interested, others, beginners who looked about them with rather startled eyes, wondering what was going to happen next. A tall man was standing near the door who turned and disclosed the tawny beard and open face of Algernon Mailey. He shook hands with the newcomers.
«Another experience, Mr. Malone? Well, I thought you gave a very fair account of the last. You are still a neophyte, but you are well within the gates of the temple. Are you alarmed, Miss Challenger?»
«I don't think I could be while you were around,» she answered.
He laughed.
«Of course, a materialization seance is a little different to any other – more impressive, in a way. You'll find it very instructive, Malone, as bearing upon psychic photography and other matters. By the way, you should try for a psychic picture. The famous Hope works upstairs.»
«I always thought that that at least was fraud.»
«On the contrary, I should say it was the best established of all phenomena, the one which leaves the most permanent proof. I've been a dozen times under every possible test conditions. The real trouble is, not that it lends itself to fraud, but that it lends itself to exploitation by that villainous journalism which cares only for a sensation. Do you know anyone here?»
«No, we don't.»
«The tall, handsome lady is the Duchess of Rossland. Then, there are Lord and Lady Montnoir, the middle-aged couple near the fire. Real, good folk and among the very few of the aristocracy who have shown earnestness and moral courage in this matter. The talkative lady is Miss Badley, who lives for seances, a jaded Society woman in search of new sensations – always visible, always audible, and always empty. I don't know the two men. I heard someone say they were researchers from the university. The stout man with the lady in black is Sir James Smith – they lost two boys in the war. The tall, dark person, is a weird man named Barclay, who lives, I understand, in one room and seldom comes out save for a seance.»
«And the man with the horn glasses?»
«That is a pompous ass named Weatherby. He is one of those who wander about on the obscure edges of Masonry, talking with whispers and reverence of mysteries where no mystery is. Spiritualism, with its very real and awful mysteries, is, to him, a vulgar thing because it brought consolation to common folk, but he loves to read papers on the Palladian Cultus, ancient and accepted Scottish rites, and Baphometic figures. Eliphas Levi is his prophet.»
«It sounds very learned.» said Enid.
«Or very absurd. But, hullo! Here are mutual friends.» The two Bolsovers had arrived, very hot and frowsy and genial. There is no such leveller of classes as Spiritualism, and the charwoman with psychic force is the superior of the millionaire who lacks it. The Bolsovers and the aristocrats fraternized instantly. The Duchess was just asking for admission to the grocer's circle, when Mrs. Ogilvy bustled in.
«I think everyone is here now,» she said. «It is time to go upstairs.»
The seance room was a large, comfortable chamber on the first floor, with a circle of easy chairs, and a curtain-hung divan which served as a cabinet. The medium and his wife were waiting there. Mr. Linden was a gentle, large-featured man, stoutish in build, deep-chested, clean-shaven, with dreamy, blue eyes and flaxen, curly hair which rose in a pyramid at the apex of his head. He was of middle age. His wife was rather younger, with the sharp, querulous expression of the tired housekeeper, and quick, critical eyes, which softened into something like adoration when she looked at her husband. Her role was to explain matters, and to guard his interests while he was unconscious.
«The sitters had better just take their own places,» said the medium. «If you can alternate the sexes it is as well. Don't cross your knees, it breaks the current. If we have a materialization, don't grab at it. If you do, you are liable to injure me.»
The two sleuths of the Research Society looked at each other knowingly. Mailey observed it.
«Quite right,» he said. «I have seen two cases of dangerous haemorrhage in the medium brought on by that very cause.»
«Why?» asked Malone.
«Because the ectoplasm used is drawn from the medium. It recoils upon him like a snapped elastic band. Where it comes through the skin you get a bruise. Where it comes from mucous membrane you get bleeding.»
«And when it comes from nothing, you get nothing"» said the researcher with a grin.
«I will explain the procedure in a few words,» said Mrs. Ogilvy, when everyone was seated. «Mr. Linden does not enter the cabinet at all. He sits outside it, and as he tolerates red light you will be able to satisfy yourselves that he does not leave his seat. Mrs. Linden sits on the other side. She is there to regulate and explain. In the first place we would wish you to examine the cabinet. One of you will also please lock the door on the inside and be responsible for the key.»
The cabinet proved to be a mere tent of hangings, detached from the wall and standing on a solid platform. The researchers ferreted about inside it and stamped on the boards. All seemed solid.
«What is the use of it?» Malone whispered to Mailey.
«It serves as a reservoir and condensing place for the ectoplasmic vapour from the medium, which would otherwise diffuse over the room.»
«It has been known to serve other purposes also,» remarked one of the researchers, who overheard the conversation.
«That's true enough,» said Mailey philosophically. «I am all in favour of caution and supervision.»
«Well, it seems fraud-proof on this occasion, if the medium sits outside.» The two researchers were agreed on this.
The medium was seated on one side of the little tent, his wife on the other. The light was out, and a small red lamp near the ceiling was just sufficient to enable outlines to be clearly seen. As the eyes became accustomed to it some detail could also be observed.
«Mr. Linden will begin by some clairvoyant readings» said Mrs. Linden. Her whole attitude, seated beside the cabinet with her hands on her lap and the air of a proprietor, made Enid smile, for she thought of Mrs. Jarley and her waxworks.
Linden, who was not in a trance, began to give clairvoyance. It was not very good. Possibly the mixed influence of so many sitters of various types at close quarters was too disturbing. That was the excuse which he gave himself when several of his descriptions were unrecognized. But Malone was more shocked by those which were recognized, since it was so clear that the word was put into the medium's mouth. It was the folly of the sitter rather than the fault of the medium, but it was disconcerting all the same.
«I see a young man with brown eyes and a rather drooping moustache.»
«Oh, darling, darling, have you then come back!» cried Miss Badley. «Oh, has he a message?»
«He sends his love and does not forget.»
«Oh, how evidential! It is so exactly what the dear boy would have said! My first lover, you know,» she added, in a simpering voice to the company. «He never fails to come. Mr. Linden has brought him again and again.»
«There is a young fellow in khaki building up on the left. I see a symbol over his head. It might be a Greek cross.»
«Jim – it is surely Jim!» cried Lady Smith.
«Yes. He nods his head.»
«And the Greek cross is probably a propeller,» said Sir James. «He was in the Air Service, you know.» Malone and Enid were both rather shocked. Mailey was also uneasy.
«This is not good,» he whispered to Enid. «Wait a bit ! You will get something better.»
There were several good recognitions, and then someone resembling Summerlee was described for Malone. This was wisely discounted by him, since Linden might have been in the audience on the former occasion. Mrs. Debbs' exhibition seemed to him far more convincing than that of Linden.
«Wait a bit!» Mailey repeated.
«The medium will now try for materializations,» said Mrs. Linden. «If the figures appear I would ask you not to touch them, save by request. Victor will tell you if you may do so. Victor is the medium's control.»
The medium had settled down in his chair and he now began to draw long, whistling breaths with deep intakes, puffing the air out between his lips. Finally he steadied down and seemed to sink into a deep coma, his chin upon his breast. Suddenly he spoke, but it seemed that his voice was better modulated and more cultivated than before.
«Good evening, all!» said the voice.
There was a general murmur of «Good evening, Victor.»
«I am afraid that the vibrations are not very harmonious. The sceptical element is present, but not, I think, predominant, so that we may hope for results. Martin Lightfoot is doing what he can.»
«That is the Indian control» Mailey whispered.
«I think that if you would start the gramophone it would be helpful. A hymn is always best, though there is no real objection to secular music. Give us what you think best, Mrs. Ogilvy.»
There was the rasping of a needle which had not yet found its grooves. Then «Lead, Kindly Light» was churned out. The audience joined in in a subdued fashion. Mrs. Ogilvy then changed it to «O, God, our help in ages past».
«They often change the records themselves,» said Mrs. Ogilvy, «but to-night there is not enough power.»
«Oh, yes,» said the voice. «There is enough power, Mrs. Ogilvy, but we are anxious to conserve it all for the materializations. Martin says they are building up very well.»
At this moment the curtain in front of the cabinet began to sway. It bellied out as if a strong wind were behind it. At the same time a breeze was felt by all who were in the circle, together with a sensation of cold.
«It is quite chilly,» whispered Enid, with a shiver.
«It is not a subjective feeling,» Mailey answered. «Mr. Harry Price has tested it with thermometric readings. So did Professor Crawford.»
«My God!» cried a startled voice. It belonged to the pompous dabbler in mysteries, who was suddenly faced with a real mystery. The curtains of the cabinet had parted and a human figure had stolen noiselessly out. There was the medium clearly outlined on one side. There was Mrs. Linden, who had sprung to her feet, on the other. And, between them, the little black, hesitating figure, which seemed to be terrified at its own position. Mrs. Linden soothed and encouraged it.
«Don't be alarmed, dear. It is all quite right. No one will hurt you.»
«It is someone who has never been through before,» she explained to the company. «Naturally it seems very strange to her. Just as strange as if we broke into their world. That's right, dear. You are gaining strength, I can see. Well done!»
The figure was moving forward. Everyone sat spellbound, with staring eyes. Miss Badley began to giggle hysterically. Weatherby lay back in his chair, gasping with horror. Neither Malone nor Enid felt any fear, but were consumed with curiosity. How marvellous to hear the humdrum flow of life in the street outside and to be face to face with such a sight as that.
Slowly the figure moved round. Now it was close to Enid and between her and the red light. Stooping, she could get the silhouette sharply outlined. It was that of a little, elderly woman, with sharp, clear-cut features.
«It's Susan!» cried Mrs. Bolsover. «Oh, Susan, don't you know me?»
The figure turned and nodded her head.
«Yes, yes, dear, it is your sister Susie,» cried her husband. «I never saw her in anything but black. Susan, speak to us!»
The head was shaken.
«They seldom speak the first time they come,» said Mrs. Linden, whose rather blase, business-like air was in contrast to the intense emotion of the company. «I'm afraid she can't hold together long. Ah, there! She has gone!»
The figure had disappeared. There had been some backward movement towards the cabinet, but it seemed to the observers that she sank into the ground before she reached it. At any rate, she was gone.
«Gramophone, please!» said Mrs. Linden. Everyone relaxed and sat back with a sigh. The gramophone struck up a lively air. Suddenly the curtains parted, and a second figure appeared.
It was a young girl, with flowing hair down her back. She came forward swiftly and with perfect assurance to the centre of the circle.
Mrs. Linden laughed in a satisfied way.
«Now you will get something good,» she said. «Here is Lucille.»
«Good evening, Lucille!» cried the Duchess. «I met you last month, you will remember, when your medium came to Maltraver Towers.»
«Yes, yes, lady, I remember you. You have a little boy, Tommy, on our side of life. No, no, not dead, lady! We are far more alive than you are. All the fun and frolic are with us!» She spoke in a high clear voice and perfect English.
«Shall I show you what we do over here?» She began a graceful, gliding dance, while she whistled as melodiously as a bird. «Poor Susan could not do that. Susan has had no practice. Lucille knows how to use a built-up body.»
«Do you remember me, Lucille?» asked Mailey.
«I remember you, Mr. Mailey. Big man with yellow beard.»
For the second time in her life Enid had to pinch herself hard to satisfy herself that she was not dreaming. Was this graceful creature, who had now sat down in the centre of the circle, a real materialization of ectoplasm, used for the moment as a machine for expression by a soul that had passed, or was it an illusion of the senses, or was it a fraud? There were the three possibilities. An illusion was absurd when all had the same impression. Was it a fraud? But this was certainly not the little old woman. She was inches taller and fair, not dark. And the cabinet was fraud-proof. It had been meticulously examined. Then it was true. But if it were true, what a vista of possibilities opened out. Was it not far the greatest matter which could claim the attention of the world!
Meanwhile, Lucille had been so natural and the situation was so normal that even the most nervous had relaxed. The girl answered most cheerfully to every question, and they rained upon her from every side.
«Where did you live, Lucille?»
«Perhaps I had better answer that,» interposed Mrs. Linden. «It will save the power. Lucille was bred in South Dakota in the United States, and passed over at the age of fourteen. We have verified some of her statements.»
«Are you glad you died, Lucille?»
«Glad for my own sake. Sorry for mother.»
«Has your mother seen you since?»
«Poor mother is a shut box. Lucille cannot open the lid.»
«Are you happy?»
«Oh, yes, so gloriously happy.»
«Is it right that you can come back?»
«Would God allow it if it were not right? What a wicked man you must be to ask!»
«What religion were you?»
«We were Roman Catholics.»
«Is that the right religion?»
«All religions are right if they make you better.»
«Then it does not matter.»
«It is what people do in daily life, not what they believe.»
«Tell us more, Lucille.»
«Lucille has little time. There are others who wish to come. If Lucille uses too much power, the others have less. Oh, God is very good and kind! You poor people on earth do not know how good and kind He is because it is grey down there. But it is grey for your own good. It is to give you your chance to earn all the lovely things which wait for you. But you can only tell how wonderful He is when you get over here.»
«Have you seen him?»
«Seen Him! How could you see God? No, no, He is all round us and in us and in everything, but we do not see Him. But I have seen the Christ. Oh, He was glorious, glorious! Now, good-bye – good-bye!» She backed towards the cabinet and sank into the shadows.
Now came a tremendous experience for Malone. A small, dark, rather broad figure of a woman appeared slowly from the cabinet. Mrs. Linden encouraged her, and then came across to the journalist.
«It is for you. You can break the circle. Come up to her.»
Malone advanced and peered, awestruck, into the face of the apparition. There was not a foot between them. Surely that large head, that solid, square outline was familiar! He put his face still nearer – it was almost touching. He strained his eyes. It seemed to him that the features were semi-fluid, moulding themselves into a shape, as if some unseen hand was modelling them in putty. «Mother! « he cried. «Mother! «
Instantly the figure threw up both her hands in a wild gesture of joy. The motion seemed to destroy her equilibrium and she vanished.
«She had not been through before. She could not speak,» said Mrs. Linden, in her business-like way. «It was your mother.»
Malone went back half-stunned to his seat. It is only when these things come to one's own address that one understands their full force. His mother! Ten years in her grave and yet standing before him. Could he swear it was his mother? No, he could not. Was he morally certain that it was his mother? Yes, he was morally certain. He was shaken to the core.
But other wonders diverted his thoughts. A young man had emerged briskly from the cabinet and had advanced to the front of Mailey, where he had halted.
«Hullo, Jock! Dear old Jock!» said Mailey. «My nephew,» he explained to the company. «He always comes when I am with Linden.»
«The power is sinking,» said the lad, in a clear voice. «I can't stay very long. I am so glad to see you, Uncle. You know, we can see quite clearly in this light, even if you can't.»
«Yes, I know you can. I say, Jock. I wanted to tell you that I told your mother I had seen you. She said her Church taught her it was wrong.»
«I know. And that I was a demon. Oh, it is rotten, rotten, rotten, and rotten things will fall!» His voice broke in a sob.
«Don't blame her Jock, she believes this.»
«No, no, I don't blame her! She will know better some day. The day is coming soon when all truth will be manifest and all these corrupt Churches will be swept off the earth with their cruel doctrines and their caricatures of God.»
«Why, Jock, you are becoming quite a heretic!»
«Love, Uncle! Love! That is all that counts. What matter what you believe if you are sweet and kind and unselfish as the Christ was of old?»
«Have you seen Christ?» asked someone.
«Not yet. Perhaps the time may come.»
«Is he not in Heaven, then?»
«There are many heavens. I am in a very humble one. But it is glorious all the same.»
Enid had thrust her head forward during this dialogue. Her eyes had got used to the light and she could see more clearly than before. The man who stood within a few feet of her was not human. Of that she had no doubt whatever, and yet the points were very subtle. Something in his strange, yellow-white colouring as contrasted with the faces of her neighbours. Something, also, in the curious stiffness of his carriage, as of a man in very rigid stays.
«Now, Jock,» said Mailey, «give an address to the company. Tell them a few words about your life.»
The figure hung his head, exactly as a shy youth would do in life.
«Oh, Uncle, I can't.»
«Come, Jock, we love to listen to you.»
«Teach the folk what death is,» the figure began. «God wants them to know. That is why He lets us come back. It is nothing. You are no more changed than if you went into the next room. You can't believe you are dead. I didn't. It was only when I saw old Sam that I knew, for I was certain that he was dead, anyhow. Then I came back to mother. And»
– his voice broke – «she would not receive me.»
«Never mind, dear old Jock,» said Mailey. «She will learn wisdom.»
«Teach them the truth! Teach it to them! Oh, it u so much more important than all the things men talk about. If papers for one week gave as much attention to psychic things as they do to football, it would be known to all. It is ignorance which stands – «
The observers were conscious of a sort of flash towards the cabinet, but the youth had disappeared.
«Power run down,» said Mailey. «Poor lad, he held on to the last. He always did. That was how he died.
There was a long pause. The gramophone started again. Then there was a movement of the curtains. Something was emerging. Mrs. Linden sprang up and waved the figure back. The medium for the first time stirred in his chair and groaned.
«What is the matter, Mrs. Linden?»
«Only half-formed,» she answered. «The lower face had not materialized. Some of you would have been alarmed. I think that we shall have no more to-night The power has sunk very low.»
So it proved. The lights were gradually turned on. The medium lay with a white face and a clammy brow in his chair, while his wife sedulously watched over him, unbuttoning his collar and bathing his face from a water-glass. The company broke into little groups, discussing what they had seen.
«Oh, wasn't it thrilling?» cried Miss Badley. «It really was most exciting. But what a pity we could not see the one with the semi-materialized face.»
«Thanks, I have seen quite enough,» said the pompous mystic, all the pomposity shaken out of him. «I confess that it has been rather too much for my nerves.»
Mr. Atkinson found himself near the psychic researchers.
«Well, what do you make of it?» he asked.
«I have seen it better done at Maskelyne's Hall,» said one.
«Oh, come, Scott!,» said the other. «You've no right to say that. You admitted that the cabinet was fraud-proof.»
«Well, so do the committees who go on the stage at Maskelyne's.»
«Yes, but it is Maskelyne's own stage. This is not Linden's own stage. He has no machinery.»