AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ah, well, these are but words, my friends. They arethere—somewhere—everywhere—I cannot tell myself. I see them. I could nottouch them.”
“You could not make _us_ see them.”
“It is to materialize them. Hold! It is an experiment. But the power iswanting. Let us see what power we have, and then arrange what we shalldo. May I place you as I should wish?”
“You evidently know a great deal more about it than we do,” said HarveyDeacon; “I wish that you would take complete control.”
“It may be that the conditions are not good. But we will try what we cando. Madame will sit where she is, I next, and this gentleman beside me.Meester Moir will sit next to madame, because it is well to have blacksand blondes in turn. So! And now with your permission I will turn thelights all out.”
“What is the advantage of the dark?” I asked.
“Because the force with which we deal is a vibration of ether and soalso is light. We have the wires all for ourselves now—_hein_? You willnot be frightened in the darkness, madame? What a fun is such a séance!”
At first the darkness appeared to be absolutely pitchy, but in a fewminutes our eyes became so far accustomed to it that we could just makeout each other’s presence—very dimly and vaguely, it is true. I couldsee nothing else in the room—only the black loom of the motionlessfigures. We were all taking the matter much more seriously than we hadever done before.
“You will place your hands in front. It is hopeless that we touch, sincewe are so few round so large a table. You will compose yourself, madame,and if sleep should come to you you will not fight against it. And nowwe sit in silence and we expect——_hein_?”
So we sat in silence and expected, staring out into the blackness infront of us. A clock ticked in the passage. A dog barked intermittentlyfar away. Once or twice a cab rattled past in the street, and the gleamof its lamps through the chink in the curtains was a cheerful break inthat gloomy vigil. I felt those physical symptoms with which previousséances had made me familiar—the coldness of the feet, the tingling inthe hands, the glow of the palms, the feeling of a cold wind upon theback. Strange little shooting pains came in my forearms, especially asit seemed to me in my left one, which was nearest to our visitor—due nodoubt to disturbance of the vascular system, but worthy of someattention all the same. At the same time I was conscious of a strainedfeeling of expectancy which was almost painful. From the rigid, absolutesilence of my companions I gathered that their nerves were as tense asmy own.
And then suddenly a sound came out of the darkness—a low, sibilantsound, the quick, thin breathing of a woman. Quicker and thinner yet itcame, as between clenched teeth, to end in a loud gasp with a dullrustle of cloth.
“What’s that? Is all right?” someone asked in the darkness.
“Yes, all is right,” said the Frenchman. “It is madame. She is in hertrance. Now, gentlemen, if you will wait quiet you will see something, Ithink, which will interest you much.”
Still the ticking in the hall. Still the breathing, deeper and fullernow, from the medium. Still the occasional flash, more welcome thanever, of the passing lights of the hansoms. What a gap we were bridging,the half-raised veil of the eternal on the one side and the cabs ofLondon on the other. The table was throbbing with a mighty pulse. Itswayed steadily, rhythmically, with an easy swooping, scooping motionunder our fingers. Sharp little raps and cracks came from its substance,file-firing, volley-firing, the sounds of a fagot burning briskly on afrosty night.
“There is much power,” said the Frenchman. “See it on the table!”
I had thought it was some delusion of my own, but all could see it now.There was a greenish-yellow phosphorescent light—or I should say aluminous vapour rather than a light—which lay over the surface of thetable. It rolled and wreathed and undulated in dim glimmering folds,turning and swirling like clouds of smoke. I could see the white,square-ended hands of the French medium in this baleful light.
“What a fun!” he cried. “It is splendid!”
“Shall we call the alphabet?” asked Moir.
“But no—for we can do much better,” said our visitor. “It is but aclumsy thing to tilt the table for every letter of the alphabet, andwith such a medium as madame we should do better than that.”
“Yes, you will do better,” said a voice.
“Who was that? Who spoke? Was that you, Markham?”
“No, I did not speak.”
“It was madame who spoke.”
“But it was not her voice.”
“Is that you, Mrs. Delamere?”
“It is not the medium, but it is the power which uses the organs of themedium,” said the strange, deep voice.
“Where is Mrs. Delamere? It will not hurt her, I trust.”
“The medium is happy in another plane of existence. She has taken myplace, as I have taken hers.”
“Who are you?”
“It cannot matter to you who I am. I am one who has lived as you areliving, and who has died as you will die.”
