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“Be afraid of the darkness. Don’t find comfort in shadows, take solace in light. Murder. Death. Darkness and light. Death comes to Tipton Hollow tonight,” Madame Humphries chanted. Her voice see-sawed sinisterly between high pitched and husky as though she couldn’t be certain which voice she wanted to use.
Despite her doubts, Harriett felt panic rise at the almost ethereal glow that began to emanate from behind the Madame Humphries. It was slightly greenish in colour, and cast an eerie shadow over the clairvoyant’s face that made everyone gasp.
“Good Lord, would you look at that?” Mr Montague gasped and clutched at Harriett’s fingers tightly.
“What is it?” Tuppence gasped, her voice fuelled with curiosity and horror.
“I don’t know, but I think we have to stop this now,” Babette replied firmly.
“Murder. Death. Darkness and light. Death comes to Tipton Hollow tonight.”
“Stop it!” Miss Smethwick snapped. She yanked her hands away from those seated beside her and jumped to her feet. “Stop this nonsense at once.”
“Oh, sit down, woman,” Miss Haversham snapped. “Can’t you see this is getting interesting?” Despite her bravado, Miss Haversham looked a little shaken and began to grope around under her chair for her sherry glass.
For the first time that evening Miss Smethwick didn’t seem able to decide whether she wanted to leave or not. She stared hesitantly at the strange glow that surrounded the clairvoyant, and clearly couldn’t decide whether it was poppycock and she should go home, or she should stay and see if anything happened that she could gossip about in the morning. In the end, curiosity won through and, with an indignant huff, she resumed her seat.
“What do we do now?” Beatrice whispered to Miss Hepplethwaite when Madame Humphries had lapsed into silence and began to hum a nonsensical tune.
“Wait, dear. She hasn’t finished yet.” Miss Hepplethwaite had clearly experienced this before and had yet to take her eyes off her associate.
“What is that glow?” Constance whispered, more out of curiosity than fear.
“It is evidence that spirit is coming through. Keep quiet.”
Duly chastised, Harriett sat back in her chair and watched the spectacle. She was only vaguely aware of Mrs Bobbington groping around under her chair in search of the drink she had left their earlier, but couldn’t seem to tear her gaze aware from the strange vision of Madame Humphries, who was bathed in a green glow.
How could it be possible? What was it? She was fairly certain that spirit didn’t show themselves as green people. After all, the pictures of the good Lord and the angels in church depicted them all bathed in a white or yellow angelic glow. Where did green fit into it?
Suddenly, Mrs Bobbington began to make choking noises. A gurgled cough escaped her and she began to flail her arms around wildly.
“What’s the matter with her?” Babette gasped and tried to stand only to be yanked back down by Miss Hepplethwaite’s hold. She pulled her hands free with a glare and rose to her feet.
“What is it, Minerva? What’s wrong?” Mr Bentwhistle demanded. His voice was laced with panic when he moved to stand beside Minerva Bobbington, only for her to clutch wildly at his jacket with desperate fingers.
“Get the lights on somebody, I cannot see a blessed thing,” Miss Haversham boomed.
“What’s wrong with her? What is she doing?” Miss Smethwick snapped. She glanced around the room as though in search of divine inspiration but nobody bothered to answer her.
Madame Humphries made no attempt to move. With the gas lamps lit she didn’t glow any more, but nobody paid that much attention to her as she began to suck in huge gulps of air. Ever the faithful assistant, Miss Hepplethwaite rushed to her side and began to make soothing noises that were as nonsensical as the last few minutes.
Everyone’s attention was firmly fixed on Minerva Bobbington’s florid face. Harriett could see desperation in the older woman’s gaze and she stared around the room wide eyed. Her hands began to claw at her throat and she gurgled, coughed and tried to gasp as her puce face turned a deep purple.
Within seconds her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell face-forward onto the floor. Silence settled over the room.
“Someone go and get a doctor,” Mr Bentwhistle snapped as he dropped to his knees to study Minerva’s now mottled face. Her eyes were fixed wide and stared blankly at the fireplace in a way that told everyone that death had indeed come to Tipton Hollow tonight.
“Oh God, is she dead?” Harriett whispered. She didn’t need Mr Bentwhistle to confirm it; the horrified look on his face said it all.
“The spirits said,” Madame Humphries wailed. “They told us.”
“Oh, shut up woman,” Miss Haversham snapped. She removed the knee rug from the back of one of the wing
chairs beside the fire and draped it carefully over Minerva’s body once Mr Bentwhistle had closed her eyes.
“Is there nothing we can do?” Tuppence whispered but she knew there wasn’t.
“She is gone, my dear. Whatever took her was swift,” Mr Montague’s face was solemn and regretful as he studied the group. “There was nothing any of us could do to help her.”
