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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sight Unseen + +Author: Mary Roberts Rinehart + +Release Date: November 7, 2008 [EBook #1960] +Last Updated: October 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIGHT UNSEEN *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + SIGHT UNSEEN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Mary Roberts Rinehart + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> XI </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + The rather extraordinary story revealed by the experiments of the + Neighborhood Club have been until now a matter only of private record. But + it seems to me, as an active participant in the investigations, that they + should be given to the public; not so much for what they will add to the + existing data on psychical research, for from that angle they were not + unusual, but as yet another exploration into that still uncharted + territory, the human mind. + </p> + <p> + The psycho-analysts have taught us something about the individual mind. + They have their own patter, of complexes and primal instincts, of the + unconscious, which is a sort of bonded warehouse from which we + clandestinely withdraw our stored thoughts and impressions. They lay to + this unconscious mind of ours all phenomena that cannot otherwise be + labeled, and ascribe such demonstrations of power as cannot thus be + explained to trickery, to black silk threads and folding rods, to slates + with false sides and a medium with chalk on his finger nail. + </p> + <p> + In other words, they give us subjective mind but never objective mind. + They take the mind and its reactions on itself and on the body. But what + about objective mind? Does it make its only outward manifestations through + speech and action? Can we ignore the effect of mind on mind, when there + are present none of the ordinary media of communication? I think not. + </p> + <p> + In making the following statement concerning our part in the strange case + of Arthur Wells, a certain allowance must be made for our ignorance of + so-called psychic phenomena, and also for the fact that since that time, + just before the war, great advances have been made in scientific methods + of investigation. For instance, we did not place Miss Jeremy’s chair on a + scale, to measure for any loss of weight. Also the theory of rods of + invisible matter emanating from the medium’s body, to move bodies at a + distance from her, had only been evolved; and none of the methods for + calculation of leverages and strains had been formulated, so far as I + know. + </p> + <p> + To be frank, I am quite convinced that, even had we known of these + so-called explanations, which in reality explain nothing, we would have + ignored them as we became involved in the dramatic movement of the + revelations and the personal experiences which grew out of them. I confess + that following the night after the first seance any observations of mine + would have been of no scientific value whatever, and I believe I can speak + for the others also. + </p> + <p> + Of the medium herself I can only say that we have never questioned her + integrity. The physical phenomena occurred before she went into trance, + and during that time her forearms were rigid. During the deep trance, with + which this unusual record deals, she spoke in her own voice, but in a + querulous tone, and Sperry’s examination of her pulse showed that it went + from eighty normal to a hundred and twenty and very feeble. + </p> + <p> + With this preface I come to the death of Arthur Wells, our acquaintance + and neighbor, and the investigation into that death by a group of six + earnest people who call themselves the Neighborhood Club. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The Neighborhood Club was organized in my house. It was too small really + to be called a club, but women have a way these days of conferring a + titular dignity on their activities, and it is not so bad, after all. The + Neighborhood Club it really was, composed of four of our neighbors, my + wife, and myself. + </p> + <p> + We had drifted into the habit of dining together on Monday evenings at the + different houses. There were Herbert Robinson and his sister Alice—not + a young woman, but clever, alert, and very alive; Sperry, the well-known + heart specialist, a bachelor still in spite of much feminine activity; and + there was old Mrs. Dane, hopelessly crippled as to the knees with + rheumatism, but one of those glowing and kindly souls that have a way of + being a neighborhood nucleus. It was around her that we first gathered, + with an idea of forming for her certain contact points with the active + life from which she was otherwise cut off. But she gave us, I am sure, + more than we brought her, and, as will be seen later, her shrewdness was + an important element in solving our mystery. + </p> + <p> + In addition to these four there were my wife and myself. + </p> + <p> + It had been our policy to take up different subjects for these + neighborhood dinners. Sperry was a reformer in his way, and on his nights + we generally took up civic questions. He was particularly interested in + the responsibility of the state to the sick poor. My wife and I had + “political” evenings. Not really politics, except in their relation to + life. I am a lawyer by profession, and dabble a bit in city government. + The Robinsons had literature. + </p> + <p> + Don’t misunderstand me. We had no papers, no set programs. On the Robinson + evenings we discussed editorials and current periodicals, as well as the + new books and plays. We were frequently acrimonious, I fear, but our small + wrangles ended with the evening. Robinson was the literary editor of a + paper, and his sister read for a large publishing house. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dane was a free-lance. “Give me that privilege,” she begged. “At + least, until you find my evenings dull. It gives me, during all the week + before you come, a sort of thrilling feeling that the world is mine to + choose from.” The result was never dull. She led us all the way from + moving-pictures to modern dress. She led us even further, as you will see. + </p> + <p> + On consulting my note-book I find that the first evening which directly + concerns the Arthur Wells case was Monday, November the second, of last + year. + </p> + <p> + It was a curious day, to begin with. There come days, now and then, that + bring with them a strange sort of mental excitement. I have never analyzed + them. With me on this occasion it took the form of nervous irritability, + and something of apprehension. My wife, I remember, complained of + headache, and one of the stenographers had a fainting attack. + </p> + <p> + I have often wondered for how much of what happened to Arthur Wells the + day was responsible. There are days when the world is a place for love and + play and laughter. And then there are sinister days, when the earth is a + hideous place, when even the thought of immortality is unbearable, and + life itself a burden; when all that is riotous and unlawful comes forth + and bares itself to the light. + </p> + <p> + This was such a day. + </p> + <p> + I am fond of my friends, but I found no pleasure in the thought of meeting + them that evening. I remembered the odious squeak in the wheels of Mrs. + Dane’s chair. I resented the way Sperry would clear his throat. I read in + the morning paper Herbert Robinson’s review of a book I had liked, and + disagreed with him. Disagreed violently. I wanted to call him on the + telephone and tell him that he was a fool. I felt old, although I am only + fifty-three, old and bitter, and tired. + </p> + <p> + With the fall of twilight, things changed somewhat. I was more passive. + Wretchedness encompassed me, but I was not wretched. There was violence in + the air, but I was not violent. And with a bath and my dinner clothes I + put away the horrors of the day. + </p> + <p> + My wife was better, but the cook had given notice. + </p> + <p> + “There has been quarreling among the servants all day,” my wife said. “I + wish I could go and live on a desert island.” + </p> + <p> + We have no children, and my wife, for lack of other interests, finds her + housekeeping an engrossing and serious matter. She is in the habit of + bringing her domestic difficulties to me when I reach home in the + evenings, a habit which sometimes renders me unjustly indignant. Most + unjustly, for she has borne with me for thirty years and is known + throughout the entire neighborhood as a perfect housekeeper. I can close + my eyes and find any desired article in my bedroom at any time. + </p> + <p> + We passed the Wellses’ house on our way to Mrs. Dane’s that night, and my + wife commented on the dark condition of the lower floor. + </p> + <p> + “Even if they are going out,” she said, “it would add to the appearance of + the street to leave a light or two burning. But some people have no public + feeling.” + </p> + <p> + I made no comment, I believe. The Wellses were a young couple, with + children, and had been known to observe that they considered the + neighborhood “stodgy.” And we had retaliated, I regret to say, in kind, + but not with any real unkindness, by regarding them as interlopers. They + drove too many cars, and drove them too fast; they kept a governess and + didn’t see enough of their children; and their English butler made our + neat maids look commonplace. + </p> + <p> + There is generally, in every old neighborhood, some one house on which is + fixed, so to speak, the community gaze, and in our case it was on the + Arthur Wellses’. It was a curious, not unfriendly staring, much I daresay + like that of the old robin who sees two young wild canaries building near + her. + </p> + <p> + We passed the house, and went on to Mrs. Dane’s. + </p> + <p> + She had given us no inkling of what we were to have that night, and my + wife conjectured a conjurer! She gave me rather a triumphant smile when we + were received in the library and the doors into the drawing-room were seen + to be tightly closed. + </p> + <p> + We were early, as my wife is a punctual person, and soon after our arrival + Sperry came. Mrs. Dane was in her chair as usual, with her companion in + attendance, and when she heard Sperry’s voice outside she excused herself + and was wheeled out to him, and together we heard them go into the + drawing-room. When the Robinsons arrived she and Sperry reappeared, and we + waited for her customary announcement of the evening’s program. When none + came, even during the meal, I confess that my curiosity was almost + painful. + </p> + <p> + I think, looking back, that it was Sperry who turned the talk to the + supernatural, and that, to the accompaniment of considerable gibing by the + men, he told a ghost story that set the women to looking back over their + shoulders into the dark corners beyond the zone of candle-light. All of + us, I remember, except Sperry and Mrs. Dane, were skeptical as to the + supernatural, and Herbert Robinson believed that while there were + so-called sensitives who actually went into trance, the controls which + took possession of them were buried personalities of their own, released + during trance from the sub-conscious mind. + </p> + <p> + “If not,” he said truculently, “if they are really spirits, why can’t they + tell us what is going on, not in some vague place where they are always + happy, but here and now, in the next house? I don’t ask for prophecy, but + for some evidence of their knowledge. Are the Germans getting ready to + fight England? Is Horace here the gay dog some of us suspect?” + </p> + <p> + As I am the Horace in question, I must explain that Herbert was merely + being facetious. My life is a most orderly and decorous one. But my wife, + unfortunately, lacks a sense of humor, and I felt that the remark might + have been more fortunate. + </p> + <p> + “Physical phenomena!” scoffed the cynic. “I’ve seen it all—objects + moving without visible hands, unexplained currents of cold air, voice + through a trumpet—I know the whole rotten mess, and I’ve got a book + which tells how to do all the tricks. I’ll bring it along some night.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dane smiled, and the discussion was dropped for a time. It was during + the coffee and cigars that Mrs. Dane made her announcement. As Alice + Robinson takes an after-dinner cigarette, a custom my wife greatly + deplores, the ladies had remained with us at the table. + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact, Herbert,” she said, “we intend to put your + skepticism to the test tonight. Doctor Sperry has found a medium for us, a + non-professional and a patient of his, and she has kindly consented to + give us a sitting.” + </p> + <p> + Herbert wheeled and looked at Sperry. + </p> + <p> + “Hold up your right hand and state by your honor as a member in good + standing that you have not primed her, Sperry.” + </p> + <p> + Sperry held up his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely not,” he said, gravely. “She is coming in my car. She doesn’t + know to what house or whose. She knows none of you. She is a stranger to + the city, and she will not even recognize the neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + The butler wheeled out Mrs. Dane’s chair, as her companion did not dine + with her on club nights, and led us to the drawing-room doors. There + Sperry threw them, open, and we saw that the room had been completely + metamorphosed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dane’s drawing-room is generally rather painful. Kindly soul that she + is, she has considered it necessary to preserve and exhibit there the many + gifts of a long lifetime. Photographs long outgrown, onyx tables, a + clutter of odd chairs and groups of discordant bric-a-brac usually make + the progress of her chair through it a precarious and perilous matter. We + paused in the doorway, startled. + </p> + <p> + The room had been dismantled. It opened before us, walls and chimney-piece + bare, rugs gone from the floor, even curtains taken from the windows. To + emphasize the change, in the center stood a common pine table, surrounded + by seven plain chairs. All the lights were out save one, a corner bracket, + which was screened with a red-paper shade. + </p> + <p> + She watched our faces with keen satisfaction. “Such a time I had doing + it!” she said. “The servants, of course, think I have gone mad. All except + Clara. I told her. She’s a sensible girl.” + </p> + <p> + Herbert chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “Very neat,” he said, “although a chair or two for the spooks would have + been no more than hospitable. All right. Now bring on your ghosts.” + </p> + <p> + My wife, however, looked slightly displeased. “As a church-woman,” she + said, “I really feel that it is positively impious to bring back the souls + of the departed, before they are called from on High.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, rats,” Herbert broke in rudely. “They’ll not come. Don’t worry. And + if you hear raps, don’t worry. It will probably be the medium cracking the + joint of her big toe.” + </p> + <p> + There was still a half hour until the medium’s arrival. At Mrs. Dane’s + direction we employed it in searching the room. It was the ordinary + rectangular drawing-room, occupying a corner of the house. Two windows at + the end faced on the street, with a patch of railed-in lawn beneath them. + A fire-place with a dying fire and flanked by two other windows, occupied + the long side opposite the door into the hall. These windows, opening on a + garden, were closed by outside shutters, now bolted. The third side was a + blank wall, beyond which lay the library. On the fourth side were the + double doors into the hall. + </p> + <p> + As, although the results we obtained were far beyond any expectations, the + purely physical phenomena were relatively insignificant, it is not + necessary to go further into the detail of the room. Robinson has done + that, anyhow, for the Society of Psychical Research, a proceeding to which + I was opposed, as will be understood by the close of the narrative. + </p> + <p> + Further to satisfy Mrs. Dane, we examined the walls and floor-boards + carefully, and Herbert, armed with a candle, went down to the cellar and + investigated from below, returning to announce in a loud voice which made + us all jump that it seemed all clear enough down there. After that we sat + and waited, and I daresay the bareness and darkness of the room put us + into excellent receptive condition. I know that I myself, probably owing + to an astigmatism, once or twice felt that I saw wavering shadows in + corners, and I felt again some of the strangeness I had felt during the + day. We spoke in whispers, and Alice Robinson recited the history of a + haunted house where she had visited in England. But Herbert was still + cynical. He said, I remember: + </p> + <p> + “Here we are, six intelligent persons of above the average grade, and in a + few minutes our hair will be rising and our pulses hammering while a + Choctaw Indian control, in atrocious English, will tell us she is happy + and we are happy and so everybody’s happy. Hanky panky!” + </p> + <p> + “You may be as skeptical as you please, if you will only be fair, + Herbert,” Mrs. Dane said. + </p> + <p> + “And by that you mean—” + </p> + <p> + “During the sitting keep an open mind and a closed mouth,” she replied, + cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + As I said at the beginning, this is not a ghost story. Parts of it we now + understand, other parts we do not. For the physical phenomena we have no + adequate explanation. They occurred. We saw and heard them. For the other + part of the seance we have come to a conclusion satisfactory to ourselves, + a conclusion not reached, however, until some of us had gone through some + dangerous experiences, and had been brought into contact with things + hitherto outside the orderly progression of our lives. + </p> + <p> + But at no time, although incredible things happened, did any one of us + glimpse that strange world of the spirit that seemed so often almost + within our range of vision. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jeremy, the medium, was due at 8:30 and at 8:20 my wife assisted Mrs. + Dane into one of the straight chairs at the table, and Sperry, sent out by + her, returned with a darkish bundle in his arms, and carrying a light + bamboo rod. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me what they are for,” he said to Herbert’s grin of amusement. + “Every workman has his tools.” + </p> + <p> + Herbert examined the rod, but it was what it appeared to be, and nothing + else. + </p> + <p> + Some one had started the phonograph in the library, and it was playing + gloomily, “Shall we meet beyond the river?” At Sperry’s request we stopped + talking and composed ourselves, and Herbert, I remember, took a tablet of + some sort, to our intense annoyance, and crunched it in his teeth. Then + Miss Jeremy came in. + </p> + <p> + She was not at all what we had expected. Twenty-six, I should say, and in + a black dinner dress. She seemed like a perfectly normal young woman, even + attractive in a fragile, delicate way. Not much personality, perhaps; the + very word “medium” precludes that. A “sensitive,” I think she called + herself. We were presented to her, and but for the stripped and bare room, + it might have been any evening after any dinner, with bridge waiting. + </p> + <p> + When she shook hands with me she looked at me keenly. “What a strange day + it has been!” she said. “I have been very nervous. I only hope I can do + what you want this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all sure what we do want, Miss Jeremy,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + She smiled a quick smile that was not without humor. Somehow I had never + thought of a medium with a sense of humor. I liked her at once. We all + liked her, and Sperry, Sperry the bachelor, the iconoclast, the + antifeminist, was staring at her with curiously intent eyes. + </p> + <p> + Following her entrance Herbert had closed and bolted the drawing-room + doors, and as an added precaution he now drew Mrs. Dane’s empty wheeled + chair across them. + </p> + <p> + “Anything that comes in,” he boasted, “will come through the keyhole or + down the chimney.” + </p> + <p> + And then, eying the fireplace, he deliberately took a picture from the + wall and set it on the fender. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jeremy gave the room only the most casual of glances. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I sit?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dane indicated her place, and she asked for a small stand to be + brought in and placed about two feet behind her chair, and two chairs to + flank it, and then to take the black cloth from the table and hang it over + the bamboo rod, which was laid across the backs of the chairs. Thus + arranged, the curtain formed a low screen behind her, with the stand + beyond it. On this stand we placed, at her order, various articles from + our pockets—I a fountain pen, Sperry a knife; and my wife + contributed a gold bracelet. + </p> + <p> + We all felt, I fancy, rather absurd. Herbert’s smile in the dim light + became a grin. “The same old thing!” he whispered to me. “Watch her + closely. They do it with a folding rod.” + </p> + <p> + We arranged between us that we were to sit one on each side of her, and + Sperry warned me not to let go of her hand for a moment. “They have a way + of switching hands,” he explained in a whisper. “If she wants to scratch + her nose I’ll scratch it.” + </p> + <p> + We were, we discovered, not to touch the table, but to sit around it at a + distance of a few inches, holding hands and thus forming the circle. And + for twenty minutes we sat thus, and nothing happened. She was fully + conscious and even spoke once or twice, and at last she moved impatiently + and told us to put our hands on the table. + </p> + <p> + I had put my opened watch on the table before me, a night watch with a + luminous dial. At five minutes after nine I felt the top of the table + waver under my fingers, a curious, fluid-like motion. + </p> + <p> + “The table is going to move,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Herbert laughed, a dry little chuckle. “Sure it is,” he said. “When we all + get to acting together, it will probably do considerable moving. I feel + what you feel. It’s flowing under my fingers.” + </p> + <p> + “Blood,” said Sperry. “You fellows feel the blood moving through the ends + of your fingers. That’s all. Don’t be impatient.” + </p> + <p> + However, curiously enough, the table did not move. Instead, my watch, + before my eyes, slid to the edge of the table and dropped to the floor, + and almost instantly an object, which we recognized later as Sperry’s + knife, was flung over the curtain and struck the wall behind Mrs. Dane + violently. + </p> + <p> + One of the women screamed, ending in a hysterical giggle. Then we heard + rhythmic beating on the top of the stand behind the medium. Startling as + it was at the beginning, increasing as it did from a slow beat to an + incredibly rapid drumming, when the initial shock was over Herbert + commenced to gibe. + </p> + <p> + “Your fountain pen, Horace,” he said to me. “Making out a statement for + services rendered, by its eagerness.” + </p> + <p> + The answer to that was the pen itself, aimed at him with apparent + accuracy, and followed by an outcry from him. + </p> + <p> + “Here, stop it!” he said. “I’ve got ink all over me!” + </p> + <p> + We laughed consumedly. The sitting had taken on all the attributes of + practical joking. The table no longer quivered under my hands. + </p> + <p> + “Please be sure you are holding my hands tight. Hold them very tight,” + said Miss Jeremy. Her voice sounded faint and far away. Her head was + dropped forward on her chest, and she suddenly sagged in her chair. Sperry + broke the circle and coming to her, took her pulse. It was, he reported, + very rapid. + </p> + <p> + “You can move and talk now if you like,” he said. “She’s in trance, and + there will be no more physical demonstrations.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dane was the first to speak. I was looking for my fountain pen, and + Herbert was again examining the stand. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it now,” Mrs. Dane said. “I saw your watch go, Horace, but + tomorrow I won’t believe it at all.” + </p> + <p> + “How about your companion?” I asked. “Can she take shorthand? We ought to + have a record.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably not in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “We can have some light now,” Sperry said. + </p> + <p> + There was a sort of restrained movement in the room now. Herbert turned on + a bracket light, and I moved away the roller chair. + </p> + <p> + “Go and get Clara, Horace,” Mrs. Dane said to me, “and have her bring a + note-book and pencil.” Nothing, I believe, happened during my absence. + Miss Jeremy was sunk in her chair and breathing heavily when I came back + with Clara, and Sperry was still watching her pulse. Suddenly my wife + said: + </p> + <p> + “Why, look! She’s wearing my bracelet!” + </p> + <p> + This proved to be the case, and was, I regret to say, the cause of a most + unjust suspicion on my wife’s part. Even today, with all the knowledge she + possesses, I am certain that Mrs. Johnson believes that some mysterious + power took my watch and dragged it off the table, and threw the pen, but + that I myself under cover of darkness placed her bracelet on Miss Jeremy’s + arm. I can only reiterate here what I have told her many times, that I + never touched the bracelet after it was placed on the stand. + </p> + <p> + “Take down everything that happens, Clara, and all we say,” Mrs. Dane said + in a low tone. “Even if it sounds like nonsense, put it down.” + </p> + <p> + It is because Clara took her orders literally that I am making this more + readable version of her script. There was a certain amount of + non-pertinent matter which would only cloud the statement if rendered word + for word, and also certain scattered, unrelated words with which many of + the statements terminated. For instance, at the end of the sentence, “Just + above the ear,” came a number of rhymes to the final word, “dear, near, + fear, rear, cheer, three cheers.” These I have cut, for the sake of + clearness. + </p> + <p> + For some five minutes, perhaps, Miss Jeremy breathed stertorously, and it + was during that interval that we introduced Clara and took up our + positions. Sperry sat near the medium now, having changed places with + Herbert, and the rest of us were as we had been, save that we no longer + touched hands. Suddenly Miss Jeremy began to breathe more quietly, and to + move about in her chair. Then she sat upright. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, friends,” she said. “I am glad to see you all again.” + </p> + <p> + I caught Herbert’s eye, and he grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, little Bright Eyes,” he said. “How’s everything in the + happy hunting ground tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “Dark and cold,” she said. “Dark and cold. And the knee hurts. It’s very + bad. If the key is on the nail—Arnica will take the pain out.” + </p> + <p> + She lapsed into silence. In transcribing Clara’s record I shall make no + reference to these pauses, which were frequent, and occasionally filled in + with extraneous matter. For instance, once there was what amounted to five + minutes of Mother Goose jingles. Our method was simply one of question, by + one of ourselves, and of answer by Miss Jeremy. These replies were usually + in a querulous tone, and were often apparently unwilling. Also + occasionally there was a bit of vernacular, as in the next reply. Herbert, + who was still flippantly amused, said: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t bother about your knee. Give us some local stuff. Gossip. If you + can.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure I can, and it will make your hair curl.” Then suddenly there was a + sort of dramatic pause and then an outburst. + </p> + <p> + “He’s dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is dead?” Sperry asked, with his voice drawn a trifle thin. + </p> + <p> + “A bullet just above the ear. That’s a bad place. Thank goodness there’s + not much blood. Cold water will take it out of the carpet. Not hot. Not + hot. Do you want to set the stain?” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” Sperry said, looking around the table. “I don’t like this. + It’s darned grisly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fudge!” Herbert put in irreverently. “Let her rave, or it, or + whatever it is. Do you mean that a man is dead?”—to the medium. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She has the revolver. She needn’t cry so. He was cruel to her. He + was a beast. Sullen.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you see the woman?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “If it’s sent out to be cleaned it will cause trouble. Hang it in the + closet.” + </p> + <p> + Herbert muttered something about the movies having nothing on us, and was + angrily hushed. There was something quite outside of Miss Jeremy’s words + that had impressed itself on all of us with a sense of unexpected but very + real tragedy. As I look back I believe it was a sort of desperation in her + voice. But then came one of those interruptions which were to annoy us + considerably during the series of sittings; she began to recite Childe + Harold. + </p> + <p> + When that was over, + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” Sperry said in a businesslike voice, “you see a dead man, and + a young woman with him. Can you describe the room?” + </p> + <p> + “A small room, his dressing-room. He was shaving. There is still lather on + his face.” + </p> + <p> + “And the woman killed him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know. No, she didn’t. He did it!” + </p> + <p> + “He did it himself?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer to that, but a sort of sulky silence. + </p> + <p> + “Are you getting this, Clara?” Mrs. Dane asked sharply. “Don’t miss a + word. Who knows what this may develop into?” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the secretary, and it was clear that she was terrified. I got + up and took my chair to her. Coming back, I picked up my forgotten watch + from the floor. It was still going, and the hands marked nine-thirty. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” Sperry said in a soothing tone, “you said there was a shot fired + and a man was killed. Where was this? What house?” + </p> + <p> + “Two shots. One is in the ceiling of the dressing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “And the other killed him?” + </p> + <p> + But here, instead of a reply we got the words, “library paste.” + </p> + <p> + Quite without warning the medium groaned, and Sperry believed the trance + was over. + </p> + <p> + “She’s coming out,” he said. “A glass of wine, somebody.” But she did not + come out. Instead, she twisted in the chair. + </p> + <p> + “He’s so heavy to lift,” she muttered. Then: “Get the lather off his face. + The lather. The lather.” + </p> + <p> + She subsided into the chair and began to breathe with difficulty. “I want + to go out. I want air. If I could only go to sleep and forget it. The + drawing-room furniture is scattered over the house.” + </p> + <p> + This last sentence she repeated over and over. It got on our nerves, + ragged already. + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell us about the house?” + </p> + <p> + There was a distinct pause. Then: “Certainly. A brick house. The servants’ + entrance is locked, but the key is on a nail, among the vines. All the + furniture is scattered through the house.” + </p> + <p> + “She must mean the furniture of this room,” Mrs. Dane whispered. + </p> + <p> + The remainder of the sitting was chaotic. The secretary’s notes consist of + unrelated words and often childish verses. On going over the notes the + next day, when the stenographic record had been copied on a typewriter, + Sperry and I found that one word recurred frequently. The word was + “curtain.” Of the extraordinary event that followed the breaking up of the + seance, I have the keenest recollection. Miss Jeremy came out of her + trance weak and looking extremely ill, and Sperry’s motor took her home. + She knew nothing of what had happened, and hoped we had been satisfied. By + agreement, we did not tell her what had transpired, and she was not + curious. + </p> + <p> + Herbert saw her to the car, and came back, looking grave. We were standing + together in the center of the dismantled room, with the lights going full + now. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “it is one of two things. Either we’ve been gloriously + faked, or we’ve been let in on a very tidy little crime.” + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs. Dane’s custom to serve a Southern eggnog as a sort of + stir-up-cup—nightcap, she calls it—on her evenings, and we + found it waiting for us in the library. In the warmth of its open fire, + and the cheer of its lamps, even in the dignity and impassiveness of the + butler, there was something sane and wholesome. The women of the party + reacted quickly, but I looked over to see Sperry at a corner desk, + intently working over a small object in the palm of his hand. + </p> + <p> + He started when he heard me, then laughed and held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Library paste!” he said. “It rolls into a soft, malleable ball. It could + quite easily be used to fill a small hole in plaster. The paper would + paste down over it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not thinking at all. The thing she described may have taken place in + Timbuctoo. May have happened ten years ago. May be the plot of some book + she has read.” + </p> + <p> + “On the other hand,” I replied, “it is just possible that it was here, in + this neighborhood, while we were sitting in that room.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea of the time?” + </p> + <p> + “I know exactly. It was half-past nine.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + At midnight, shortly after we reached home, Sperry called me on the phone. + “Be careful, Horace,” he said. “Don’t let Mrs. Horace think anything has + happened. I want to see you at once. Suppose you say I have a patient in a + bad way, and a will to be drawn.” + </p> + <p> + I listened to sounds from upstairs. I heard my wife go into her room and + close the door. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me something about it,” I urged. + </p> + <p> + “Just this. Arthur Wells killed himself tonight, shot himself in the head. + I want you to go there with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur Wells!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I say, Horace, did you happen to notice the time the seance began + tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “It was five minutes after nine when my watch fell.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it would have been about half past when the trance began?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence at Sperry’s end of the wire. Then: + </p> + <p> + “He was shot about 9:30,” he said, and rang off. + </p> + <p> + I am not ashamed to confess that my hands shook as I hung up the receiver. + A brick house, she had said; the Wells house was brick. And so were all + the other houses on the street. Vines in the back? Well, even my own house + had vines. It was absurd; it was pure coincidence; it was—well, I + felt it was queer. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, as I stood there, I wondered for the first time in a highly + material existence, whether there might not be, after all, a spirit-world + surrounding us, cognizant of all that we did, touching but intangible, + sentient but tuned above our common senses? + </p> + <p> + I stood by the prosaic telephone instrument and looked into the darkened + recesses of the passage. It seemed to my disordered nerves that back of + the coats and wraps that hung on the rack, beyond the heavy curtains, in + every corner, there lurked vague and shadowy forms, invisible when I + stared, but advancing a trifle from their obscurity when, by turning my + head and looking ahead, they impinged on the extreme right or left of my + field of vision. + </p> + <p> + I was shocked by the news, but not greatly grieved. The Wellses had been + among us but not of us, as I have said. They had come, like gay young + comets, into our orderly constellation, trailing behind them their cars + and servants, their children and governesses and rather riotous friends, + and had flashed on us in a sort of bright impermanence. + </p> + <p> + Of the two, I myself had preferred Arthur. His faults were on the surface. + He drank hard, gambled, and could not always pay his gambling debts. But + underneath it all there had always been something boyishly honest about + him. He had played, it is true, through most of the thirty years that now + marked his whole life, but he could have been made a man by the right + woman. And he had married the wrong one. + </p> + <p> + Of Elinor Wells I have only my wife’s verdict, and I have found that, as + is the way with many good women, her judgments of her own sex are rather + merciless. A tall, handsome girl, very dark, my wife has characterized her + as cold, calculating and ambitious. She has said frequently, too, that + Elinor Wells was a disappointed woman, that her marriage, while giving her + social identity, had disappointed her in a monetary way. Whether that is + true or not, there was no doubt, by the time they had lived in our + neighborhood for a year, that a complication had arisen in the shape of + another man. + </p> + <p> + My wife, on my return from my office in the evening, had been quite likely + to greet me with: + </p> + <p> + “Horace, he has been there all afternoon. I really think something should + be done about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who has been where?” I would ask, I am afraid not too patiently. + </p> + <p> + “You know perfectly well. And I think you ought to tell him.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of her vague pronouns, I understood, and in a more masculine way + I shared her sense of outrage. Our street has never had a scandal on it, + except the one when the Berringtons’ music teacher ran away with their + coachman, in the days of carriages. And I am glad to say that that is + almost forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, we had realized for some time that the dreaded triangle was + threatening the repute of our quiet neighborhood, and as I stood by the + telephone that night I saw that it had come. More than that, it seemed + very probable that into this very triangle our peaceful Neighborhood Club + had been suddenly thrust. + </p> + <p> + My wife accepted my excuse coldly. She dislikes intensely the occasional + outside calls of my profession. She merely observed, however, that she + would leave all the lights on until my return. “I should think you could + arrange things better, Horace,” she added. “It’s perfectly idiotic the way + people die at night. And tonight, of all nights!” + </p> + <p> + I shall have to confess that through all of the thirty years of our + married life my wife has clung to the belief that I am a bit of a dog. + Thirty years of exemplary living have not affected this conviction, nor + had Herbert’s foolish remark earlier in the evening helped matters. But + she watched me put on my overcoat without further comment. When I kissed + her good-night, however, she turned her cheek. + </p> + <p> + The street, with its open spaces, was a relief after the dark hall. I + started for Sperry’s house, my head bent against the wind, my mind on the + news I had just heard. Was it, I wondered, just possible that we had for + some reason been allowed behind the veil which covered poor Wells’ last + moments? And, to admit that for a moment, where would what we had heard + lead us? Sperry had said he had killed himself. But—suppose he had + not? + </p> + <p> + I realize now, looking back, that my recollection of the other man in the + triangle is largely colored by the fact that he fell in the great war. At + that time I hardly knew him, except as a wealthy and self-made man in his + late thirties; I saw him now and then, in the club playing billiards or + going in and out of the Wells house, a large, fastidiously dressed man, + strong featured and broad shouldered, with rather too much manner. I + remember particularly how I hated the light spats he affected, and the + glaring yellow gloves. + </p> + <p> + A man who would go straight for the thing he wanted, woman or power or + money. And get it. + </p> + <p> + Sperry was waiting on his door-step, and we went on to the Wells house. + What with the magnitude of the thing that had happened, and our mutual + feeling that we were somehow involved in it, we were rather silent. Sperry + asked one question, however, “Are you certain about the time when Miss + Jeremy saw what looks like this thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. My watch fell at five minutes after nine. When it was all + over, and I picked it up, it was still going, and it was 9:30.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. Then: + </p> + <p> + “The Wellses’ nursery governess telephoned for me at 9:35. We keep a + record of the time of all calls.” + </p> + <p> + Sperry is a heart specialist, I think I have said, with offices in his + house. + </p> + <p> + And, a block or so farther on: “I suppose it was bound to come. To tell + the truth, I didn’t think the boy had the courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think he did it?” + </p> + <p> + “They say so,” he said grimly. And added,—irritably: “Good heavens, + Horace, we must keep that other fool thing out of our minds.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I agreed. “We must.” + </p> + <p> + Although the Wells house was brilliantly lighted when we reached it, we + had difficulty in gaining admission. Whoever were in the house were + up-stairs, and the bell evidently rang in the deserted kitchen or a + neighboring pantry. + </p> + <p> + “We might try the servants’ entrance,” Sperry said. Then he laughed + mirthlessly. + </p> + <p> + “We might see,” he said, “if there’s a key on the nail among the vines.” + </p> + <p> + I confess to a nervous tightening of my muscles as we made our way around + the house. If the key was there, we were on the track of a revelation that + might revolutionize much that we had held fundamental in science and in + our knowledge of life itself. If, sitting in Mrs. Dane’s quiet room, a + woman could tell us what was happening in a house a mile or so away, it + opened up a new earth. Almost a new heaven. + </p> + <p> + I stopped and touched Sperry’s arm. “This Miss Jeremy—did she know + Arthur Wells or Elinor? If she knew the house, and the situation between + them, isn’t it barely possible that she anticipated this thing?” + </p> + <p> + “We knew them,” he said gruffly, “and whatever we anticipated, it wasn’t + this.” + </p> + <p> + Sperry had a pocket flash, and when we found the door locked we proceeded + with our search for the key. The porch had been covered with heavy vines, + now dead of the November frosts, and showing, here and there, dead and + dried leaves that crackled as we touched them. In the darkness something + leaped against, me, and I almost cried out. It was, however, only a collie + dog, eager for the warmth of his place by the kitchen fire. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the key,” Sperry said, and held it out. The flash wavered in his + hand, and his voice was strained. + </p> + <p> + “So far, so good,” I replied, and was conscious that my own voice rang + strange in my ears. + </p> + <p> + We admitted ourselves, and the dog, bounding past us, gave a sharp yelp of + gratitude and ran into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Sperry,” I said, as we stood inside the door, “they don’t want + me here. They’ve sent for you, but I’m the most casual sort of an + acquaintance. I haven’t any business here.” + </p> + <p> + That struck him, too. We had both been so obsessed with the scene at Mrs. + Dane’s that we had not thought of anything else. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you sit down in the library,” he said. “The chances are against + her coming down, and the servants don’t matter.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, we learned later that all the servants were out + except the nursery governess. There were two small children. There was a + servants’ ball somewhere, and, with the exception of the butler, it was + after two before they commenced to straggle in. Except two plain-clothes + men from the central office, a physician who was with Elinor in her room, + and the governess, there was no one else in the house but the children, + asleep in the nursery. + </p> + <p> + As I sat alone in the library, the house was perfectly silent. But in some + strange fashion it had apparently taken on the attributes of the deed that + had preceded the silence. It was sinister, mysterious, dark. Its immediate + effect on my imagination was apprehension—almost terror. Murder or + suicide, here among the shadows a soul, an indestructible thing, had been + recently violently wrenched from its body. The body lay in the room + overhead. But what of the spirit? I shivered as I thought that it might + even then be watching me with formless eyes from some dark corner. + </p> + <p> + Overwrought as I was, I was forced to bring my common sense to bear on the + situation. Here was a tragedy, a real and terrible one. Suppose we had, in + some queer fashion, touched its outer edges that night? Then how was it + that there had come, mixed up with so much that might be pertinent, such + extraneous and grotesque things as Childe Harold, a hurt knee, and Mother + Goose? + </p> + <p> + I remember moving impatiently, and trying to argue myself into my ordinary + logical state of mind, but I know now that even then I was wondering + whether Sperry had found a hole in the ceiling upstairs. + </p> + <p> + I wandered, I recall, into the realm of the clairvoyant and the + clairaudient. Under certain conditions, such as trance, I knew that some + individuals claimed a power of vision that was supernormal, and I had at + one time lunched at my club with a well-dressed gentleman in a pince nez + who said the room was full of people I could not see, but who were + perfectly distinct to him. He claimed, and I certainly could not refute + him, that he saw further into the violet of the spectrum than the rest of + us, and seemed to consider it nothing unusual when an elderly woman, whose + description sounded much like my great-grand-mother, came and stood behind + my chair. + </p> + <p> + I recall that he said she was stroking my hair, and that following that I + had a distinctly creepy sensation along my scalp. + </p> + <p> + Then there were those who claimed that in trance the spirit of the medium, + giving place to a control, was free to roam whither it would, and, + although I am not sure of this, that it wandered in the fourth dimension. + While I am very vague about the fourth dimension, I did know that in it + doors and walls were not obstacles. But as they would not be obstacles to + a spirit, even in the world as we know it, that got me nowhere. + </p> + <p> + Suppose Sperry came down and said Arthur Wells had been shot above the + ear, and that there was a second bullet hole in the ceiling? Added to the + key on the nail, a careless custom and surely not common, we would have + conclusive proof that our medium had been correct. There was another + point, too. Miss Jeremy had said, “Get the lather off his face.” + </p> + <p> + That brought me up with a turn. Would a man stop shaving to kill himself? + If he did, why a revolver? Why not the razor in his hand? + </p> + <p> + I knew from my law experience that suicide is either a desperate impulse + or a cold-blooded and calculated finality. A man who kills himself while + dressing comes under the former classification, and will usually seize the + first method at hand. But there was something else, too. Shaving is an + automatic process. It completes itself. My wife has an irritated + conviction that if the house caught fire while I was in the midst of the + process, I would complete it and rinse the soap from my face before I + caught up the fire-extinguisher. + </p> + <p> + Had he killed himself, or had Elinor killed him? Was she the sort to + sacrifice herself to a violent impulse? Would she choose the hard way, + when there was the easy one of the divorce court? I thought not. And the + same was true of Ellingham. Here were two people, both of them careful of + appearance, if not of fact. There was another possibility, too. That he + had learned something while he was dressing, had attacked or threatened + her with a razor, and she had killed him in self-defence. + </p> + <p> + I had reached that point when Sperry came down the staircase, ushering out + the detectives and the medical man. He came to the library door and stood + looking at me, with his face rather paler than usual. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take you up now,” he said. “She’s in her room, in bed, and she has + had an opiate.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he shot above the ear?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + I did not look at him, nor he at me. We climbed the stairs and entered the + room, where, according to Elinor’s story, Arthur Wells had killed himself. + It was a dressing-room, as Miss Jeremy had described. A wardrobe, a table + with books and magazines in disorder, two chairs, and a couch, constituted + the furnishings. Beyond was a bathroom. On a chair by a window the dead + mans’s evening clothes were neatly laid out, his shoes beneath. His top + hat and folded gloves were on the table. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Wells lay on the couch. A sheet had been drawn over the body, and I + did not disturb it. It gave the impression of unusual length that is + always found, I think, in the dead, and a breath of air from an open + window, by stirring the sheet, gave a false appearance of life beneath. + </p> + <p> + The house was absolutely still. + </p> + <p> + When I glanced at Sperry he was staring at the ceiling, and I followed his + eyes, but there was no mark on it. Sperry made a little gesture. + </p> + <p> + “It’s queer,” he muttered. “It’s—” + </p> + <p> + “The detective and I put him there. He was here.” He showed a place on the + floor midway of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Where was his head lying?” I asked, cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Here.” + </p> + <p> + I stooped and examined the carpet. It was a dark Oriental, with much red + in it. I touched the place, and then ran my folded handkerchief over it. + It came up stained with blood. + </p> + <p> + “There would be no object in using cold water there, so as not to set the + stain,” Sperry said thoughtfully. “Whether he fell there or not, that is + where she allowed him to be found.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t think he fell there?” + </p> + <p> + “She dragged him, didn’t she?” he demanded. Then the strangeness of what + he was saying struck him, and he smiled foolishly. “What I mean is, the + medium said she did. I don’t suppose any jury would pass us tonight as + entirely sane, Horace,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He walked across to the bathroom and surveyed it from the doorway. I + followed him. It was as orderly as the other room. On a glass shelf over + the wash-stand were his razors, a safety and, beside it, in a black case, + an assortment of the long-bladed variety, one for each day of the week, + and so marked. + </p> + <p> + Sperry stood thoughtfully in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “The servants are out,” he said. “According to Elinor’s statement he was + dressing when he did it. And yet some one has had a wild impulse for + tidiness here, since it happened. Not a towel out of place!” + </p> + <p> + It was in the bathroom that he told me Elinor’s story. According to her, + it was a simple case of suicide. And she was honest about it, in her own + way. She was shocked, but she was not pretending any wild grief. She + hadn’t wanted him to die, but she had not felt that they could go on much + longer together. There had been no quarrel other than their usual + bickering. They had been going to a dance that night. The servants had all + gone out immediately after dinner to a servants’ ball and the governess + had gone for a walk. She was to return at nine-thirty to fasten Elinor’s + gown and to be with the children. + </p> + <p> + Arthur, she said, had been depressed for several days, and at dinner had + hardly spoken at all. He had not, however, objected to the dance. He had, + indeed, seemed strangely determined to go, although she had pleaded a + headache. At nine o’clock he went upstairs, apparently to dress. + </p> + <p> + She was in her room, with the door shut, when she heard a shot. She ran in + and found him lying on the floor of his dressing-room with his revolver + behind him. The governess was still out. The shot had roused the children, + and they had come down from the nursery above. She was frantic, but she + had to soothe them. The governess, however, came in almost immediately, + and she had sent her to the telephone to summon help, calling Sperry first + of all, and then the police. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen the revolver?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It’s all right, apparently. Only one shot had been fired.” + </p> + <p> + “How soon did they get a doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been some time. They gave up telephoning, and the governess + went out, finally, and found one.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, while she was out—?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” Sperry said. “If we start with the hypothesis that she was + lying.” + </p> + <p> + “If she cleaned up here for any reason,” I began, and commenced a + desultory examination of the room. Just why I looked behind the bathtub + forces me to an explanation I am somewhat loath to make, but which will + explain a rather unusual proceeding. For some time my wife has felt that I + smoked too heavily, and out of her solicitude for me has limited me to one + cigar after dinner. But as I have been a heavy smoker for years I have + found this a great hardship, and have therefore kept a reserve store, by + arrangement with the housemaid, behind my tub. In self-defence I must also + state that I seldom have recourse to such stealthy measures. + </p> + <p> + Believing then that something might possibly be hidden there, I made an + investigation, and could see some small objects lying there. Sperry + brought me a stick from the dressing-room, and with its aid succeeded in + bringing out the two articles which were instrumental in starting us on + our brief but adventurous careers as private investigators. One was a + leather razor strop, old and stiff from disuse, and the other a wet bath + sponge, now stained with blood to a yellowish brown. + </p> + <p> + “She is lying, Sperry,” I said. “He fell somewhere else, and she dragged + him to where he was found.” + </p> + <p> + “But—why?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” I said impatiently. “From some place where a man would be + unlikely to kill himself, I daresay. No one ever killed himself, for + instance, in an open hallway. Or stopped shaving to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “We have only Miss Jeremy’s word for that,” he said, sullenly. “Confound + it, Horace, don’t let’s bring in that stuff if we can help it.” + </p> + <p> + We stared at each other, with the strop and the sponge between us. + Suddenly he turned on his heel and went back into the room, and a moment + later he called me, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “You’re right,” he said. “The poor devil was shaving. He had it half done. + Come and look.” + </p> + <p> + But I did not go. There was a carafe of water in the bathroom, and I took + a drink from it. My hands were shaking. When I turned around I found + Sperry in the hall, examining the carpet with his flash light, and now and + then stooping to run his hand over the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing here,” he said in a low tone, when I had joined him. “At least I + haven’t found anything.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + How much of Sperry’s proceeding with the carpet the governess had seen I + do not know. I glanced up and she was there, on the staircase to the third + floor, watching us. I did not know, then, whether she recognized me or + not, for the Wellses’ servants were as oblivious of the families on the + street as their employers. But she knew Sperry, and was ready enough to + talk to him. + </p> + <p> + “How is she now?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “She is sleeping, Mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “The children also.” + </p> + <p> + She came down the stairs, a lean young Frenchwoman in a dark dressing + gown, and Sperry suggested that she too should have an opiate. She seized + at the idea, but Sperry did not go down at once for his professional bag. + </p> + <p> + “You were not here when it occurred, Mademoiselle?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No, doctor. I had been out for a walk.” She clasped her hands. “When I + came back—” + </p> + <p> + “Was he still on the floor of the dressing-room when you came in?” + </p> + <p> + “But yes. Of course. She was alone. She could not lift him.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Sperry said thoughtfully. “No, I daresay she couldn’t. Was the + revolver on the floor also?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, doctor. I myself picked it up.” + </p> + <p> + To Sperry she showed, I observed, a slight deference, but when she glanced + at me, as she did after each reply, I thought her expression slightly + altered. At the time this puzzled me, but it was explained when Sperry + started down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is of the police?” she asked, with a Frenchwoman’s timid respect + for the constabulary. + </p> + <p> + I hesitated before I answered. I am a truthful man, and I hate unnecessary + lying. But I ask consideration of the circumstances. Neither then nor at + any time later was the solving of the Wells mystery the prime motive + behind the course I laid out and consistently followed. I felt that we + might be on the verge of some great psychic discovery, one which would + revolutionize human thought and to a certain extent human action. And + toward that end I was prepared to go to almost any length. + </p> + <p> + “I am making a few investigations,” I told her. “You say Mrs. Wells was + alone in the house, except for her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “The children.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wells was shaving, I believe, when the—er—impulse + overtook him?” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt as to her surprise. “Shaving? I think not.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of razor did he ordinarily use?” + </p> + <p> + “A safety razor always. At least I have never seen any others around.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a case of old-fashioned razors in the bathroom.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced toward the room and shrugged her shoulders. “Possibly he used + others. I have not seen any.” + </p> + <p> + “It was you, I suppose, who cleaned up afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Cleaned up?” + </p> + <p> + “You who washed up the stains.” + </p> + <p> + “Stains? Oh, no, monsieur. Nothing of the sort has yet been done.” + </p> + <p> + I felt that she was telling the truth, so far as she knew it, and I then + asked about the revolver. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where Mr. Wells kept his revolver?” + </p> + <p> + “When I first came it was in the drawer of that table. I suggested that it + be placed beyond the children’s reach. I do not know where it was put.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you recall how you left the front door when you went out? I mean, was + it locked?” + </p> + <p> + “No. The servants were out, and I knew there would be no one to admit me. + I left it unfastened.” + </p> + <p> + But it was evident that she had broken a rule of the house by doing so, + for she added: “I am afraid to use the servants’ entrance. It is dark + there.” + </p> + <p> + “The key is always hung on the nail when they are out?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. If any one of them is out it is left there. There is only one key. + The family is out a great deal, and it saves bringing some one down from + the servants’ rooms at the top of the house.” + </p> + <p> + But I think my knowledge of the key bothered her, for some reason. And as + I read over my questions, certainly they indicated a suspicion that the + situation was less simple than it appeared. She shot a quick glance at me. + </p> + <p> + “Did you examine the revolver when you picked it up?” + </p> + <p> + “I, monsieur? Non!” Then her fears, whatever they were, got the best of + her. “I know nothing but what I tell you. I was out. I can prove that that + is so. I went to a pharmacy; the clerk will remember. I will go with you, + monsieur, and he will tell you that I used the telephone there.” + </p> + <p> + I daresay my business of cross-examination, of watching evidence helped me + to my next question. + </p> + <p> + “You went out to telephone when there is a telephone in the house?” + </p> + <p> + But here again, as once or twice before, a veil dropped between us. She + avoided my eyes. “There are things one does not want the family to hear,” + she muttered. Then, having determined on a course of action, she followed + it. “I am looking for another position. I do not like it here. The + children are spoiled. I only came for a month’s trial.” + </p> + <p> + “And the pharmacy?” + </p> + <p> + “Elliott’s, at the corner of State Avenue and McKee Street.” + </p> + <p> + I told her that it would not be necessary for her to go to the pharmacy, + and she muttered something about the children and went up the stairs. When + Sperry came back with the opiate she was nowhere in sight, and he was + considerably annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “She knows something,” I told him. “She is frightened.” + </p> + <p> + Sperry eyed me with a half frown. + </p> + <p> + “Now see here, Horace,” he said, “suppose we had come in here, without the + thought of that seance behind us? We’d have accepted the thing as it + appears to be, wouldn’t we? There may be a dozen explanations for that + sponge, and for the razor strop. What in heaven’s name has a razor strop + to do with it anyhow? One bullet was fired, and the revolver has one empty + chamber. It may not be the custom to stop shaving in order to commit + suicide, but that’s no argument that it can’t be done, and as to the key—how + do I know that my own back door key isn’t hung outside on a nail + sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + “We might look again for that hole in the ceiling.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t do it. Miss Jeremy has read of something of that sort, or heard + of it, and stored it in her subconscious mind.” + </p> + <p> + But he glanced up at the ceiling nevertheless, and a moment later had + drawn up a chair and stepped onto it, and I did the same thing. We + presented, I imagine, rather a strange picture, and I know that the + presence of the rigid figure on the couch gave me a sort of ghoulish + feeling. + </p> + <p> + The house was an old one, and in the center of the high ceiling a plaster + ornament surrounded the chandelier. Our search gradually centered on this + ornament, but the chairs were low and our long-distance examination + revealed nothing. It was at that time, too, that we heard some one in the + lower hall, and we had only a moment to put our chairs in place before the + butler came in. He showed no surprise, but stood looking at the body on + the couch, his thin face working. + </p> + <p> + “I met the detectives outside, doctor,” he said. “It’s a terrible thing, + sir, a terrible thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I’d keep the other servants out of this room, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” He went over to the sheet, lifted the edge slowly, and then + replaced it, and tip-toed to the door. “The others are not back yet. I’ll + admit them, and get them up quietly. How is Mrs. Wells?” + </p> + <p> + “Sleeping,” Sperry said briefly, and Hawkins went out. + </p> + <p> + I realize now that Sperry was—I am sure he will forgive this—in + a state of nerves that night. For example, he returned only an impatient + silence to my doubt as to whether Hawkins had really only just returned + and he quite missed something downstairs which I later proved to have an + important bearing on the case. This was when we were going out, and after + Hawkins had opened the front door for us. It had been freezing hard, and + Sperry, who has a bad ankle, looked about for a walking stick. He found + one, and I saw Hawkins take a swift step forward, and then stop, with no + expression whatever in his face. + </p> + <p> + “This will answer, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Hawkins impassively. + </p> + <p> + And if I realize that Sperry was nervous that night, I also realize that + he was fighting a battle quite his own, and with its personal problems. + </p> + <p> + “She’s got to quit this sort of thing,” he said savagely and apropos of + nothing, as we walked along. “It’s hard on her, and besides—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “She couldn’t have learned about it,” he said, following his own trail of + thought. “My car brought her from her home to the house-door. She was + brought in to us at once. But don’t you see that if there are other + developments, to prove her statements she—well, she’s as innocent as + a child, but take Herbert, for instance. Do you suppose he’ll believe she + had no outside information?” + </p> + <p> + “But it was happening while we were shut in the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “So Elinor claims. But if there was anything to hide, it would have taken + time. An hour or so, perhaps. You can see how Herbert would jump on that.” + </p> + <p> + We went back, I remember, to speaking of the seance itself, and to the + safer subject of the physical phenomena. As I have said, we did not then + know of those experimenters who claim that the medium can evoke so-called + rods of energy, and that by its means the invisible “controls” can perform + their strange feats of levitation and the movement of solid bodies. Sperry + touched very lightly on the spirit side. + </p> + <p> + “At least it would mean activity,” he said. “The thought of an inert + eternity is not bearable.” + </p> + <p> + He was inclined, however, to believe that there were laws of which we were + still in ignorance, and that we might some day find and use the fourth + dimension. He seemed to be able to grasp it quite clearly. “The cube of + the cube, or hypercube,” he explained. “Or get it this way: a cone passed + apex-downward through a plane.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” I said, “that it is perfectly simple. But somehow it just sounds + like words to me.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s perfectly clear, Horace,” he insisted. “But remember this when you + try to work it out; it is necessary to use motion as a translator of time + into space, or of space into time.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t intend to work it out,” I said irritably. “But I mean to use + motion as a translator of the time, which is 1:30 in the morning, to take + me to a certain space, which is where I live.” + </p> + <p> + But as it happened, I did not go into my house when I reached it. I was + wide awake, and I perceived, on looking up at my wife’s windows, that the + lights were out. As it is her custom to wait up for me on those rare + occasions when I spend an evening away from home, I surmised that she was + comfortably asleep, and made my way to the pharmacy to which the Wellses’ + governess had referred. + </p> + <p> + The night-clerk was in the prescription-room behind the shop. He had fixed + himself comfortably on two chairs, with an old table-cover over his knee + and a half-empty bottle of sarsaparilla on a wooden box beside him. He did + not waken until I spoke to him. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to rouse you, Jim,” I said. + </p> + <p> + He flung off the cover and jumped up, upsetting the bottle, which trickled + a stale stream to the floor. “Oh, that’s all right, Mr. Johnson, I wasn’t + asleep, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + I let that go, and went at once to the object of our visit. Yes, he + remembered the governess, knew her, as a matter of fact. The Wellses’ + bought a good many things there. Asked as to her telephoning, he thought + it was about nine o’clock, maybe earlier. But questioned as to what she + had telephoned about, he drew himself up. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, see here,” he said. “I can’t very well tell you that, can I? This + business has got ethics, all sorts of ethics.” + </p> + <p> + He enlarged on that. The secrets of the city, he maintained loftily, were + in the hands of the pharmacies. It was a trust that they kept. “Every + trouble from dope to drink, and then some,” he boasted. + </p> + <p> + When I told him that Arthur Wells was dead his jaw dropped, but there was + no more argument in him. He knew very well the number the governess had + called. + </p> + <p> + “She’s done it several times,” he said. “I’ll be frank with you. I got + curious after the third evening, and called it myself. You know the trick. + I found out it was the Ellingham, house, up State Street.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the nature of the conversations?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she was very careful. It’s an open phone and any one could hear her. + Once she said somebody was not to come. Another time she just said, ‘This + is Suzanne Gautier. 9:30, please.’” + </p> + <p> + “And tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “That the family was going out—not to call.” + </p> + <p> + When I told him it was a case of suicide, his jaw dropped. + </p> + <p> + “Can you beat it?” he said. “I ask you, can you beat it? A fellow who had + everything!” + </p> + <p> + But he was philosophical, too. + </p> + <p> + “A lot of people get the bug once in a while,” he said. “They come in here + for a dose of sudden death, and it takes watching. You’d be surprised the + number of things that will do the trick if you take enough. I don’t know. + If things get to breaking wrong—” + </p> + <p> + His voice trailed off, and he kicked at the old table cover on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a matter of the point of view,” he said more cheerfully. “And my + point of view just now is that this place is darned cold, and so’s the + street. You’d better have a little something to warm you up before you go + out, Mr. Johnson.” + </p> + <p> + I was chilled through, to tell the truth, and although I rarely drink + anything I went back with him and took an ounce or two of villainous + whiskey, poured out of a jug into a graduated glass. It is with deep + humiliation of spirit I record that a housemaid coming into my library at + seven o’clock the next morning, found me, in top hat and overcoat, asleep + on the library couch. + </p> + <p> + I had, however, removed my collar and tie, and my watch, carefully wound, + was on the smoking-stand beside me. + </p> + <p> + The death of Arthur Wells had taken place on Monday evening. Tuesday + brought nothing new. The coroner was apparently satisfied, and on + Wednesday the dead man’s body was cremated. + </p> + <p> + “Thus obliterating all evidence,” Sperry said, with what I felt was a note + of relief. + </p> + <p> + But I think the situation was bothering him, and that he hoped to discount + in advance the second sitting by Miss Jeremy, which Mrs. Dane had already + arranged for the following Monday, for on Wednesday afternoon, following a + conversation over the telephone, Sperry and I had a private sitting with + Miss Jeremy in Sperry’s private office. I took my wife into our confidence + and invited her to be present, but the unfortunate coldness following the + housemaid’s discovery of me asleep in the library on the morning after the + murder, was still noticeable and she refused. + </p> + <p> + The sitting, however, was totally without value. There was difficulty on + the medium’s part in securing the trance condition, and she broke out once + rather petulantly, with the remark that we were interfering with her in + some way. + </p> + <p> + I noticed that Sperry had placed Arthur Wells’s stick unobtrusively on his + table, but we secured only rambling and non-pertinent replies to our + questions, and whether it was because I knew that outside it was broad + day, or because the Wells matter did not come up at all I found a total + lack of that sense of the unknown which made all the evening sittings so + grisly. + </p> + <p> + I am sure she knew we had wanted something, and that she had failed to + give it to us, for when she came out she was depressed and in a state of + lowered vitality. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I’m not helping you,” she said. “I’m a little tired, I think.” + </p> + <p> + She was tired. I felt suddenly very sorry for her. She was so pretty and + so young—only twenty-six or thereabouts—to be in the grip of + forces so relentless. Sperry sent her home in his car, and took to pacing + the floor of his office. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to give it up, Horace,” he said. “Perhaps you are right. We may + be on the verge of some real discovery. But while I’m interested, so + interested that it interferes with my work, I’m frankly afraid to go on. + There are several reasons.” + </p> + <p> + I argued with him. There could be no question that if things were left as + they were, a number of people would go through life convinced that Elinor + Wells had murdered her husband. Look at the situation. She had sent out + all the servants and the governess, surely an unusual thing in an + establishment of that sort. And Miss Jeremy had been vindicated in three + points; some stains had certainly been washed up, we had found the key + where she had stated it to be, and Arthur had certainly been shaving + himself. + </p> + <p> + “In other words,” I argued, “we can’t stop, Sperry. You can’t stop. But my + idea would be that our investigations be purely scientific and not + criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “Also, in other words,” he said, “you think we will discover something, so + you suggest that we compound a felony and keep it to ourselves!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” I said drily. + </p> + <p> + It is of course possible that my nerves were somewhat unstrung during the + days that followed. I wakened one night to a terrific thump which shook my + bed, and which seemed to be the result of some one having struck the + foot-board with a plank. Immediately following this came a sharp knocking + on the antique bed-warmer which hangs beside my fireplace. When I had + sufficiently recovered my self-control I turned on my bedside lamp, but + the room was empty. + </p> + <p> + Again I wakened with a feeling of intense cold. I was frozen with it, and + curiously enough it was an inner cold. It seemed to have nothing to do + with the surface of my body. I have no explanation to make of these + phenomena. Like the occurrences at the seance, they were, and that was + all. + </p> + <p> + But on Thursday night of that week my wife came into my bedroom, and + stated flatly that there were burglars in the house. + </p> + <p> + Now it has been my contention always that if a burglar gains entrance, he + should be allowed to take what he wants. Silver can be replaced, but as I + said to my wife then, Horace Johnson could not. But she had recently + acquired a tea set formerly belonging to her great-grandmother, and + apprehension regarding it made her, for the nonce, less solicitous for me + than usual. + </p> + <p> + “Either you go or I go,” she said. “Where’s your revolver?” + </p> + <p> + I got out of bed at that, and went down the stairs. But I must confess + that I felt, the moment darkness surrounded me, considerably less + trepidation concerning the possible burglar than I felt as to the darkness + itself. Mrs. Johnson had locked herself in my bedroom, and there was + something horrible in the black depths of the lower hall. + </p> + <p> + We are old-fashioned people, and have not yet adopted electric light. I + carried a box of matches, but at the foot of the stairs the one I had + lighted went out. I was terrified. I tried to light another match, but + there was a draft from somewhere, and it too was extinguished before I had + had time to glance about. I was immediately conscious of a sort of soft + movement around me, as of shadowy shapes that passed and repassed. Once it + seemed to me that a hand was laid on my shoulder and was not lifted, but + instead dissolved into the other shadows around. The sudden striking of + the clock on the stair landing completed my demoralization. I turned and + fled upstairs, pursued, to my agonized nerves, by ghostly hands that came + toward me from between the spindles of the stair-rail. + </p> + <p> + At dawn I went downstairs again, heartily ashamed of myself. I found that + a door to the basement had been left open, and that the soft movement had + probably been my overcoat, swaying in the draft. + </p> + <p> + Probably. I was not certain. Indeed, I was certain of nothing during those + strange days. I had built up for myself a universe upheld by certain laws, + of day and night, of food and sleep and movement, of three dimensions of + space. And now, it seemed to me, I had stood all my life but on the + threshold, and, for an hour or so, the door had opened. + </p> + <p> + Sperry had, I believe, told Herbert Robinson of what we had discovered, + but nothing had been said to the women. I knew through my wife that they + were wildly curious, and the night of the second seance Mrs. Dane drew me + aside and I saw that she suspected, without knowing, that we had been + endeavoring to check up our revelations with the facts. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to promise me one thing,” she said. “I’ll not bother you now. + But I’m an old woman, with not much more of life to be influenced by any + disclosures. When this thing is over, and you have come to a conclusion—I’ll + not put it that way: you may not come to a conclusion—but when it is + over, I want you to tell me the whole story. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + I promised that I would. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jeremy did not come to dinner. She never ate before a seance. And + although we tried to keep the conversational ball floating airily, there + was not the usual effervescence of the Neighborhood Club dinners. One and + all, we were waiting, we knew not for what. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry to record that there were no physical phenomena of any sort at + this second seance. The room was arranged as it had been at the first + sitting, except that a table with a candle and a chair had been placed + behind a screen for Mrs. Dane’s secretary. + </p> + <p> + There was one other change. Sperry had brought the walking-stick he had + taken from Arthur Wells’s room, and after the medium was in trance he + placed it on the table before her. + </p> + <p> + The first questions were disappointing in results. Asked about the stick, + there was only silence. When, however, Sperry went back to the sitting of + the week before, and referred to questions and answers at that time, the + medium seemed uneasy. Her hand, held under mine, made an effort to free + itself and, released, touched the cane. She lifted it, and struck the + table a hard blow with it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know to whom that stick belongs?” + </p> + <p> + A silence. Then: “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell us what you know about it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is writing.” + </p> + <p> + “Writing?” + </p> + <p> + “It was writing, but the water washed it away.” + </p> + <p> + Then, instantly and with great rapidity, followed a wild torrent of words + and incomplete sentences. It is inarticulate, and the secretary made no + record of it. As I recall, however, it was about water, children, and the + words “ten o’clock” repeated several times. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that something happened at ten o’clock?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Certainly not. No, indeed. The water washed it away. All of it. Not a + trace.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did all this happen?” + </p> + <p> + She named, without hesitation, a seaside resort about fifty miles from our + city. There was not one of us, I dare say, who did not know that the + Wellses had spent the preceding summer there and that Charlie Ellingham + had been there, also. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that Arthur Wells is dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he kill himself?” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t catch me on that. I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + Here the medium laughed. It was horrible. And the laughter made the whole + thing absurd. But it died away quickly. + </p> + <p> + “If only the pocketbook was not lost,” she said. “There were so many + things in it. Especially car-tickets. Walking is a nuisance.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dane’s secretary suddenly spoke. “Do you want me to take things like + that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Take everything, please,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Car-tickets and letters. It will be terrible if the letters are found.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was the pocketbook lost?” Sperry asked. + </p> + <p> + “If that were known, it could be found,” was the reply, rather sharply + given. “Hawkins may have it. He was always hanging around. The curtain was + much safer.” + </p> + <p> + “What curtain?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody would have thought of the curtain. First ideas are best.” + </p> + <p> + She repeated this, following it, as once before, with rhymes for the final + word, best, rest, chest, pest. + </p> + <p> + “Pest!” she said. “That’s Hawkins!” And again the laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Did one of the bullets strike the ceiling?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But you’ll never find it. It is holding well. That part’s safe + enough—unless it made a hole in the floor above.” + </p> + <p> + “But there was only one empty chamber in the revolver. How could two shots + have been fired?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer at all to this. And Sperry, after waiting, went on to + his next question: “Who occupied the room overhead?” + </p> + <p> + But here we received the reply to the previous question: “There was a box + of cartridges in the table-drawer. That’s easy.” + </p> + <p> + From that point, however, the interest lapsed. Either there was no answer + to questions, or we got the absurdity that we had encountered before, + about the drawing-room furniture. But, unsatisfactory in many ways as the + seance had been, the effect on Miss Jeremy was profound—she was + longer in coming out, and greatly exhausted when it was all over. + </p> + <p> + She refused to take the supper Mrs. Dane had prepared for her, and at + eleven o’clock Sperry took her home in his car. + </p> + <p> + I remember that Mrs. Dane inquired, after she had gone. + </p> + <p> + “Does any one know the name of the Wellses’ butler? Is it Hawkins?” + </p> + <p> + I said nothing, and as Sperry was the only one likely to know and he had + gone, the inquiry went no further. Looking back, I realize that Herbert, + while less cynical, was still skeptical, that his sister was + non-committal, but for some reason watching me, and that Mrs. Dane was in + a state of delightful anticipation. + </p> + <p> + My wife, however, had taken a dislike to Miss Jeremy, and said that the + whole thing bored her. + </p> + <p> + “The men like it, of course,” she said, “Horace fairly simpers with + pleasure while he sits and holds her hand. But a woman doesn’t impose on + other women so easily. It’s silly.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” Mrs. Dane said, reaching over and patting my wife’s hand, + “people talked that way about Columbus and Galileo. And if it is nonsense + it is such thrilling nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + I find that the solution of the Arthur Wells mystery—for we did + solve it—takes three divisions in my mind. Each one is a sitting, + followed by an investigation made by Sperry and myself. + </p> + <p> + But for some reason, after Miss Jeremy’s second sitting, I found that my + reasoning mind was stronger than my credulity. And as Sperry had at that + time determined to have nothing more to do with the business, I made a + resolution to abandon my investigations. Nor have I any reason to believe + that I would have altered my attitude toward the case, had it not been + that I saw in the morning paper on the Thursday following the second + seance, that Elinor Wells had closed her house, and gone to Florida. + </p> + <p> + I tried to put the fact out of my mind that morning. After all, what good + would it do? No discovery of mine could bring Arthur Wells back to his + family, to his seat at the bridge table at the club, to his too expensive + cars and his unpaid bills. Or to his wife who was not grieving for him. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, I confess to an overwhelming desire to examine again + the ceiling of the dressing room and thus to check up one degree further + the accuracy of our revelations. After some debate, therefore, I called up + Sperry, but he flatly refused to go on any further. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Jeremy has been ill since Monday,” he said. “Mrs. Dane’s rheumatism + is worse, her companion is nervously upset, and your own wife called me up + an hour ago and says you are sleeping with a light, and she thinks you + ought to go away. The whole club is shot to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + But, although I am a small and not a courageous man, the desire to examine + the Wells house clung to me tenaciously. Suppose there were cartridges in + his table drawer? Suppose I should find the second bullet hole in the + ceiling? I no longer deceived myself by any argument that my interest was + purely scientific. There is a point at which curiosity becomes unbearable, + when it becomes an obsession, like hunger. I had reached that point. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, I found it hard to plan the necessary deception to my wife. + My habits have always been entirely orderly and regular. My wildest + dissipation was the Neighborhood Club. I could not recall an evening away + from home in years, except on business. Yet now I must have a free + evening, possibly an entire night. + </p> + <p> + In planning for this, I forgot my nervousness for a time. I decided + finally to tell my wife that an out-of-town client wished to talk business + with me, and that day, at luncheon—I go home to luncheon—I + mentioned that such a client was in town. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible,” I said, as easily as I could, “that we may not get + through this afternoon. If things should run over into the evening, I’ll + telephone.” + </p> + <p> + She took it calmly enough, but later on, as I was taking an electric flash + from the drawer of the hall table and putting it in my overcoat pocket, + she came on me, and I thought she looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + During the afternoon I was beset with doubts and uneasiness. Suppose she + called up my office and found that the client I had named was not in town? + It is undoubtedly true that a tangled web we weave when first we practise + to deceive, for on my return to the office I was at once quite certain + that Mrs. Johnson would telephone and make the inquiry. + </p> + <p> + After some debate I called my secretary and told her to say, if such a + message came in, that Mr. Forbes was in town and that I had an appointment + with him. As a matter of fact, no such inquiry came in, but as Miss Joyce, + my secretary, knew that Mr. Forbes was in Europe, I was conscious for some + months afterwards that Miss Joyce’s eyes occasionally rested on me in a + speculative and suspicious manner. + </p> + <p> + Other things also increased my uneasiness as the day wore on. There was, + for instance, the matter of the back door to the Wells house. Nothing was + more unlikely than that the key would still be hanging there. I must, + therefore, get a key. + </p> + <p> + At three o’clock I sent the office-boy out for a back-door key. He looked + so surprised that I explained that we had lost our key, and that I + required an assortment of keys of all sizes. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of key?” he demanded, eyeing me, with his feet apart. + </p> + <p> + “Just an ordinary key,” I said. “Not a Yale key. Nothing fancy. Just a + plain back-door key.” At something after four my wife called up, in great + excitement. A boy and a man had been to the house and had fitted an extra + key to the back door, which had two excellent ones already. She was quite + hysterical, and had sent for the police, but the officer had arrived after + they had gone. + </p> + <p> + “They are burglars, of course!” she said. “Burglars often have boys with + them, to go through the pantry windows. I’m so nervous I could scream.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to tell her that if the door was unlocked there was no need to use + the pantry window, but she rang off quickly and, I thought, coldly. Not, + however, before she had said that my plan to spend the evening out was + evidently known in the underworld! + </p> + <p> + By going through my desk I found a number of keys, mostly trunk keys and + one the key to a dog-collar. But late in the afternoon I visited a client + of mine who is in the hardware business, and secured quite a selection. + One of them was a skeleton key. He persisted in regarding the matter as a + joke, and poked me between the shoulder-blades as I went out. + </p> + <p> + “If you’re arrested with all that hardware on you,” he said, “you’ll be + held as a first-class burglar. You are equipped to open anything from a + can of tomatoes to the missionary box in church.” + </p> + <p> + But I felt that already, innocent as I was, I was leaving a trail of + suspicion behind me: Miss Joyce and the office boy, the dealer and my + wife. And I had not started yet. + </p> + <p> + I dined in a small chop-house where I occasionally lunch, and took a large + cup of strong black coffee. When I went out into the night again I found + that a heavy fog had settled down, and I began to feel again something of + the strange and disturbing quality of the day which had ended in Arthur + Wells’s death. Already a potential housebreaker, I avoided policemen, and + the very jingling of the keys in my pocket sounded loud and incriminating + to my ears. + </p> + <p> + The Wells house was dark. Even the arc-lamp in the street was shrouded in + fog. But the darkness, which added to my nervousness, added also to my + security. + </p> + <p> + I turned and felt my way cautiously to the rear of the house. Suddenly I + remembered the dog. But of course he was gone. As I cautiously ascended + the steps the dead leaves on the vines rattled, as at the light touch of a + hand, and I was tempted to turn and run. + </p> + <p> + I do not like deserted houses. Even in daylight they have a sinister + effect on me. They seem, in their empty spaces, to have held and recorded + all that has happened in the dusty past. The Wells house that night, + looming before me, silent and mysterious, seemed the embodiment of all the + deserted houses I had known. Its empty and unshuttered windows were like + blind eyes, gazing in, not out. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, now that the time had come a certain amount of courage came + with it. I am not ashamed to confess that a certain part of it came from + the anticipation of the Neighborhood Club’s plaudits. For Herbert to have + made such an investigation, or even Sperry, with his height and his iron + muscles, would not have surprised them. But I was aware that while they + expected intelligence and even humor, of a sort, from me, they did not + anticipate any particular bravery. + </p> + <p> + The flash was working, but rather feebly. I found the nail where the + door-key had formerly hung, but the key, as I had expected, was gone. I + was less than five minutes, I fancy, in finding a key from my collection + that would fit. The bolt slid back with a click, and the door opened. + </p> + <p> + It was still early in the evening, eight-thirty or thereabouts. I tried to + think of that; to remember that, only a few blocks away, some of my + friends were still dining, or making their way into theaters. But the + silence of the house came out to meet me on the threshold, and its + blackness enveloped me like a wave. It was unfortunate, too, that I + remembered just then that it was, or soon would be, the very hour of young + Wells’s death. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, once inside the house, the door to the outside closed and + facing two alternatives, to go on with it or to cut and run, I found a + sort of desperate courage, clenched my teeth, and felt for the nearest + light switch. + </p> + <p> + The electric light had been cut off! + </p> + <p> + I should have expected it, but I had not. I remember standing in the back + hall and debating whether to go on or to get out. I was not only in a + highly nervous state, but I was also badly handicapped. However, as the + moments wore on and I stood there, with the quiet unbroken by no + mysterious sounds, I gained a certain confidence. After a short period of + readjustment, therefore, I felt my way to the library door, and into the + room. Once there, I used the flash to discover that the windows were + shuttered, and proceeded to take off my hat and coat, which I placed on a + chair near the door. It was at this time that I discovered that the + battery of my lamp was very weak, and finding a candle in a tall brass + stick on the mantelpiece, I lighted it. + </p> + <p> + Then I looked about. The house had evidently been hastily closed. Some of + the furniture was covered with sheets, while part of it stood unprotected. + The rug had been folded into the center of the room, and covered with + heavy brown papers, and I was extremely startled to hear the papers + rustling. A mouse, however, proved to be the source of the sound, and I + pulled myself together with a jerk. + </p> + <p> + It is to be remembered that I had left my hat and overcoat on a chair near + the door. There could be no mistake, as the chair was a light one, and the + weight of my overcoat threw it back against the wall. + </p> + <p> + Candle in hand, I stepped out into the hail, and was immediately met by a + crash which reverberated through the house. In my alarm my teeth closed on + the end of my tongue, with agonizing results, but the sound died away, and + I concluded that an upper window had been left open, and that the rising + wind had slammed a door. But my morale, as we say since the war, had been + shaken, and I recklessly lighted a second candle and placed it on the + table in the hall at the foot of the staircase, to facilitate my exit in + case I desired to make a hurried one. + </p> + <p> + Then I climbed slowly. The fog had apparently made its way into the house, + for when, halfway up, I turned and looked down, the candlelight was hardly + more than a spark, surrounded by a luminous aura. + </p> + <p> + I do not know exactly when I began to feel that I was not alone in the + house. It was, I think, when I was on a chair on top of a table in + Arthur’s room, with my candle upheld to the ceiling. It seemed to me that + something was moving stealthily in the room overhead. I stood there, + candle upheld, and every faculty I possessed seemed centered in my ears. + It was not a footstep. It was a soft and dragging movement. Had I not been + near the ceiling I should not have heard it. Indeed, a moment later I was + not certain that I had heard it. + </p> + <p> + My chair, on top of the table, was none too securely balanced. I had found + what I was looking for, a part of the plaster ornament broken away, and + replaced by a whitish substance, not plaster. I got out my penknife and + cut away the foreign matter, showing a small hole beneath, a bullet-hole, + if I knew anything about bullet-holes. + </p> + <p> + Then I heard the dragging movement above, and what with alarm and my + insecure position, I suddenly overbalanced, chair and all. My head must + have struck on the corner of the table, for I was dazed for a few moments. + The candle had gone out, of course. I felt for the chair, righted it, and + sat down. I was dizzy and I was frightened. I was afraid to move, lest the + dragging thing above come down and creep over me in the darkness and + smother me. + </p> + <p> + And sitting there, I remembered the very things I most wished to forget—the + black curtain behind Miss Jeremy, the things flung by unseen hands into + the room, the way my watch had slid over the table and fallen to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + Since that time I know there is a madness of courage, born of terror. + Nothing could be more intolerable than to sit there and wait. It is the + same insanity that drove men out of the trenches to the charge and almost + certain death, rather than to sit and wait for what might come. + </p> + <p> + In a way, I daresay I charged the upper floor of the house. Recalling the + situation from this safe lapse of time, I think that I was in a condition + close to frenzy. I know that it did not occur to me to leap down the + staircase and escape, and I believe now this was due to a conviction that + I was dealing with the supernatural, and that on no account did I dare to + turn my back on it. All children and some adults, I am sure, have known + this feeling. + </p> + <p> + Whatever drove me, I know that, candle in hand, and hardly sane, I ran up + the staircase, and into the room overhead. It was empty. + </p> + <p> + As suddenly as my sanity had gone, it returned to me. The sight of two + small beds, side by side, a tiny dressing-table, a row of toys on the + mantelpiece, was calming. Here was the children’s night nursery, a white + and placid room which could house nothing hideous. + </p> + <p> + I was humiliated and ashamed. I, Horace Johnson, a man of dignity and + reputation, even in a small way, a successful after-dinner speaker, + numbering fifty-odd years of logical living to my credit, had been running + half-maddened toward a mythical danger from which I had been afraid to run + away! + </p> + <p> + I sat down and mopped my face with my pocket handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + After a time I got up, and going to a window looked down at the quiet + world below. The fog was lifting. Automobiles were making cautious + progress along the slippery street. A woman with a basket had stopped + under the street light and was rearranging her parcels. The clock of the + city hall, visible over the opposite roofs, marked only twenty minutes to + nine. It was still early evening—not even midnight, the magic hour + of the night. + </p> + <p> + Somehow that fact reassured me, and I was able to take stock of my + surroundings. I realized, for instance, that I stood in the room over + Arthur’s dressing room, and that it was into the ceiling under me that the + second—or probably the first—bullet had penetrated. I know, as + it happens, very little of firearms, but I did realize that a shot from + a.45 Colt automatic would have considerable penetrative power. To be + exact, that the bullet had probably either lodged itself in a joist, or + had penetrated through the flooring and might be somewhere over my head. + </p> + <p> + But my candle was inadequate for more than the most superficial + examination of the ceiling, which presented so far as I could see an + unbroken surface. I turned my attention, therefore, to the floor. It was + when I was turning the rug back that I recognized the natural and not + supernatural origin of the sound which had so startled me. It had been the + soft movement of the carpet across the floor boards. + </p> + <p> + Some one, then, had been there before me—some one who knew what I + knew, had reasoned as I reasoned. Some one who, in all probability, still + lurked on the upper floor. + </p> + <p> + Obeying an impulse, I stood erect and called out sharply, “Sperry!” I + said. “Sperry!” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. I tried again, calling Herbert. But only my own voice + came back to me, and the whistling of the wind through the window I had + opened. + </p> + <p> + My fears, never long in abeyance that night, roused again. I had instantly + a conviction that some human figure, sinister and dangerous, was lurking + in the shadows of that empty floor, and I remember backing away from the + door and standing in the center of the room, prepared for some stealthy, + murderous assault. When none came I looked about for a weapon, and finally + took the only thing in sight, a coal-tongs from the fireplace. Armed with + that, I made a cursory round of the near-by rooms but there was no one + hiding in them. + </p> + <p> + I went back to the rug and examined the floor beneath it. I was right. + Some one had been there before me. Bits of splintered wood lay about. The + second bullet had been fired, had buried itself in the flooring, and had, + some five minutes before, been dug out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + The extraordinary thing about the Arthur Wells story was not his killing. + For killing it was. It was the way it was solved. + </p> + <p> + Here was a young woman, Miss Jeremy, who had not known young Wells, had + not known his wife, had, until that first meeting at Mrs. Dane’s, never + met any member of the Neighborhood Club. Yet, but for her, Arthur Wells + would have gone to his grave bearing the stigma of moral cowardice, of + suicide. + </p> + <p> + The solution, when it came, was amazing, but remarkably simple. Like most + mysteries. I have in my own house, for instance, an example of a great + mystery, founded on mere absentmindedness. + </p> + <p> + This is what my wife terms the mystery of the fire-tongs. + </p> + <p> + I had left the Wells house as soon as I had made the discovery in the + night nursery. I carried the candle and the fire-tongs downstairs. I was, + apparently, calm but watchful. I would have said that I had never been + more calm in my life. I knew quite well that I had the fire-tongs in my + hand. Just when I ceased to be cognizant of them was probably when, on + entering the library, I found that my overcoat had disappeared, and that + my stiff hat, badly broken, lay on the floor. However, as I say, I was + still extraordinarily composed. I picked up my hat, and moving to the rear + door, went out and closed it. When I reached the street, however, I had + only gone a few yards when I discovered that I was still carrying the + lighted candle, and that a man, passing by, had stopped and was staring + after me. + </p> + <p> + My composure is shown by the fact that I dropped the candle down the next + sewer opening, but the fact remains that I carried the fire-tongs home. I + do not recall doing so. In fact, I knew nothing of the matter until + morning. On the way to my house I was elaborating a story to the effect + that my overcoat had been stolen from a restaurant where I and my client + had dined. The hat offered more serious difficulties. I fancied that, by + kissing my wife good-by at the breakfast table, I might be able to get out + without her following me to the front door, which is her custom. + </p> + <p> + But, as a matter of fact, I need not have concerned myself about the hat. + When I descended to breakfast the next morning I found her surveying the + umbrella-stand in the hall. The fire-tongs were standing there, gleaming, + among my sticks and umbrellas. + </p> + <p> + I lied. I lied shamelessly. She is a nervous woman, and, as we have no + children, her attitude toward me is one of watchful waiting. Through long + years she has expected me to commit some indiscretion—innocent, of + course, such as going out without my overcoat on a cool day—and she + intends to be on hand for every emergency. I dared not confess, therefore, + that on the previous evening I had burglariously entered a closed house, + had there surprised another intruder at work, had fallen and bumped my + head severely, and had, finally, had my overcoat taken. + </p> + <p> + “Horace,” she said coldly, “where did you get those fire-tongs?” + </p> + <p> + “Fire-tongs?” I repeated. “Why, that’s so. They are fire-tongs.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get them?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” I expostulated, “I get them?” + </p> + <p> + “What I would like to ask,” she said, with an icy calmness that I have + learned to dread, “is whether you carried them home over your head, under + the impression that you had your umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” I said with dignity. “I assure you, my dear—” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a curious woman,” she put in incisively, “but when my husband + spends an evening out, and returns minus his overcoat, with his hat + mashed, a lump the size of an egg over his ear, and puts a pair of + fire-tongs in the umbrella stand under the impression that it is an + umbrella, I have a right to ask at least if he intends to continue his + life of debauchery.” + </p> + <p> + I made a mistake then. I should have told her. Instead, I took my broken + hat and jammed it on my head with a force that made the lump she had + noticed jump like a toothache, and went out. + </p> + <p> + When, at noon and luncheon, I tried to tell her the truth, she listened to + the end: Then: “I should think you could have done better than that,” she + said. “You have had all morning to think it out.” + </p> + <p> + However, if things were in a state of armed neutrality at home, I had a + certain compensation for them when I told my story to Sperry that + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “You see how it is,” I finished. “You can stay out of this, or come in, + Sperry, but I cannot stop now. He was murdered beyond a doubt, and there + is an intelligent effort being made to eliminate every particle of + evidence.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It looks like it. And this man who was there last night—” + </p> + <p> + “Why a man?” + </p> + <p> + “He took your overcoat, instead of his own, didn’t he? It may have been—it’s + curious, isn’t it, that we’ve had no suggestion of Ellingham in all the + rest of the material.” + </p> + <p> + Like the other members of the Neighborhood Club, he had a copy of the + proceedings at the two seances, and now he brought them out and fell to + studying them. + </p> + <p> + “She was right about the bullet in the ceiling,” he reflected. “I suppose + you didn’t look for the box of shells for the revolver?” + </p> + <p> + “I meant to, but it slipped my mind.” + </p> + <p> + He shuffled the loose pages of the record. “Cane—washed away by the + water—a knee that is hurt—the curtain would have been safer + —Hawkins—the drawing-room furniture is all over the house. + That last, Horace, isn’t pertinent. It refers clearly to the room we were + in. Of course, the point is, how much of the rest is also extraneous + matter?” He re-read one of the sheets. “Of course that belongs, about + Hawkins. And probably this: ‘It will be terrible if the letters are + found.’ They were in the pocketbook, presumably.” + </p> + <p> + He folded up the papers and replaced them in a drawer. + </p> + <p> + “We’d better go back to the house,” he said. “Whoever took your overcoat + by mistake probably left one. The difficulty is, of course, that he + probably discovered his error and went back again last night. Confound it, + man, if you had thought of that at the time, we would have something to go + on today.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had thought of a number of things I’d have stayed out of the place + altogether,” I retorted tartly. “I wish you could help me about the + fire-tongs, Sperry. I don’t seem able to think of any explanation that + Mrs. Johnson would be willing to accept.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you understand,” I explained. “She simply wouldn’t believe + it. And if she did I should have to agree to drop the investigation. As a + matter of fact, Sperry, I had resorted to subterfuge in order to remain + out last evening, and I am bitterly regretting my mendacity.” + </p> + <p> + But Sperry has, I am afraid, rather loose ideas. + </p> + <p> + “Every man,” he said, “would rather tell the truth, but every woman makes + it necessary to lie to her. Forget the fire-tongs, Horace, and forget Mrs. + Johnson to-night. He may not have dared to go back in day-light for his + overcoat.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I agreed. + </p> + <p> + But it was not very well, and I knew it. I felt that, in a way, my whole + domestic happiness was at stake. My wife is a difficult person to argue + with, and as tenacious of an opinion once formed as are all very amiable + people. However, unfortunately for our investigation, but luckily for me, + under the circumstances, Sperry was called to another city that afternoon + and did not return for two days. + </p> + <p> + It was, it will be recalled, on the Thursday night following the second + sitting that I had gone alone to the Wells house, and my interview with + Sperry was on Friday. It was on Friday afternoon that I received a + telephone message from Mrs. Dane. + </p> + <p> + It was actually from her secretary, the Clara who had recorded the + seances. It was Mrs. Dane’s misfortune to be almost entirely dependent on + the various young women who, one after the other, were employed to look + after her. I say “one after the other” advisedly. It had long been a + matter of good-natured jesting in the Neighborhood Club that Mrs. Dane + conducted a matrimonial bureau, as one young woman after another was + married from her house. It was her kindly habit, on such occasions, to + give the bride a wedding, and only a month before it had been my privilege + to give away in holy wedlock Miss Clara’s predecessor. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Dane would like you to stop in and have a cup of tea with her this + afternoon, Mr. Johnson,” said the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “At what time?” + </p> + <p> + “At four o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + I hesitated. I felt that my wife was waiting at home for further + explanation of the coal-tongs, and that the sooner we had it out the + better. But, on the other hand, Mrs. Dane’s invitations, by reason of her + infirmity, took on something of the nature of commands. + </p> + <p> + “Please say that I will be there at four,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + I bought a new hat that afternoon, and told the clerk to destroy the old + one. Then I went to Mrs. Dane’s. + </p> + <p> + She was in the drawing-room, now restored to its usual clutter of + furniture and ornaments. I made my way around two tables, stepped over a + hassock and under the leaves of an artificial palm, and shook her hand. + </p> + <p> + She was plainly excited. Never have I known a woman who, confined to a + wheel-chair, lived so hard. She did not allow life to pass her windows, if + I may put it that way. She called it in, and set it moving about her + chair, herself the nucleus around which were enacted all sorts of small + neighborhood dramas and romances. Her secretaries did not marry. She + married them. + </p> + <p> + It is curious to look back and remember how Herbert and Sperry and myself + had ignored this quality in her, in the Wells case. She was not to be + ignored, as I discovered that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” she said. “You look half sick, Horace.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing escapes her eyes, so I was careful to place myself with the lump + on my head turned away from her. But I fancy she saw it, for her eyes + twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “Horace! Horace!” she said. “How I have detested you all week!” + </p> + <p> + “I? You detested me?” + </p> + <p> + “Loathed you,” she said with unction. “You are cruel and ungrateful. + Herbert has influenza, and does not count. And Sperry is in love—oh + yes, I know it. I know a great many things. But you!” + </p> + <p> + I could only stare at her. + </p> + <p> + “The strange thing is,” she went on, “that I have known you for years, and + never suspected your sense of humor. You’ll forgive me, I know, if I tell + you that your lack of humor was to my mind the only flaw in an otherwise + perfect character.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not aware—” I began stiffly. “I have always believed that I + furnished to the Neighborhood Club its only leaven of humor.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t spoil it,” she begged. “Don’t. If you could know how I have enjoyed + it. All afternoon I have been chuckling. The fire-tongs, Horace. The + fire-tongs!” + </p> + <p> + Then I knew that my wife had been to Mrs. Dane and I drew a long breath. + “I assure you,” I said gravely, “that while doubtless I carried the + wretched things home and—er—placed them where they were found, + I have not the slightest recollection of it. And it is hardly amusing, is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Amusing!” she cried. “It’s delicious. It has made me a young woman again. + Horace, if I could have seen your wife’s face when she found them, I would + give cheerfully almost anything I possess.” + </p> + <p> + But underneath her mirth I knew there was something else. And, after all, + she could convince my wife if she were convinced herself. I told the whole + story—of the visit Sperry and I had made the night Arthur Wells was + shot, and of what we discovered; of the clerk at the pharmacy and his + statement, and even of the whiskey and its unfortunate effect—at + which, I regret to say, she was vastly amused; and, last of all, of my + experience the previous night in the deserted house. + </p> + <p> + She was very serious when I finished. Tea came, but we forgot to drink it. + Her eyes flashed with excitement, her faded face flushed. And, with it + all, as I look back, there was an air of suppressed excitement that seemed + to have nothing to do with my narrative. I remembered it, however, when + the denouement came the following week. + </p> + <p> + She was a remarkable woman. Even then she knew, or strongly suspected, the + thing that the rest of us had missed, the x of the equation. But I think + it only fair to record that she was in possession of facts which we did + not have, and which she did not divulge until the end. + </p> + <p> + “You have been so ungenerous with me,” she said finally, “that I am + tempted not to tell you why I sent for you. Of course, I know I am only a + helpless old woman, and you men are people of affairs. But now and then I + have a flash of intelligence. I’m going to tell you, but you don’t deserve + it.” + </p> + <p> + She went down into the black silk bag at her side which was as much a part + of her attire as the false front she wore with such careless abandon, and + which, brown in color and indifferently waved, was invariably parting from + its mooring. She drew out a newspaper clipping. + </p> + <p> + “On going over Clara’s notes,” she said, “I came to the conclusion, last + Tuesday, that the matter of the missing handbag and the letters was + important. More important, probably, than the mere record shows. Do you + recall the note of distress in Miss Jeremy’s voice? It was almost a wail.” + </p> + <p> + I had noticed it. + </p> + <p> + “I have plenty of time to think,” she added, not without pathos. “There is + only one Monday night in the week, and—the days are long. It + occurred to me to try to trace that bag.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “How does any one trace lost articles?” she demanded. “By advertising, of + course. Last Wednesday I advertised for the bag.” + </p> + <p> + I was too astonished to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I reasoned like this: If there was no such bag, there was no harm done. + As a matter of fact, if there was no such bag, the chances were that we + were all wrong, anyhow. If there was such a bag, I wanted it. Here is the + advertisement as I inserted it.” + </p> + <p> + She gave me a small newspaper cutting + </p> + <p> + “Lost, a handbag containing private letters, car-tickets, etc. Liberal + reward paid for its return. Please write to A 31, the Daily News.” + </p> + <p> + I sat with it on my palm. It was so simple, so direct. And I, a lawyer, + and presumably reasonably acute, had not thought of it! + </p> + <p> + “You are wasted on us, Mrs. Dane,” I acknowledged. “Well? I see something + has come of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I’m not ready for it.” + </p> + <p> + She dived again into the bag, and brought up another clipping. + </p> + <p> + “On the day that I had that inserted,” she said impressively, “this also + appeared. They were in the same column.” She read the second clipping + aloud, slowly, that I might gain all its significance: + </p> + <p> + “Lost on the night of Monday, November the second, between State Avenue + and Park Avenue, possibly on an Eastern Line street car, a black handbag + containing keys, car-tickets, private letters, and a small sum of money. + Reward and no questions asked if returned to Daily News office.” + </p> + <p> + She passed the clipping to me and I compared the two. It looked strange, + and I confess to a tingling feeling that coincidence, that element so much + to be feared in any investigation, was not the solution here. But there + was such a chance, and I spoke of it. + </p> + <p> + “Coincidence rubbish!” she retorted. “I am not through, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + She went down into the bag again, and I expected nothing less than the + pocketbook, letters and all, to appear. But she dragged up, among a + miscellany of handkerchiefs, a bottle of smelling-salts, and a few + almonds, of which she was inordinately fond, an envelope. + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday,” she said, “I took a taxicab ride. You know my chair gets + tiresome, occasionally. I stopped at the newspaper office, and found the + bag had not been turned in, but that there was a letter for A 31.” She + held out the envelope to me. + </p> + <p> + “Read it,” she observed. “It is a curious human document. You’ll probably + be no wiser for reading it, but it shows one thing: We are on the track of + something.” + </p> + <p> + I have the letter before me now. It is written on glazed paper, ruled with + blue lines. The writing is of the flowing style we used to call + Spencerian, and if it lacks character I am inclined to believe that its + weakness is merely the result of infrequent use of a pen. + </p> + <p> + You know who this is from. I have the bag and the letters. In a safe + place. If you would treat me like a human being, you could have them. I + know where the walking-stick is, also. I will tell you this. I have no + wish to do her any harm. She will have to pay up in the next world, even + if she gets off in this. The way I reason is this: As long as I have the + things, I’ve got the whiphand. I’ve got you, too, although you may think I + haven’t. + </p> + <p> + About the other matter I was innocent. I swear it again. I never did it. + You are the only one in all the world. I would rather be dead than go on + like this. + </p> + <p> + It is unsigned. + </p> + <p> + I stared from the letter to Mrs. Dane. She was watching me, her face grave + and rather sad. + </p> + <p> + “You and I, Horace,” she said, “live our orderly lives. We eat, and sleep, + and talk, and even labor. We think we are living. But for the last day or + two I have been seeing visions—you and I and the rest of us, living + on the surface, and underneath, carefully kept down so it will not make us + uncomfortable, a world of passion and crime and violence and suffering. + That letter is a tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + But if she had any suspicion then as to the writer, and I think she had + not, she said nothing, and soon after I started for home. I knew that one + of two things would have happened there: either my wife would have put + away the fire-tongs, which would indicate a truce, or they would remain as + they had been, which would indicate that she still waited for the + explanation I could not give. It was with a certain tension, therefore, + that I opened my front door. + </p> + <p> + The fire-tongs still stood in the stand. + </p> + <p> + In one way, however, Mrs. Johnson’s refusal to speak to me that evening + had a certain value, for it enabled me to leave the house without + explanation, and thus to discover that, if an overcoat had been left in + place of my own, it had been taken away. It also gave me an opportunity to + return the fire-tongs, a proceeding which I had considered would assist in + a return of the entente cordiale at home, but which most unjustly appeared + to have exactly the opposite effect. It has been my experience that the + most innocent action may, under certain circumstances, assume an + appearance of extreme guilt. + </p> + <p> + By Saturday the condition of affairs between my wife and myself remained + in statu quo, and I had decided on a bold step. This was to call a special + meeting of the Neighborhood Club, without Miss Jeremy, and put before them + the situation as it stood at that time, with a view to formulating a + future course of action, and also of publicly vindicating myself before my + wife. + </p> + <p> + In deference to Herbert Robinson’s recent attack of influenza, we met at + the Robinson house. Sperry himself wheeled Mrs. Dane over, and made a + speech. + </p> + <p> + “We have called this meeting,” he said, “because a rather singular + situation has developed. What was commenced purely as an interesting + experiment has gone beyond that stage. We find ourselves in the curious + position of taking what comes very close to being a part in a domestic + tragedy. The affair is made more delicate by the fact that this tragedy + involves people who, if not our friends, at least are very well known to + us. The purpose of this meeting, to be brief, is to determine whether the + Neighborhood Club, as a body, wishes to go on with the investigation, or + to stop where we are.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, but, as no one spoke, he went on again. “It is really not as + simple as that,” he said. “To stop now, in view of the evidence we intend + to place before the Club, is to leave in all our minds certain suspicions + that may be entirely unjust. On the other hand, to go on is very possible + to place us all in a position where to keep silent is to be an accessory + after a crime.” + </p> + <p> + He then proceeded, in orderly fashion, to review the first sitting and its + results. He read from notes, elaborating them as he went along, for the + benefit of the women, who had not been fully informed. As all the data of + the Club is now in my possession, I copy these notes. + </p> + <p> + “I shall review briefly the first sitting, and what followed it.” He read + the notes of the sitting first. “You will notice that I have made no + comment on the physical phenomena which occurred early in the seance. This + is for two reasons: first, it has no bearing on the question at issue. + Second, it has no quality of novelty. Certain people, under certain + conditions, are able to exert powers that we can not explain. I have no + belief whatever in their spiritistic quality. They are purely physical, + the exercise of powers we have either not yet risen high enough in our + scale of development to recognize generally, or which have survived from + some early period when our natural gifts had not been smothered by + civilization.” + </p> + <p> + And, to make our position clear, that is today the attitude of the + Neighborhood Club. The supernormal, as I said at the beginning, not the + supernatural, is our explanation. + </p> + <p> + Sperry’s notes were alphabetical. + </p> + <p> + (a) At 9:15, or somewhat earlier, on Monday night a week ago Arthur Wells + killed himself, or was killed. At 9:30 on that same evening by Mr. + Johnson’s watch, consulted at the time, Miss Jeremy had described such a + crime. (Here he elaborated, repeating the medium’s account.) + </p> + <p> + (b) At midnight, Sperry, reaching home, had found a message summoning him + to the Wells house. The message had been left at 9:35. He had telephoned + me, and we had gone together, arriving at approximately 12:30. + </p> + <p> + (c) We had been unable to enter, and, recalling the medium’s description + of a key on a nail among the vines, had searched for and found such a key, + and had admitted ourselves. Mrs. Wells, a governess, a doctor, and two + policemen were in the house. The dead man lay in the room in which he had + died. (Here he went at length into the condition of the room, the revolver + with one chamber empty, and the blood-stained sponge and razorstrop behind + the bathtub. We had made a hasty examination of the ceiling, but had found + no trace of a second shot.) + </p> + <p> + (d) The governess had come in at just after the death. Mr. Horace Johnson + had had a talk with her. She had left the front door unfastened when she + went out at eight o’clock. She said she had gone out to telephone about + another position, as she was dissatisfied. She had phoned from, Elliott’s + pharmacy on State Avenue. Later that night Mr. Johnson had gone to + Elliott’s. She had lied about the message. She had really telephoned to a + number which the pharmacy clerk had already discovered was that of the + Ellingham house. The message was that Mr. Ellingham was not to come, as + Mr. and Mrs. Wells were going out. It was not the first time she had + telephoned to that number. + </p> + <p> + There was a stir in the room. Something which we had tacitly avoided had + come suddenly into the open. Sperry raised his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary to be explicit,” he said, “that the Club may see where it + stands. It is, of course, not necessary to remind ourselves that this + evening’s disclosures are of the most secret nature. I urge that the Club + jump to no hasty conclusions, and that there shall be no interruptions + until we have finished with our records.” + </p> + <p> + (e) At a private seance, which Mr. Johnson and I decided was excusable + under the circumstances, the medium was unable to give us anything. This + in spite of the fact that we had taken with us a walking-stick belonging + to the dead man. + </p> + <p> + (f) The second sitting of the Club. I need only refresh your minds as to + one or two things; the medium spoke of a lost pocketbook, and of letters. + While the point is at least capable of doubt, apparently the letters were + in the pocketbook. Also, she said that a curtain would have been better, + that Hawkins was a nuisance, and that everything was all right unless the + bullet had made a hole in the floor above. You will also recall the + mention of a box of cartridges in a table drawer in Arthur Wells’s room. + </p> + <p> + “I will now ask Mr. Horace Johnson to tell what occurred on the night + before last, Thursday evening.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think Horace has a very clear recollection of last Thursday + night,” my wife said, coldly. “And I wish to go on record at once that if + he claims that spirits broke his hat, stole his overcoat, bumped his head + and sent him home with a pair of fire-tongs for a walking-stick, I don’t + believe him.” + </p> + <p> + Which attitude Herbert, I regret to say, did not help when he said: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry, Horace will soon be too old for the gay life. Remember your + arteries, Horace.” + </p> + <p> + I have quoted this interruption to show how little, outside of Sperry, + Mrs. Dane and myself, the Neighborhood Club appreciated the seriousness of + the situation. Herbert, for instance, had been greatly amused when Sperry + spoke of my finding the razorstrop and had almost chuckled over our + investigation of the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + But they were very serious when I had finished my statement. + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott!” Herbert said. “Then she was right, after all! I say, I + guess I’ve been no end of an ass.” + </p> + <p> + I was inclined to agree with him. But the real effect of my brief speech + was on my wife. + </p> + <p> + It was a real compensation for that night of terror and for the + uncomfortable time since to find her gaze no longer cold, but sympathetic, + and—if I may be allowed to say so—admiring. When at last I sat + down beside her, she put her hand on my arm in a way that I had missed + since the unfortunate affair of the pharmacy whiskey. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dane then read and explained the two clippings and the letter, and + the situation, so far as it had developed, was before the Club. + </p> + <p> + Were we to go on, or to stop? + </p> + <p> + Put to a vote, the women were for going on. The men were more doubtful, + and Herbert voiced what I think we all felt. + </p> + <p> + “We’re getting in pretty deep,” he said. “We have no right to step in + where the law has stepped out—no legal right, that is. As to moral + right, it depends on what we are holding these sittings for. If we are + making what we started out to make, an investigation into psychic matters, + then we can go on. But with this proviso, I think: Whatever may come of + it, the result is of psychic interest only. We are not trailing a + criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “Crime is the affair of every decent-minded citizen,” his sister put in + concisely. + </p> + <p> + But the general view was that Herbert was right. I am not defending our + course. I am recording it. It is, I admit, open to argument. + </p> + <p> + Having decided on what to do, or not to do, we broke into animated + discussion. The letter to A 31 was the rock on which all our theories + foundered, that and the message the governess had sent to Charlie + Ellingham not to come to the Wells house that night. By no stretch of + rather excited imaginations could we imagine Ellingham writing such a + letter. Who had written the letter, then, and for whom was it meant? + </p> + <p> + As to the telephone message, it seemed to preclude the possibility of + Ellingham’s having gone to the house that night. But the fact remained + that a man, as yet unidentified, was undoubtedly concerned in the case, + had written the letter, and had probably been in the Wells house the night + I went there alone. + </p> + <p> + In the end, we decided to hold one more seance, and then, unless the + further developments were such that we must go on, to let the affair drop. + </p> + <p> + It is typical of the strained nervous tension which had developed in all + of us during the past twelve days, that that night when, having forgotten + to let the dog in, my wife and I were roused from a sound sleep by his + howling, she would not allow me to go down and admit him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <p> + On Sunday I went to church. I felt, after the strange phenomena in Mrs. + Dane’s drawing-room, and after the contact with tragedy to which they had + led, that I must hold with a sort of desperation to the traditions and + beliefs by which I had hitherto regulated my conduct. And the church did + me good. Between the immortality it taught and the theory of spiritualism + as we had seen it in action there was a great gulf, and I concluded that + this gulf was the soul. The conclusion that mind and certain properties of + mind survived was not enough. The thought of a disembodied intelligence + was pathetic, depressing. But the thought of a glorified soul was the hope + of the world. + </p> + <p> + My wife, too, was in a penitent and rather exalted mood. During the sermon + she sat with her hand in mine, and I was conscious of peace and a deep + thankfulness. We had been married for many years, and we had grown very + close. Of what importance was the Wells case, or what mattered it that + there were strange new-old laws in the universe, so long as we kept + together? + </p> + <p> + That my wife had felt a certain bitterness toward Miss Jeremy, a jealousy + of her powers, even of her youth, had not dawned on me. But when, in her + new humility, she suggested that we call on the medium that afternoon. I + realized that, in her own way, she was making a sort of atonement. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jeremy lived with an elderly spinster cousin, a short distance out of + town. It was a grim house, coldly and rigidly Calvinistic. It gave an + unpleasant impression at the start, and our comfort was not increased by + the discovery, made early in the call, that the cousin regarded the + Neighborhood Club and its members with suspicion. + </p> + <p> + The cousin—her name was Connell—was small and sharp, and she + entered the room followed by a train of cats. All the time she was + frigidly greeting us, cats were coming in at the door, one after the + other. It fascinated me. I do not like cats. I am, as a matter of + confession, afraid of cats. They affect me as do snakes. They trailed in + in a seemingly endless procession, and one of them took a fancy to me, and + leaped from behind on to my shoulder. The shock set me stammering. + </p> + <p> + “My cousin is out,” said Miss Connell. “Doctor Sperry has taken her for a + ride. She will be back very soon.” + </p> + <p> + I shook a cat from my trouser leg, and my wife made an unimportant remark. + </p> + <p> + “I may as well tell you, I disapprove of what Alice is doing,” said Miss + Connell. “She doesn’t have to. I’ve offered her a good home. She was + brought up a Presbyterian. I call this sort of thing playing with the + powers of darkness. Only the eternally damned are doomed to walk the + earth. The blessed are at rest.” + </p> + <p> + “But you believe in her powers, don’t you?” my wife asked. + </p> + <p> + “I believe she can do extraordinary things. She saw my father’s spirit in + this very room last night, and described him, although she had never seen + him.” + </p> + <p> + As she had said that only the eternally damned were doomed to walk the + earth, I was tempted to comment on this stricture on her departed parent, + but a large cat, much scarred with fighting and named Violet, insisted at + that moment on crawling into my lap, and my attention was distracted. + </p> + <p> + “But the whole thing is un-Christian and undignified,” Miss Connell + proceeded, in her cold voice. “Come, Violet, don’t annoy the gentleman. I + have other visions of the next life than of rapping on tables and chairs, + and throwing small articles about.” + </p> + <p> + It was an extraordinary visit. Even the arrival of Miss Jeremy herself, + flushed with the air and looking singularly normal, was hardly a relief. + Sperry, who followed, was clearly pleased to see us, however. + </p> + <p> + It was not hard to see how things were with him. He helped the girl out of + her wraps with a manner that was almost proprietary, and drew a chair for + her close to the small fire which hardly affected the chill of the room. + </p> + <p> + With their entrance a spark of hospitality seemed to kindle in the cat + lady’s breast. It was evident that she liked Sperry. Perhaps she saw in + him a method of weaning her cousin from traffic with the powers of + darkness. She said something about tea, and went out. + </p> + <p> + Sperry looked across at the girl and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell them?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I want very much to have them know.” + </p> + <p> + He stood up, and with that unconscious drama which actuates a man at a + crisis in his affairs, he put a hand on her shoulder. “This young lady is + going to marry me,” he said. “We are very happy today.” + </p> + <p> + But I thought he eyed us anxiously. We were very close friends, and he + wanted our approval. I am not sure if we were wise. I do not yet know. But + something of the new understanding between my wife and myself must have + found its way to our voices, for he was evidently satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “Then that’s all right,” he said heartily. And my wife, to my surprise, + kissed the girl. + </p> + <p> + Except for the cats, sitting around, the whole thing was strangely normal. + And yet, even there, something happened that set me to thinking afterward. + Not that it was strange in itself, but that it seemed never possible to + get very far away from the Wells mystery. + </p> + <p> + Tea was brought in by Hawkins! + </p> + <p> + I knew him immediately, but he did not at once see me. He was evidently + accustomed to seeing Sperry there, and he did not recognize my wife. But + when he had put down the tray and turned to pick up Sperry’s overcoat to + carry it into the hall, he saw me. The man actually started. I cannot say + that he changed color. He was always a pale, anemic-looking individual. + But it was a perceptible instant before he stooped and gathered up the + coat. + </p> + <p> + Sperry turned to me when he had gone out. “That was Hawkins, Horace,” he + said. “You remember, don’t you? The Wellses’ butler.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “He wrote to me asking for a position, and I got him this. Looks sick, + poor devil. I intend to have a go at his chest.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has he been here?” + </p> + <p> + “More than a week, I think.” + </p> + <p> + As I drank my tea, I pondered. After all, the Neighborhood Club must guard + against the possibility of fraud, and I felt that Sperry had been + indiscreet, to say the least. From the time of Hawkins’ service in Miss + Jeremy’s home there would always be the suspicion of collusion between + them. I did not believe it was so, but Herbert, for instance, would be + inclined to suspect her. Suppose that Hawkins knew about the crime? Or + knew something and surmised the rest? + </p> + <p> + When we rose to go Sperry drew me aside. + </p> + <p> + “You think I’ve made a mistake?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + He flung away with an impatient gesture, then came back to me. + </p> + <p> + “Now look here,” he said, “I know what you mean, and the whole idea is + absurd. Of course I never thought about it, but even allowing for + connivance—which I don’t for a moment—the fellow was not in + the house at the time of the murder.” + </p> + <p> + “I know he says he was not.” + </p> + <p> + “Even then,” he said, “how about the first sitting? I’ll swear she had + never even heard of him then.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact remains that his presence here makes us all absurd.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to throw him out?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see what possible good that will do now.” + </p> + <p> + I was uneasy all the way home. The element of doubt, always so imminent in + our dealings with psychic phenomena, had me by the throat. How much did + Hawkins know? Was there any way, without going to the police, to find if + he had really been out of the Wellses’ house that night, now almost two + weeks ago, when Arthur Wells had been killed? + </p> + <p> + That evening I went to Sperry’s house, after telephoning that I was + coming. On the way I stopped in at Mrs. Dane’s and secured something from + her. She was wildly curious, and made me promise to go in on my way back, + and explain. I made a compromise. + </p> + <p> + “I will come in if I have anything to tell you,” I said. + </p> + <p> + But I knew, by her grim smile, that she would station herself by her + window, and that I would stop, unless I made a detour of three blocks to + avoid her. She is a very determined woman. + </p> + <p> + Sperry was waiting for me in his library, a pleasant room which I have + often envied him. Even the most happily married man wishes, now and then, + for some quiet, dull room which is essentially his own. My own library is + really the family sitting-room, and a Christmas or so ago my wife + presented me with a very handsome phonograph instrument. My reading, + therefore, is done to music, and the necessity for putting my book down to + change the record at times interferes somewhat with my train of thought. + </p> + <p> + So I entered Sperry’s library with appreciation. He was standing by the + fire, with the grave face and slightly bent head of his professional + manner. We say, in the neighborhood, that Sperry uses his professional + manner as armor, so I was rather prepared to do battle; but he forestalled + me. + </p> + <p> + “Horace,” he said, “I have been a fool, a driveling idiot. We were getting + something at those sittings. Something real. She’s wonderful. She’s going + to give it up, but the fact remains that she has some power we haven’t, + and now I’ve discredited her! I see it plainly enough.” He was rather + bitter about it, but not hostile. His fury was at himself. “Of course,” he + went on, “I am sure that she got nothing from Hawkins. But the fact + remains—” He was hurt in his pride of her. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” I said, “if you kept the letter Hawkins wrote you when he + asked for a position.” + </p> + <p> + He was not sure. He went into his consulting room and was gone for some + time. I took the opportunity to glance over his books and over the room. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Wells’s stick was standing in a corner, and I took it up and + examined it. It was an English malacca, light and strong, and had seen + service. It was long, too long for me; it occurred to me that Wells had + been about my height, and that it was odd that he should have carried so + long a stick. There was no ease in swinging it. + </p> + <p> + From that to the memory of Hawkins’s face when Sperry took it, the night + of the murder, in the hall of the Wells house, was only a step. I seemed + that day to be thinking considerably about Hawkins. + </p> + <p> + When Sperry returned I laid the stick on the table. There can be no doubt + that I did so, for I had to move a book-rack to place it. One end, the + handle, was near the ink-well, and the ferrule lay on a copy of Gibson’s + “Life Beyond the Grave,” which Sperry had evidently been reading. + </p> + <p> + Sperry had found the letter. As I glanced at it I recognized the writing + at once, thin and rather sexless, Spencerian. + </p> + <p> + Dear Sir: Since Mr. Wells’s death I am out of employment. Before I took + the position of butler with Mr. Wells I was valet to Mr. Ellingham, and + before that, in England, to Lord Condray. I have a very good letter of + recommendation from Lord Condray. If you need a servant at this time I + would do my best to give satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + (Signed) ARTHUR HAWKINS. + </p> + <p> + I put down the application, and took the anonymous letter about the bag + from my pocketbook. “Read this, Sperry,” I said. “You know the letter. + Mrs. Dane read it to us Saturday night. But compare the writing.” + </p> + <p> + He compared the two, with a slight lifting of his eyebrows. Then he put + them down. “Hawkins!” he said. “Hawkins has the letters! And the bag!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” I commented dryly. “In other words, Hawkins was in Miss + Jeremy’s house when, at the second sitting, she told of the letters.” + </p> + <p> + I felt rather sorry for Sperry. He paced the room wretchedly, the two + letters in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “But why should he tell her, if he did?” he demanded. “The writer of that + anonymous letter was writing for only one person. Every effort is made to + conceal his identity.” + </p> + <p> + I felt that he was right. The point was well taken. + </p> + <p> + “The question now is, to whom was it written?” We pondered that, to no + effect. That Hawkins had certain letters which touched on the Wells + affair, that they were probably in his possession in the Connell house, + was clear enough. But we had no possible authority for trying to get the + letters, although Sperry was anxious to make the attempt. + </p> + <p> + “Although I feel,” he said, “that it is too late to help her very much. + She is innocent; I know that. I think you know that, too, deep in that + legal mind of yours. It is wrong to discredit her because I did a foolish + thing.” He warmed to his argument. “Why, think, man,” he said. “The whole + first sitting was practically coincident with the crime itself.” + </p> + <p> + It was true enough. Whatever suspicion might be cast on the second seance, + the first at least remained inexplicable, by any laws we recognized. In a + way, I felt sorry for Sperry. Here he was, on the first day of his + engagement, protesting her honesty, her complete ignorance of the + revelations she had made and his intention to keep her in ignorance, and + yet betraying his own anxiety and possible doubt in the same breath. + </p> + <p> + “She did not even know there was a family named Wells. When I said that + Hawkins had been employed by the Wells, it meant nothing to her. I was + watching.” + </p> + <p> + So even Sperry was watching. He was in love with her, but his scientific + mind, like my legal one, was slow to accept what during the past two weeks + it had been asked to accept. + </p> + <p> + I left him at ten o’clock. Mrs. Dane was still at her window, and her + far-sighted old eyes caught me as I tried to steal past. She rapped on the + window, and I was obliged to go in. Obliged, too, to tell her of the + discovery and, at last, of Hawkins being in the Connell house. + </p> + <p> + “I want those letters, Horace,” she said at last. + </p> + <p> + “So do I. I’m not going to steal them.” + </p> + <p> + “The question is, where has he got them?” + </p> + <p> + “The question is, dear lady, that they are not ours to take.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not his, either.” + </p> + <p> + Well, that was true enough. But I had done all the private investigating I + cared to. And I told her so. She only smiled cryptically. + </p> + <p> + So far as I know, Mrs. Dane was the only one among us who had entirely + escaped certain strange phenomena during that period, and as I have only + so far recorded my own experiences, I shall here place in order the + various manifestations made to the other members of the Neighborhood Club + during that trying period and in their own words. As none of them have + suffered since, a certain allowance must be made for our nervous strain. + As before, I shall offer no explanation. + </p> + <p> + Alice Robinson: On night following second seance saw a light in room, not + referable to any outside influence. Was an amorphous body which glowed + pallidly and moved about wall over fireplace, gradually coming to stop in + a corner, where it faded and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Clara, Mrs. Dane’s secretary: Had not slept much since first seance. Was + frequently conscious that she was not alone in room, but on turning on + light room was always empty. Wakened twice with sense of extreme cold. (I + have recorded my own similar experience.) + </p> + <p> + Sperry has consistently maintained that he had no experiences whatever + during that period, but admits that he heard various knockings in his + bedroom at night, which he attributed to the lighting of his furnace, and + the resulting expansion of the furniture due to heat. + </p> + <p> + Herbert Robinson: Herbert was the most difficult member of the Club from + whom to secure data, but he has recently confessed that he was wakened one + night by the light falling on to his bed from a picture which hung on the + wall over his mantelpiece, and which stood behind a clock, two glass vases + and a pair of candlesticks. The door of his room was locked at the time. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Johnson: Had a great many minor disturbances, so that on rousing one + night to find me closing a window against a storm she thought I was a + spectre, and to this day insists that I only entered her room when I heard + her scream. For this reason I have made no record of her various + experiences, as I felt that her nervous condition precluded accurate + observation. + </p> + <p> + As in all records of psychic phenomena, the human element must be + considered, and I do not attempt either to analyze these various phenomena + or to explain them. Herbert, for instance, has been known to walk in his + sleep. But I respectfully offer, as opposed to this, that my watch has + never been known to walk at all, and that Mrs. Johnson’s bracelet could + hardly be accused of an attack of nerves. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + The following day was Monday. When I came downstairs I found a neat bundle + lying in the hall, and addressed to me. My wife had followed me down, and + we surveyed it together. + </p> + <p> + I had a curious feeling about the parcel, and was for cutting the cord + with my knife. But my wife is careful about string. She has always fancied + that the time would come when we would need some badly, and it would not + be around. I have an entire drawer of my chiffonier, which I really need + for other uses, filled with bundles of twine, pink, white and brown. I + recall, on one occasion, packing a suit-case in the dusk, in great hasty, + and emptying the drawer containing my undergarments into it, to discover, + when I opened it on the train for my pajamas, nothing but rolls of cord + and several packages of Christmas ribbons. So I was obliged to wait until + she had untied the knots by means of a hairpin. + </p> + <p> + It was my overcoat! My overcoat, apparently uninjured, but with the + collection of keys I had made missing. + </p> + <p> + The address was printed, not written, in a large, strong hand, with a stub + pen. I did not, at the time, notice the loss of certain papers which had + been in the breast pocket. I am rather absent-minded, and it was not until + the night after the third sitting that they were recalled to my mind. + </p> + <p> + At something after eleven Herbert Robinson called me up at my office. He + was at Sperry’s house, Sperry having been his physician during his recent + illness. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Horace, this is Herbert.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. How are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Doing well, Sperry says. I’m at his place now. I’m speaking for him. He’s + got a patient.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You were here last night, he says.” Herbert has a circumlocutory manner + over the phone which irritates me. He begins slowly and does not know how + to stop. Talk with him drags on endlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I admit it,” I snapped. “It’s not a secret.” + </p> + <p> + He lowered his voice. “Do you happen to have noticed a walking-stick in + the library when you were here?” + </p> + <p> + “Which walking-stick?” + </p> + <p> + “You know. The one we—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I saw it.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t, by any chance, take it home with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I’m sure.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an absent-minded beggar, you know,” he explained. “You remember + about the fire-tongs. And a stick is like an umbrella. One is likely to + pick it up and—” + </p> + <p> + “One is not likely to do anything of the sort. At least, I didn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right. Every one well?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we’ll see you tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless you ring off and let me do some work,” I said irritably. + </p> + <p> + He rang off. I was ruffled, I admit; but I was uneasy, also. To tell the + truth, the affair of the fire-tongs had cost me my self-confidence. I + called up my wife, and she said Herbert was a fool and Sperry also. But + she made an exhaustive search of the premises, without result. Whoever had + taken the stick, I was cleared. Cleared, at least, for a time. There were + strange developments coming that threatened my peace of mind. + </p> + <p> + It was that day that I discovered that I was being watched. Shadowed, I + believe is the technical word. I daresay I had been followed from my + house, but I had not noticed. When I went out to lunch a youngish man in a + dark overcoat was waiting for the elevator, and I saw him again when I + came out of my house. We went downtown again on the same car. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps I would have thought nothing of it, had I not been summoned to the + suburbs on a piece of business concerning a mortgage. He was at the far + end of the platform as I took the train to return to the city, with his + back to me. I lost him in the crowd at the downtown station, but he + evidently had not lost me, for, stopping to buy a newspaper, I turned, + and, as my pause had evidently been unexpected, he almost ran into me. + </p> + <p> + With that tendency of any man who finds himself under suspicion to search + his past for some dereliction, possibly forgotten, I puzzled over the + situation for some time that afternoon. I did not connect it with the + Wells case, for in that matter I was indisputably the hunter, not the + hunted. + </p> + <p> + Although I found no explanation for the matter, I did not tell my wife + that evening. Women are strange and she would, I feared, immediately jump + to the conclusion that there was something in my private life that I was + keeping from her. + </p> + <p> + Almost all women, I have found, although not over-conscious themselves of + the charm and attraction of their husbands, are of the conviction that + these husbands exert a dangerous fascination over other women, and that + this charm, which does not reveal itself in the home circle, is used + abroad with occasionally disastrous effect. + </p> + <p> + My preoccupation, however, did not escape my wife, and she commented on it + at dinner. + </p> + <p> + “You are generally dull, Horace,” she said, “but tonight you are deadly.” + </p> + <p> + After dinner I went into our reception room, which is not lighted unless + we are expecting guests, and peered out of the window. The detective, or + whoever he might be, was walking negligently up the street. + </p> + <p> + As that was the night of the third seance, I find that my record covers + the fact that Mrs. Dane was housecleaning, for which reason we had not + been asked to dinner, that my wife and I dined early, at six-thirty, and + that it was seven o’clock when Sperry called me by telephone. + </p> + <p> + “Can you come to my office at once?” he asked. “I dare say Mrs. Johnson + won’t mind going to the Dane house alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything new?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I want to get into the Wells house again. Bring the keys.” + </p> + <p> + “They were in the overcoat. It came back today, but the keys are missing.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you lock the back door?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t remember. No, of course not. I didn’t have the keys.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there’s a chance,” he observed, after a moment’s pause. “Anyhow, + it’s worth trying. Herbert told you about the stick?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I never had it, Sperry.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, during this conversation my wife was upstairs dressing. I + knew quite well that she would violently oppose a second visit on my part + to the deserted house down the street. I therefore left a message for her + that I had gone on, and, finding the street clear, met Sperry at his + door-step. + </p> + <p> + “This is the last sitting, Horace,” he explained, “and I feel we ought to + have the most complete possible knowledge, beforehand. We will be in a + better position to understand what comes. There are two or three things we + haven’t checked up on.” + </p> + <p> + He slipped an arm through mine, and we started down the street. “I’m going + to get to the bottom of this, Horace, old dear,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, we’re pledged to a psychic investigation only.” + </p> + <p> + “Rats!” he said rudely. “We are going to find out who killed Arthur Wells, + and if he deserves hanging we’ll hang him.” + </p> + <p> + “Or her?” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t Elinor Wells,” he said positively. “Here’s the point: if he’s + been afraid to go back for his overcoat it’s still there. I don’t expect + that, however. But the thing about the curtain interests me. I’ve been + reading over my copy of the notes on the sittings. It was said, you + remember, that curtains—some curtains—would have been better + places to hide the letters than the bag.” + </p> + <p> + I stopped suddenly. “By Jove, Sperry,” I said. “I remember now. My notes + of the sittings were in my overcoat.” + </p> + <p> + “And they are gone?” + </p> + <p> + “They are gone.” + </p> + <p> + He whistled softly. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Then the other person, + whoever he is, knows what we know!” + </p> + <p> + He was considerably startled when I told him I had been shadowed, and + insisted that it referred directly to the case in hand. “He’s got your + notes,” he said, “and he’s got to know what your next move is going to + be.” + </p> + <p> + His intention, I found, was to examine the carpet outside of the + dressing-room door, and the floor beneath it, to discover if possible + whether Arthur Wells had fallen there and been moved. + </p> + <p> + “Because I think you are right,” he said. “He wouldn’t have been likely to + shoot himself in a hall, and because the very moving of the body would be + in itself suspicious. Then I want to look at the curtains. ‘The curtains + would have been safer.’ Safer for what? For the bag with the letters, + probably, for she followed that with the talk about Hawkins. He’d got + them, and somebody was afraid he had.” + </p> + <p> + “Just where does Hawkins come in, Sperry?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I’m damned if I know,” he reflected. “We may learn tonight.” + </p> + <p> + The Wells house was dark and forbidding. We walked past it once, as an + officer was making his rounds in leisurely fashion, swinging his + night-stick in circles. But on our return the street was empty, and we + turned in at the side entry. + </p> + <p> + I led the way with comparative familiarity. It was, you will remember, my + third similar excursion. With Sperry behind me I felt confident. + </p> + <p> + “In case the door is locked, I have a few skeleton keys,” said Sperry. + </p> + <p> + We had reached the end of the narrow passage, and emerged into the square + of brick and grass that lay behind the house. While the night was clear, + the place lay in comparative darkness. Sperry stumbled over something, and + muttered to himself. + </p> + <p> + The rear porch lay in deep shadow. We went up the steps together. Then + Sperry stopped, and I advanced to the doorway. It was locked. + </p> + <p> + With my hand on the door-knob, I turned to Sperry. He was struggling + violently with a dark figure, and even as I turned they went over with a + crash and rolled together down the steps. Only one of them rose. + </p> + <p> + I was terrified. I confess it. It was impossible to see whether it was + Sperry or his assailant. If it was Sperry who lay in a heap on the ground, + I felt that I was lost. I could not escape. The way was blocked, and + behind me the door, to which I now turned frantically, was a barrier I + could not move. + </p> + <p> + Then, out of the darkness behind me, came Sperry’s familiar, booming bass. + “I’ve knocked him out, I’m afraid. Got a match, Horace?” + </p> + <p> + Much shaken, I went down the steps and gave Sperry a wooden toothpick, + under the impression that it was a match. That rectified, we bent over the + figure on the bricks. + </p> + <p> + “Knocked out, for sure,” said Sperry, “but I think it’s not serious. A + watchman, I suppose. Poor devil, we’ll have to get him into the house.” + </p> + <p> + The lock gave way to manipulation at last, and the door swung open. There + came to us the heavy odor of all closed houses, a combination of carpets, + cooked food, and floor wax. My nerves, now taxed to their utmost, fairly + shrank from it, but Sperry was cool. + </p> + <p> + He bore the brunt of the weight as we carried the watchman in, holding him + with his arms dangling, helpless and rather pathetic. Sperry glanced + around. + </p> + <p> + “Into the kitchen,” he said. “We can lock him in.” + </p> + <p> + We had hardly laid him on the floor when I heard the slow stride of the + officer of the beat. He had turned into the paved alley-way, and was + advancing with measured, ponderous steps. Fortunately I am an agile man, + and thus I was able to get to the outer door, reverse the key and turn it + from the inside, before I heard him hailing the watchman. + </p> + <p> + “Hello there!” he called. “George, I say! George!” + </p> + <p> + He listened for a moment, then came up and tried the door. I crouched + inside, as guilty as the veriest house-breaker in the business. But he had + no suspicion, clearly, for he turned and went away, whistling as he went. + </p> + <p> + Not until we heard him going down the street again, absently running his + night-stick along the fence palings, did Sperry or I move. + </p> + <p> + “A narrow squeak, that,” I said, mopping my face. + </p> + <p> + “A miss is as good as a mile,” he observed, and there was a sort of + exultation in his voice. He is a born adventurer. + </p> + <p> + He came out into the passage and quickly locked the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, friend Horace,” he said, “if you have anything but toothpicks for + matches, we will look for the overcoat, and then we will go upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he wakens and raises an alarm?” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll be out of luck. That’s all.” + </p> + <p> + As we had anticipated, there was no overcoat in the library, and after + listening a moment at the kitchen door, we ascended a rear staircase to + the upper floor. I had, it will be remembered, fallen from a chair on a + table in the dressing room, and had left them thus overturned when I + charged the third floor. The room, however, was now in perfect order, and + when I held my candle to the ceiling, I perceived that the bullet hole had + again been repaired, and this time with such skill that I could not even + locate it. + </p> + <p> + “We are up against some one cleverer than we are, Sperry,” I acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + “And who has more to lose than we have to gain,” he added cheerfully. + “Don’t worry about that, Horace. You’re a married man and I’m not. If a + woman wanted to hide some letters from her husband, and chose a curtain + for a receptacle, what room would hide them in. Not in his dressing-room, + eh?” + </p> + <p> + He took the candle and led the way to Elinor Wells’s bedroom. Here, + however, the draperies were down, and we would have been at a loss, had I + not remembered my wife’s custom of folding draperies when we close the + house, and placing them under the dusting sheets which cover the various + beds. + </p> + <p> + Our inspection of the curtains was hurried, and broken by various + excursions on my part to listen for the watchman. But he remained quiet + below, and finally we found what we were looking for. In the lining of one + of the curtains, near the bottom, a long, ragged cut had been made. + </p> + <p> + “Cut in a hurry, with curved scissors,” was Sperry’s comment. “Probably + manicure scissors.” + </p> + <p> + The result was a sort of pocket in the curtain, concealed on the chintz + side, which was the side which would hang toward the room. + </p> + <p> + “Probably,” he said, “the curtain would have been better. It would have + stayed anyhow. Whereas the bag—” He was flushed with triumph. “How + in the world would Hawkins know that?” he demanded. “You can talk all you + like. She’s told us things that no one ever told her.” + </p> + <p> + Before examining the floor in the hall I went downstairs and listened + outside the kitchen door. The watchman was stirring inside the room, and + groaning occasionally. Sperry, however, when I told him, remained cool and + in his exultant mood, and I saw that he meant to vindicate Miss Jeremy if + he flung me into jail and the newspapers while doing it. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll have a go at the floors under the carpets now,” he said. “If he + gets noisy, you can go down with the fire-tongs. I understand you are an + expert with them.” + </p> + <p> + The dressing-room had a large rug, like the nursery above it, and turning + back the carpet was a simple matter. There had been a stain beneath where + the dead man’s head had lain, but it had been scrubbed and scraped away. + The boards were white for an area of a square foot or so. + </p> + <p> + Sperry eyed the spot with indifference. “Not essential,” he said. “Shows + good housekeeping. That’s all. The point is, are there other spots?” + </p> + <p> + And, after a time, we found what we were after. The upper hall was + carpeted, and my penknife came into requisition to lift the tacks. They + came up rather easily, as if but recently put in. That, indeed, proved to + be the case. + </p> + <p> + Just outside the dressing-room door the boards for an area of two square + feet or more beneath the carpet had been scraped and scrubbed. With the + lifting of the carpet came, too, a strong odor, as of ammonia. But the + stain of blood had absolutely disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Sperry, kneeling on the floor with the candle held close, examined the + wood. “Not only scrubbed,” he said, “but scraped down, probably with a + floor-scraper. It’s pretty clear, Horace. The poor devil fell here. There + was a struggle, and he went down. He lay there for a while, too, until + some plan was thought out. A man does not usually kill himself in a + hallway. It’s a sort of solitary deed. He fell here, and was dragged into + the room. The angle of the bullet in the ceiling would probably show it + came from here, too, and went through the doorway.” + </p> + <p> + We were startled at that moment by a loud banging below. Sperry leaped to + his feet and caught up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “The watchman,” he said. “We’d better get out. He’ll have all the + neighbors in at that rate.” + </p> + <p> + He was still hammering on the door as we went down the rear stairs, and + Sperry stood outside the door and to one side. + </p> + <p> + “Keep out of range, Horace,” he cautioned me. And to the watchman: + </p> + <p> + “Now, George, we will put the key under the door, and in ten minutes you + may come out. Don’t come sooner. I’ve warned you.” + </p> + <p> + By the faint light from outside I could see him stooping, not in front of + the door, but behind it. And it was well he did, for the moment the key + was on the other side, a shot zipped through one of the lower panels. I + had not expected it and it set me to shivering. + </p> + <p> + “No more of that, George,” said Sperry calmly and cheerfully. “This is a + quiet neighborhood, and we don’t like shooting. What is more, my friend + here is very expert with his own particular weapon, and at any moment he + may go to the fire-place in the library and—” + </p> + <p> + I have no idea why Sperry chose to be facetious at that time, and my + resentment rises as I record it. For when we reached the yard we heard the + officer running along the alley-way, calling as he ran. + </p> + <p> + “The fence, quick,” Sperry said. + </p> + <p> + I am not very good at fences, as a rule, but I leaped that one like a cat, + and came down in a barrel of waste-paper on the other side. Getting me out + was a breathless matter, finally accomplished by turning the barrel over + so that I could crawl out. We could hear the excited voices of the two men + beyond the fence, and we ran. I was better than Sperry at that. I ran like + a rabbit. I never even felt my legs. And Sperry pounded on behind me. + </p> + <p> + We heard, behind us, one of the men climbing the fence. But in jumping + down he seemed to have struck the side of the overturned barrel. Probably + it rolled and threw him, for that part of my mind which was not intent on + flight heard him fall, and curse loudly. + </p> + <p> + “Go to it,” Sperry panted behind me. “Roll over and break your neck.” + </p> + <p> + This, I need hardly explain, was meant for our pursuer. + </p> + <p> + We turned a corner and were out on one of the main thoroughfares. + Instantly, so innate is cunning to the human brain, we fell to walking + sedately. + </p> + <p> + It was as well that we did, for we had not gone a half block before we saw + our policeman again, lumbering toward us and blowing a whistle as he ran. + </p> + <p> + “Stop and get this street-car,” Sperry directed me. “And don’t breathe so + hard.” + </p> + <p> + The policeman stared at us fixedly, stopping to do so, but all he saw was + two well-dressed and professional-looking men, one of them rather elderly + who was hailing a street-car. I had the presence of mind to draw my watch + and consult it. + </p> + <p> + “Just in good time,” I said distinctly, and we mounted the car step. + Sperry remained on the platform and lighted a cigar. This gave him a + chance to look back. + </p> + <p> + “Rather narrow squeak, that,” he observed, as he came in and sat down + beside me. “Your gray hairs probably saved us.” + </p> + <p> + I was quite numb from the waist down, from my tumble and from running, and + it was some time before I could breathe quietly. Suddenly Sperry fell to + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you could have seen yourself in that barrel, and crawling out,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + We reached Mrs. Dane’s, to find that Miss Jeremy had already arrived, + looking rather pale, as I had noticed she always did before a seance. Her + color had faded, and her eyes seemed sunken in her head. + </p> + <p> + “Not ill, are you?” Sperry asked her, as he took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. But I am anxious. I always am. These things do not come for + the calling.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the last time. You have promised.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The last time.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <p> + It appeared that Herbert Robinson had been reading, during his + convalescence, a considerable amount of psychic literature, and that we + were to hold this third and final sitting under test conditions. As + before, the room had been stripped of furniture, and the cloth and rod + which formed the low screen behind Miss Jeremy’s chair were not of her own + providing, but Herbert’s. + </p> + <p> + He had also provided, for some reason or other, eight small glass cups, + into which he placed the legs of the two tables, and in a business-like + manner he set out on the large stand a piece of white paper, a pencil, and + a spool of black thread. It is characteristic of Miss Jeremy, and of her + own ignorance of the methods employed in professional seances, that she + was as much interested and puzzled as we were. + </p> + <p> + When he had completed his preparations, Herbert made a brief speech. + </p> + <p> + “Members of the Neighborhood Club,” he said impressively, “we have agreed + among ourselves that this is to be our last meeting for the purpose that + is before us. I have felt, therefore, that in justice to the medium this + final seance should leave us with every conviction of its genuineness. + Whatever phenomena occur, the medium must be, as she has been, above + suspicion. For the replies of her ‘control,’ no particular precaution + seems necessary, or possible. But the first seance divided itself into two + parts: an early period when, so far as we could observe, the medium was at + least partly conscious, possibly fully so, when physical demonstrations + occurred. And a second, or trance period, during which we received replies + to questions. It is for the physical phenomena that I am about to take + certain precautions.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to tie me?” Miss Jeremy asked. + </p> + <p> + “Do you object?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. But with what?” + </p> + <p> + “With silk thread,” Herbert said, smilingly. + </p> + <p> + She held out her wrists at once, but Herbert placed her in her chair, and + proceeded to wrap her, chair and all, in a strong network of fine threads, + drawn sufficiently taut to snap with any movement. + </p> + <p> + He finished by placing her feet on the sheet of paper, and outlining their + position there with a pencil line. + </p> + <p> + The proceedings were saved from absurdity by what we all felt was the + extreme gravity of the situation. There were present in the room Mrs. + Dane, the Robinsons, Sperry, my wife and myself. Clara, Mrs. Dane’s + secretary, had begged off on the plea of nervousness from the earlier and + physical portion of the seance, and was to remain outside in the hall + until the trance commenced. + </p> + <p> + Sperry objected to this, as movement in the circle during the trance had, + in the first seance, induced fretful uneasiness in the medium. But Clara, + appealed to, begged to be allowed to remain outside until she was + required, and showed such unmistakable nervousness that we finally agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Would a slight noise disturb her?” Mrs. Dane asked. + </p> + <p> + Miss Jeremy thought not, if the circle remained unbroken, and Mrs. Dane + considered. + </p> + <p> + “Bring me my stick from the hall, Horace,” she said. “And tell Clara I’ll + rap on the floor with it when I want her.” + </p> + <p> + I found a stick in the rack outside and brought it in. The lights were + still on in the chandelier overhead, and as I gave the stick to Mrs. Dane + I heard Sperry speaking sharply behind me. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get that stick?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “In the hall. I—” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw it before,” said Mrs. Dane. “Perhaps it is Herbert’s.” + </p> + <p> + But I caught Sperry’s eye. We had both recognized it. It was Arthur + Wells’s, the one which Sperry had taken from his room, and which, in turn, + had been taken from Sperry’s library. + </p> + <p> + Sperry was watching me with a sort of cynical amusement. + </p> + <p> + “You’re an absent-minded beggar, Horace,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t, by any chance, stop here on your way back from my place the + other night, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “I did. But I didn’t bring that thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Horace,” he said, more gently, “you come in and see me some + day soon. You’re not as fit as you ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + I confess to a sort of helpless indignation that was far from the + composure the occasion required. But the others, I believe, were fully + convinced that no human agency had operated to bring the stick into Mrs. + Dane’s house, a belief that prepared them for anything that might occur. + </p> + <p> + A number of things occurred almost as soon as the lights were out, + interrupting a train of thought in which I saw myself in the first stages + of mental decay, and carrying about the streets not only fire-tongs and + walking-sticks, but other portable property belonging to my friends. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps my excitement had a bad effect on the medium. She was uneasy and + complained that the threads that bound her arms were tight. She was + distinctly fretful. But after a time she settled down in her chair. Her + figure, a deeper shadow in the semi-darkness of the room, seemed sagged—seemed, + in some indefinable way, smaller. But there was none of the stertorous + breathing that preceded trance. + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly, a bell that Sperry had placed on the stand beyond the + black curtain commenced to ring. It rang at first gently, then violently. + It made a hideous clamor. I had a curious sense that it was ringing up in + the air, near the top of the curtain. It was a relief to have it thrown to + the ground, its racket silenced. + </p> + <p> + Quite without warning, immediately after, my chair twisted under me. “I am + being turned around,” I said, in a low tone. “It as if something has taken + hold of the back of the chair, and is twisting it. It has stopped now.” I + had been turned fully a quarter round. + </p> + <p> + For five minutes, by the luminous dial of my watch on the table before me, + nothing further occurred, except that the black curtain appeared to swell, + as in a wind. + </p> + <p> + “There is something behind it,” Alice Robinson said, in a terrorized tone. + “Something behind it, moving.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not possible,” Herbert assured her. “Nothing, that is—there + is only one door, and it is closed. I have examined the walls and floor + carefully.” + </p> + <p> + At the end of five minutes something soft and fragrant fell on to the + table near me. I had not noticed Herbert when he placed the flowers from + Mrs. Dane’s table on the stand, and I was more startled than the others. + Then the glass prisms in the chandelier over our heads clinked together, + as if they had been swept by a finger. More of the flowers came. We were + pelted with them. And into the quiet that followed there came a light, + fine but steady tattoo on the table in our midst. Then at last silence, + and the medium in deep trance, and Mrs. Dane rapping on the floor for + Clara. + </p> + <p> + When Clara came in, Mrs. Dane told her to switch on the lights. Miss + Jeremy had dropped in her chair until the silk across her chest was held + taut. But investigation showed that none of the threads were broken and + that her evening slippers still fitted into the outline on the paper + beneath them. Without getting up, Sperry reached to the stand behind Miss + Jeremy, and brought into view a piece of sculptor’s clay he had placed + there. The handle of the bell was now jammed into the mass. He had only + time to show it to us when the medium began to speak. + </p> + <p> + I find, on re-reading the earlier part of this record, that I have omitted + mention of Miss Jeremy’s “control.” So suddenly had we jumped, that first + evening, into the trail that led us to the Wells case, that beyond the + rather raucous “good-evening,” and possibly the extraneous matter + referring to Mother Goose and so on, we had been saved the usual + preliminary patter of the average control. + </p> + <p> + On this night, however, we were obliged to sit impatiently through a + rambling discourse, given in a half-belligerent manner, on the + deterioration of moral standards. Re-reading Clara’s notes, I find that + the subject matter is without originality and the diction inferior. But + the lecture ceased abruptly, and the time for questions had come. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” Herbert said, “we want you to go back to the house where you saw + the dead man on the floor. You know his name, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. “Yes. Of course I do. A. L. Wells.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur had been known to most of us by his Christian name, but the + initials were correct. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know it is an L.?” + </p> + <p> + “On letters,” was the laconic answer. Then: “Letters, letters, who has the + letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know whose cane this is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell us?” + </p> + <p> + Up to that time the replies had come easily and quickly. But beginning + with the cane question, the medium was in difficulties. She moved + uneasily, and spoke irritably. The replies were slow and grudging. Foreign + subjects were introduced, as now. + </p> + <p> + “Horace’s wife certainly bullies him,” said the voice. “He’s afraid of + her. And the fire-tongs—the fire-tongs—the fire-tongs!” + </p> + <p> + “Whose cane is this?” Herbert repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellingham’s.” + </p> + <p> + This created a profound sensation. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “He carried it at the seashore. He wrote in the sand with it.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he write?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “He wrote ‘ten o’clock’ in the sand, and the waves came and washed it + away?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Horace,” said my wife, leaning forward, “why not ask her about that stock + of mine? If it is going down, I ought to sell, oughtn’t I?” + </p> + <p> + Herbert eyed her with some exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “We are here to make a serious investigation,” he said. “If the members of + the club will keep their attention on what we are doing, we may get + somewhere. Now,” to the medium, “the man is dead, and the revolver is + beside him. Did he kill himself?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He attacked her when he found the letters.” + </p> + <p> + “And she shot him?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell you that.” + </p> + <p> + “Try very hard. It is important.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” was the fretful reply. “She may have. She hated him. I + don’t know. She says she did.” + </p> + <p> + “She says she killed him?” + </p> + <p> + But there was no reply to this, although Herbert repeated it several + times. + </p> + <p> + Instead, the voice of the “control” began to recite a verse of poetry—a + cheap, sentimental bit of trash. It was maddening, under the + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where the letters are?” + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins has them.” + </p> + <p> + “They were not hidden in the curtain?” This was Sperry. + </p> + <p> + “No. The police might have searched the room.” + </p> + <p> + “Where were these letters?” + </p> + <p> + There was no direct reply to this, but instead: + </p> + <p> + “He found them when he was looking for his razorstrop. They were in the + top of a closet. His revolver was there, too. He went back and got it. It + was terrible.” + </p> + <p> + There was a profound silence, followed by a slight exclamation from Sperry + as he leaped to his feet. The screen at the end of the room, which cut off + the light from Clara’s candle, was toppling. The next instant it fell, and + we saw Clara sprawled over her table, in a dead faint. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <p> + In this, the final chapter of the record of these seances, I shall give, + as briefly as possible, the events of the day following the third sitting. + I shall explain the mystery of Arthur Wells’s death, and I shall give the + solution arrived at by the Neighborhood Club as to the strange + communications from the medium, Miss Jeremy, now Sperry’s wife. + </p> + <p> + But there are some things I cannot explain. Do our spirits live on, on + this earth plane, now and then obedient to the wills of those yet living? + Is death, then, only a gateway into higher space, from which, through the + open door of a “sensitive” mind, we may be brought back on occasion to + commit the inadequate absurdities of the physical seance? + </p> + <p> + Or is Sperry right, and do certain individuals manifest powers of a purely + physical nature, but powers which Sperry characterizes as the survival of + some long-lost development by which at one time we knew how to liberate a + forgotten form of energy? + </p> + <p> + Who can say? We do not know. We have had to accept these things as they + have been accepted through the ages, and give them either a spiritual or a + purely natural explanation, as our minds happen to be adventurous or + analytic in type. + </p> + <p> + But outside of the purely physical phenomena of those seances, we are + provided with an explanation which satisfies the Neighborhood Club, even + if it fails to satisfy the convinced spiritist. We have been accused + merely of substituting one mystery for another, but I reply by saying that + the mystery we substitute is not a mystery, but an acknowledged fact. + </p> + <p> + On Tuesday morning I wakened after an uneasy night. I knew certain things, + knew them definitely in the clear light of morning. Hawkins had the + letters that Arthur Wells had found; that was one thing. I had not taken + Ellingham’s stick to Mrs. Dane’s house; that was another. I had not done + it. I had placed it on the table and had not touched it again. + </p> + <p> + But those were immaterial, compared with one outstanding fact. Any + supernatural solution would imply full knowledge by whatever power had + controlled the medium. And there was not full knowledge. There was, on the + contrary, a definite place beyond which the medium could not go. + </p> + <p> + She did not know who had killed Arthur Wells. + </p> + <p> + To my surprise, Sperry and Herbert Robinson came together to see me that + morning at my office. Sperry, like myself, was pale and tired, but Herbert + was restless and talkative, for all the world like a terrier on the scent + of a rat. + </p> + <p> + They had brought a newspaper account of an attempt by burglars to rob the + Wells house, and the usual police formula that arrests were expected to be + made that day. There was a diagram of the house, and a picture of the + kitchen door, with an arrow indicating the bullet-hole. + </p> + <p> + “Hawkins will be here soon,” Sperry said, rather casually, after I had + read the clipping. + </p> + <p> + “Here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He is bringing a letter from Miss Jeremy. The letter is merely a + blind. We want to see him.” + </p> + <p> + Herbert was examining the door of my office. He set the spring lock. “He + may try to bolt,” he explained. “We’re in this pretty deep, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “How about a record of what he says?” Sperry asked. + </p> + <p> + I pressed a button, and Miss Joyce came in. “Take the testimony of the man + who is coming in, Miss Joyce,” I directed. “Take everything we say, any of + us. Can you tell the different voices?” + </p> + <p> + She thought she could, and took up her position in the next room, with the + door partly open. + </p> + <p> + I can still see Hawkins as Sperry let him in—a tall, cadaverous man + of good manners and an English accent, a superior servant. He was cool but + rather resentful. I judged that he considered carrying letters as in no + way a part of his work, and that he was careful of his dignity. “Miss + Jeremy sent this, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Then his eyes took in Sperry and Herbert, and he drew himself up. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he said. “It wasn’t the letter, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not entirely. We want to have a talk with you, Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” But his eyes went from one to the other of us. + </p> + <p> + “You were in the employ of Mr. Wells. We know that. Also we saw you there + the night he died, but some time after his death. What time did you get in + that night?” + </p> + <p> + “About midnight. I am not certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you of what had happened?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you that before. I met the detectives going out.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. Now, Hawkins, you had come in, locked the door, and placed the + key outside for the other servants?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you expect us to believe that?” Sperry demanded irritably. “There + was only one key. Could you lock yourself in and then place the key + outside?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he replied impassively. “By opening the kitchen window, I + could reach out and hang it on the nail.” + </p> + <p> + “You were out of the house, then, at the time Mr. Wells died?” + </p> + <p> + “I can prove it by as many witnesses as you wish to call.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, about these letters, Hawkins,” Sperry said. “The letters in the bag. + Have you still got them?” + </p> + <p> + He half rose—we had given him a chair facing the light—and + then sat down again. “What letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t beat about the bush. We know you have the letters. And we want + them.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t intend to give them up, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell us how you got them?” He hesitated. “If you do not know + already, I do not care to say.” + </p> + <p> + I placed the letter to A 31 before him. “You wrote this, I think?” I said. + </p> + <p> + He was genuinely startled. More than that, indeed, for his face twitched. + “Suppose I did?” he said, “I’m not admitting it.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell us for whom it was meant?” + </p> + <p> + “You know a great deal already, gentlemen. Why not find that out from + where you learned the rest?” + </p> + <p> + “You know, then, where we learned what we know?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s easy,” he said bitterly. “She’s told you enough, I daresay. She + doesn’t know it all, of course. Any more than I do,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Will you give us the letters?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t said I have them. I haven’t admitted I wrote that one on the + desk. Suppose I have them, I’ll not give them up except to the District + Attorney.” + </p> + <p> + “By ‘she’ do you refer to Miss Jeremy?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + He stared at me, and then smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + “You know who I mean.” + </p> + <p> + We tried to assure him that we were not, in a sense, seeking to involve + him in the situation, and I even went so far as to state our position, + briefly: + </p> + <p> + “I’d better explain, Hawkins. We are not doing police work. But, owing to + a chain of circumstances, we have learned that Mr. Wells did not kill + himself. He was murdered, or at least shot, by some one else. It may not + have been deliberate. Owing to what we have learned, certain people are + under suspicion. We want to clear things up for our own satisfaction.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why is some one taking down what I say in the next room?” + </p> + <p> + He could only have guessed it, but he saw that he was right, by our faces. + He smiled bitterly. “Go on,” he said. “Take it down. It can’t hurt + anybody. I don’t know who did it, and that’s God’s truth.” + </p> + <p> + And, after long wrangling, that was as far as we got. + </p> + <p> + He suspected who had done it, but he did not know. He absolutely refused + to surrender the letters in his possession, and a sense of delicacy, I + think, kept us all from pressing the question of the A 31 matter. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a personal affair,” he said. “I’ve had a good bit of trouble. I’m + thinking now of going back to England.” + </p> + <p> + And, as I say, we did not insist. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone, there seemed to be nothing to say. He had left the same + impression on all of us, I think—of trouble, but not of crime. Of a + man fairly driven; of wretchedness that was almost despair. He still had + the letters. He had, after all, as much right to them as we had, which + was, actually, no right at all. And, whatever it was, he still had his + secret. + </p> + <p> + Herbert was almost childishly crestfallen. Sperry’s attitude was more + philosophical. + </p> + <p> + “A woman, of course,” he said. “The A 31 letter shows it. He tried to get + her back, perhaps, by holding the letters over her head. And it hasn’t + worked out. Poor devil! Only—who is the woman?” + </p> + <p> + It was that night, the fifteenth day after the crime, that the solution + came. Came as a matter of fact, to my door. + </p> + <p> + I was in the library, reading, or trying to read, a rather abstruse book + on psychic phenomena. My wife, I recall, had just asked me to change a + banjo record for “The End of a Pleasant Day,” when the bell rang. + </p> + <p> + In our modest establishment the maids retire early, and it is my custom, + on those rare occasions when the bell rings after nine o’clock, to answer + the door myself. + </p> + <p> + To my surprise, it was Sperry, accompanied by two ladies, one of them + heavily veiled. It was not until I had ushered them into the reception + room and lighted the gas that I saw who they were. It was Elinor Wells, in + deep mourning, and Clara, Mrs. Dane’s companion and secretary. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid I was rather excited, for I took Sperry’s hat from him, and + placed it on the head of a marble bust which I had given my wife on our + last anniversary, and Sperry says that I drew a smoking-stand up beside + Elinor Wells with great care. I do not know. It has, however, passed into + history in the Club, where every now and then for some time Herbert + offered one of the ladies a cigar, with my compliments. + </p> + <p> + My wife, I believe, was advancing along the corridor when Sperry closed + the door. As she had only had time to see that a woman was in the room, + she was naturally resentful, and retired to the upper floor, where I found + her considerably upset, some time later. + </p> + <p> + While I am quite sure that I was not thinking clearly at the opening of + the interview, I know that I was puzzled at the presence of Mrs. Dane’s + secretary, but I doubtless accepted it as having some connection with + Clara’s notes. And Sperry, at the beginning, made no comment on her at + all. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Wells suggested that we come here, Horace,” he began. “We may need a + legal mind on this. I’m not sure, or rather I think it unlikely. But just + in case—suppose you tell him, Elinor.” + </p> + <p> + I have no record of the story Elinor Wells told that night in our little + reception-room, with Clara sitting in a corner, grave and white. It was + fragmentary, inco-ordinate. But I got it all at last. + </p> + <p> + Charlie Ellingham had killed Arthur Wells, but in a struggle. In parts the + story was sordid enough. She did not spare herself, or her motives. She + had wanted luxury, and Arthur had not succeeded as he had promised. They + were in debt, and living beyond their means. But even that, she hastened + to add, would not have mattered, had he not been brutal with her. He had + made her life very wretched. + </p> + <p> + But on the subject of Charlie Ellingham she was emphatic. She knew that + there had been talk, but there had been no real basis for it. She had + turned to him for comfort, and he gave her love. She didn’t know where he + was now, and didn’t greatly care, but she would like to recover and + destroy some letters he had written her. + </p> + <p> + She was looking crushed and ill, and she told her story incoordinately and + nervously. Reduced to its elements, it was as follows: + </p> + <p> + On the night of Arthur Wells’s death they were dressing for a ball. She + had made a private arrangement with Ellingham to plead a headache at the + last moment and let Arthur go alone. But he had been so insistent that she + had been forced to go, after all. She had sent the governess, Suzanne + Gautier, out to telephone Ellingham not to come, but he was not at his + house, and the message was left with his valet. As it turned out, he had + already started. + </p> + <p> + Elinor was dressed, all but her ball-gown, and had put on a negligee, to + wait for the governess to return and help her. Arthur was in his + dressing-room, and she heard him grumbling about having no blades for his + safety razor. + </p> + <p> + He got out a case of razors and searched for the strop. When she + remembered where the strop was, it was too late. The letters had been + beside it, and he was coming toward her, with them in his hand. + </p> + <p> + She was terrified. He had read only one, but that was enough. He muttered + something and turned away. She saw his face as he went toward where the + revolver had been hidden from the children, and she screamed. + </p> + <p> + Charlie Ellingham heard her. The door had been left unlocked by the + governess, and he was in the lower hall. He ran up and the two men + grappled. The first shot was fired by Arthur. It struck the ceiling. The + second she was doubtful about. She thought the revolver was still in + Arthur’s hand. It was all horrible. He went down like a stone, in the + hallway outside the door. + </p> + <p> + They were nearly mad, the two of them. They had dragged the body in, and + then faced each other. Ellingham was for calling the police at once and + surrendering, but she had kept him away from the telephone. She + maintained, and I think it very possible, that her whole thought was for + the children, and the effect on their after lives of such a scandal. And, + after all, nothing could help the man on the floor. + </p> + <p> + It was while they were trying to formulate some concerted plan that they + heard footsteps below, and, thinking it was Mademoiselle Gautier, she + drove Ellingham into the rear of the house, from which later he managed to + escape. But it was Clara who was coming up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “She had been our first governess for the children,” Elinor said, “and she + often came in. She had made a birthday smock for Buddy, and she had it in + her hand. She almost fainted. I couldn’t tell her about Charlie Ellingham. + I couldn’t. I told her we had been struggling, and that I was afraid I had + shot him. She is quick. She knew just what to do. We worked fast. She said + a suicide would not have fired one shot into the ceiling, and she fixed + that. It was terrible. And all the time he lay there, with his eyes half + open—” + </p> + <p> + The letters, it seems, were all over the place. Elinor thought of the + curtain, cut a receptacle for them, but she was afraid of the police. + Finally she gave them to Clara, who was to take them away and burn them. + </p> + <p> + They did everything they could think of, all the time listening for + Suzanne Gautier’s return; filled the second empty chamber of the revolver, + dragged the body out of the hall and washed the carpet, and called Doctor + Sperry, knowing that he was at Mrs. Dane’s and could not come. + </p> + <p> + Clara had only a little time, and with the letters in her handbag she + started down the stairs. There she heard some one, possibly Ellingham, on + the back stairs, and in her haste, she fell, hurting her knee, and she + must have dropped the handbag at that time. They knew now that Hawkins had + found it later on. But for a few days they didn’t know, and hence the + advertisement. + </p> + <p> + “I think we would better explain Hawkins,” Sperry said. “Hawkins was + married to Miss Clara here, some years ago, while she was with Mrs. Wells. + They had kept it a secret, and recently she has broken with him.” + </p> + <p> + “He was infatuated with another woman,” Clara said briefly. “That’s a + personal matter. It has nothing to do with this case.” + </p> + <p> + “It explains Hawkins’s letter.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t explain how that medium knew everything that happened,” Clara + put in, excitedly. “She knew it all, even the library paste! I can tell + you, Mr. Johnson, I was close to fainting a dozen times before I finally + did it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you know of our seances?” I asked Mrs. Wells. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I may as well tell you that I haven’t been in Florida. How could I? + The children are there, but I—” + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell Charlie Ellingham about them?” + </p> + <p> + “After the second one I warned him, and I think he went to the house. One + bullet was somewhere in the ceiling, or in the floor of the nursery. I + thought it ought to be found. I don’t know whether he found it or not. + I’ve been afraid to see him.” + </p> + <p> + She sat, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. She was a proud + woman, and surrender had come hard. The struggle was marked in her face. + She looked as though she had not slept for days. + </p> + <p> + “You think I am frightened,” she said slowly. “And I am, terribly + frightened. But not about discovery. That has come, and cannot be helped.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why?” + </p> + <p> + “How does this woman, this medium, know these things?” Her voice rose, + with an unexpected hysterical catch. “It is superhuman. I am almost mad.” + </p> + <p> + “We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” Sperry said soothingly. “Be + sure that it is not what you think it is, Elinor. There’s a simple + explanation, and I think I’ve got it. What about the stick that was taken + from my library?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me how you came to have it, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I took it from the lower hall the night—the night it + happened.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Charlie Ellingham’s. He had left it there. We had to have it, + doctor. Alone it might not mean much, but with the other things you knew—tell + them, Clara.” + </p> + <p> + “I stole it from your office,” Clara said, looking straight ahead. “We had + to have it. I knew at the second sitting that it was his.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you take it?” + </p> + <p> + “On Monday morning, I went for Mrs. Dane’s medicine, and you had promised + her a book. Do you remember? I told your man, and he allowed me to go up + to the library. It was there, on the table. I had expected to have to + search for it, but it was lying out. I fastened it to my belt, under my + long coat.” + </p> + <p> + “And placed it in the rack at Mrs. Dane’s?” Sperry was watching her + intently, with the same sort of grim intentness he wears when examining a + chest. + </p> + <p> + “I put it in the closet in my room. I meant to get rid of it, when I had a + little time. I don’t know how it got downstairs, but I think—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “We are house-cleaning. A housemaid was washing closets. I suppose she + found it and, thinking it was one of Mrs. Dane’s, took it downstairs. That + is, unless—” It was clear that, like Elinor, she had a supernatural + explanation in her mind. She looked gaunt and haggard. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ellingham was anxious to get it,” she finished. “He had taken Mr. + Johnson’s overcoat by mistake one night when you were both in the house, + and the notes were in it. He saw that the stick was important.” + </p> + <p> + “Clara,” Sperry asked, “did you see, the day you advertised for your bag, + another similar advertisement?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it. It frightened me.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no idea who inserted it?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see Miss Jeremy before the first sitting? Or hear of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Or between the seances?” + </p> + <p> + Elinor rose and drew her veil down. “We must go,” she said. “Surely now + you will cease these terrible investigations. I cannot stand much more. I + am going mad.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no more seances,” Sperry said gravely. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” She turned to me, I daresay because I + represented what to her was her supreme dread, the law. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” I said, “we are not going to do anything. The Neighborhood + Club has been doing a little amateur research work, which is now over. + That is all.” + </p> + <p> + Sperry took them away in his car, but he turned on the door-step, “Wait + downstairs for me,” he said, “I am coming back.” + </p> + <p> + I remained in the library until he returned, uneasily pacing the floor. + </p> + <p> + For where were we, after all? We had had the medium’s story elaborated and + confirmed, but the fact remained that, step by step, through her unknown + “control” the Neighborhood Club had followed a tragedy from its beginning, + or almost its beginning, to its end. + </p> + <p> + Was everything on which I had built my life to go? Its philosophy, its + science, even its theology, before the revelations of a young woman who + knew hardly the rudiments of the very things she was destroying? + </p> + <p> + Was death, then, not peace and an awakening to new things, but a wretched + and dissociated clutching after the old? A wrench which only loosened but + did not break our earthly ties? + </p> + <p> + It was well that Sperry came back when he did, bringing with him a breath + of fresh night air and stalwart sanity. He found me still pacing the room. + </p> + <p> + “The thing I want to know,” I said fretfully, “is where this leaves us? + Where are we? For God’s sake, where are we?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” he said, “have you anything to drink? Not for me. For + yourself. You look sick.” + </p> + <p> + “We do not keep intoxicants in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, piffle,” he said. “Where is it, Horace?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a little gin.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + I drew a chair before the book-shelves, which in our old-fashioned house + reach almost to the ceiling, and, withdrawing a volume of Josephus, I + brought down the bottle. + </p> + <p> + “Now and then, when I have had a bad day,” I explained, “I find that it + makes me sleep.” + </p> + <p> + He poured out some and I drank it, being careful to rinse the glass + afterward. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Sperry, when he had lighted a cigar. “So you want to know + where we are.” + </p> + <p> + “I would like to save something out of the wreck.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s easy. Horace, you should be a heart specialist, and I should have + taken the law. It’s as plain as the alphabet.” He took his notes of the + sittings from his pocket. “I’m going to read a few things. Keep what is + left of your mind on them. This is the first sitting. + </p> + <p> + “‘The knee hurts. It is very bad. Arnica will take the pain out.’ + </p> + <p> + “I want to go out. I want air. If I could only go to sleep and forget it. + The drawing-room furniture is scattered all over the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Now the second sitting: + </p> + <p> + “‘It is writing.’ (The stick.) ‘It is writing, but the water washed it + away. All of it, not a trace.’ ‘If only the pocketbook were not lost. + Car-tickets and letters. It will be terrible if the letters are found.’ + ‘Hawkins may have it. The curtain was much safer.’ ‘That part’s safe + enough, unless it made a hole in the floor above.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you’re going to read a lot of irrelevant material—” + </p> + <p> + “Irrelevant nothing! Wake up, Horace! But remember this. I’m not + explaining the physical phenomena. We’ll never do that. It wasn’t + extraordinary, as such things go. Our little medium in a trance condition + has read poor Clara’s mind. It’s all here, all that Clara knew and nothing + that she didn’t know. A mind-reader, friend Horace. And Heaven help me + when I marry her!” + </p> + <p> + ******** + </p> + <p> + As I have said, the Neighborhood Club ended its investigations with this + conclusion, which I believe is properly reached. It is only fair to state + that there are those among us who have accepted that theory in the Wells + case, but who have preferred to consider that behind both it and the + physical phenomena of the seances there was an intelligence which directed + both, an intelligence not of this world as we know it. Both Herbert and + Alice Robinson are now pronounced spiritualists, although Miss Jeremy, now + Mrs. Sperry, has definitely abandoned all investigative work. + </p> + <p> + Personally, I have evolved no theory. It seems beyond dispute that certain + individuals can read minds, and that these same, or other so-called + “sensitives,” are capable of liberating a form of invisible energy which, + however, they turn to no further account than the useless ringing of + bells, moving of small tables, and flinging about of divers objects. + </p> + <p> + To me, I admit, the solution of the Wells case as one of mind-reading is + more satisfactory than explanatory. For mental waves remain a mystery, + acknowledged, as is electricity, but of a nature yet unrevealed. Thoughts + are things. That is all we know. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dane, I believe, had suspected the solution from the start. + </p> + <p> + The Neighborhood Club has recently disbanded. We tried other things, but + we had been spoiled. Our Kipling winter was a failure. We read a play or + two, with Sperry’s wife reading the heroine, and the rest of us taking + other parts. She has a lovely voice, has Mrs. Sperry. But it was all stale + and unprofitable, after the Wells affair. With Herbert on a lecture tour + on spirit realism, and Mrs. Dane at a sanatorium for the winter, we have + now given it up, and my wife and I spend our Monday evenings at home. + </p> + <p> + After dinner I read, or, as lately, I have been making this record of the + Wells case from our notes. My wife is still fond of the phonograph, and + even now, as I make this last entry and complete my narrative, she is + waiting for me to change the record. I will be frank. I hate the + phonograph. I hope it will be destroyed, or stolen. I am thinking very + seriously of having it stolen. + </p> + <p> + “Horace,” says my wife, “whatever would we do without the phonograph? I + wish you would put it in the burglar-insurance policy. I am always afraid + it will be stolen.” + </p> + <p> + Even here, you see! Truly thoughts are things. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sight Unseen, by Mary Roberts Rinehart + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIGHT UNSEEN *** + +***** This file should be named 1960-h.htm or 1960-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/6/1960/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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