Love and Mr. Lewisham Read online

  CHAPTER XI.

  MANIFESTATIONS.

  Miss Heydinger declined to disbelieve in the spirits of the dead, andthis led to controversy in the laboratory over Tea. For the girlstudents, being in a majority that year, had organised Tea betweenfour o'clock and the advent of the extinguishing policeman atfive. And the men students were occasionally invited to Tea. But notmore than two of them at a time really participated, because therewere only two spare cups after that confounded Simmons broke thethird.

  Smithers, the square-headed student with the hard grey eyes, arguedagainst the spirits of the dead with positive animosity, whileBletherley, who displayed an orange tie and lank hair in unshornabundance, was vaguely open-minded, "What is love?" asked Bletherley,"surely that at any rate is immortal!" His remark was consideredirrelevant and ignored.

  Lewisham, as became the most promising student of the year, weighedthe evidence--comprehensively under headings. He dismissed themediumistic _seances_ as trickery.

  "Rot and imposture," said Smithers loudly, and with an oblique glanceto see if his challenge reached its mark. Its mark was a grizzledlittle old man with a very small face and very big grey eyes, who hadbeen standing listlessly at one of the laboratory windows until thediscussion caught him. He wore a brown velvet jacket and was reputedto be enormously rich. His name was Lagune. He was not a regularattendant, but one of those casual outsiders who are admitted tolaboratories that are not completely full. He was known to be anardent spiritualist--it was even said that he had challenged Huxley toa public discussion on materialism, and he came to the biologicallectures and worked intermittently, in order, he explained, to fightdisbelief with its own weapons. He rose greedily to Smithers'controversial bait.

  "I say _no_!" he said, calling down the narrow laboratory andfollowing his voice. He spoke with the ghost of a lisp. "Pardon myinterrupting, sir. The question interests me profoundly. I hope Idon't intrude. Excuse me, sir. Make it personal. Am I a--fool, or animpostor?"

  "Well," parried Smithers, with all a South Kensington student's wantof polish, "that's a bit personal."

  "Assume, sir, that I am an honest observer."

  "Well?"

  "I have _seen_ spirits, _heard_ spirits, _felt_ the touch of spirits,"He opened his pale eyes very widely.

  "Fool, then," said Smithers in an undertone which did not reach theears of the spiritualist.

  "You may have been deceived," paraphrased Lewisham.

  "I can assure you ... others can see, hear, feel. I have tested,sir. Tested! I have some scientific training and I have employedtests. Scientific and exhaustive tests! Every possible way. I ask you,sir--have you given the spirits a chance?"

  "It is only paying guineas to humbugs," said Smithers.

  "There you are! Prejudice! Here is a man denies the facts andconsequently _won't_ see them, won't go near them."

  "But you wouldn't have every man in the three kingdoms, whodisbelieved in spirits, attend _seances_ before he should be allowedto deny?"

  "Most assuredly yes. Most assuredly yes! He knows nothing about ittill then."

  The argument became heated. The little old gentleman was soon underway. He knew a person of the most extraordinary gifts, a medium ...

  "Paid?" asked Smithers.

  "Would you muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn?" said Lagunepromptly.

  Smithers' derision was manifest.

  "Would you distrust a balance because you bought it? Come and see."Lagune was now very excited and inclined to gesticulate and raise hisvoice. He invited the whole class incontinently to a series of special_seances_. "Not all at once--the spirits--new influences." But insections. "I warn you we may get nothing. But the chances are ... Iwould rejoice infinitely ..."

  So it came about that Lewisham consented to witness aspirit-raising. Miss Heydinger it was arranged should be there, andthe sceptic Smithers, Lagune, his typewriter and the medium wouldcomplete the party. Afterwards there was to be another party for theothers. Lewisham was glad he had the moral support of Smithers."It's an evening wasted," said Smithers, who had gallantly resolved tomake the running for Lewisham in the contest for the Forbesmedal. "But I'll prove my case. You see if I don't." They were givenan address in Chelsea.

  The house, when Lewisham found it at last, proved a large one, withsuch an air of mellowed dignity that he was abashed. He hung his hatup for himself beside a green-trimmed hat of straw in the wide,rich-toned hall. Through an open door he had a glimpse of a palatialstudy, book shelves bearing white busts, a huge writing-table lit by agreen-shaded electric lamp and covered thickly with papers. Thehousemaid looked, he thought, with infinite disdain at the rustymourning and flamboyant tie, and flounced about and led him upstairs.

  She rapped, and there was a discussion within. "They're at it already,I believe," she said to Lewisham confidentially. "Mr. Lagune's alwaysat it."

  There were sounds of chairs being moved, Smithers' extensive voicemaking a suggestion and laughing nervously. Lagune appeared openingthe door. His grizzled face seemed smaller and his big grey eyeslarger than usual.

  "We were just going to begin without you," he whispered. "Comealong."

  The room was furnished even more finely than the drawing-room of theWhortley Grammar School, hitherto the finest room (except certain ofthe State Apartments at Windsor) known to Lewisham. The furniturestruck him in a general way as akin to that in the South KensingtonMuseum. His first impression was an appreciation of the vast socialsuperiority of the chairs; it seemed impertinent to think of sittingon anything quite so quietly stately. He perceived Smithers standingwith an air of bashful hostility against a bookcase. Then he was awarethat Lagune was asking them all to sit down. Already seated at thetable was the Medium, Chaffery, a benevolent-looking, faintly shabbygentleman with bushy iron-grey side-whiskers, a wide, thin-lippedmouth tucked in at the corners, and a chin like the toe of a boot. Heregarded Lewisham critically and disconcertingly over giltglasses. Miss Heydinger was quite at her ease and began talking atonce. Lewisham's replies were less confident than they had been in theGallery of Old Iron; indeed there was almost a reversal of theirpositions. She led and he was abashed. He felt obscurely that she hadtaken an advantage of him. He became aware of another girlish figurein a dark dress on his right.

  Everyone moved towards the round table in the centre of the room, onwhich lay a tambourine and a little green box. Lagune developedunsuspected lengths of knobby wrist and finger directing his guests totheir seats. Lewisham was to sit next to him, between him and theMedium; beyond the Medium sat Smithers with Miss Heydinger on theother side of him, linked to Lagune by the typewriter. So scepticscompassed the Medium about. The company was already seated beforeLewisham looked across Lagune and met the eyes of the girl next thatgentleman. It was Ethel! The close green dress, the absence of a hat,and a certain loss of colour made her seem less familiar, but did notprevent the instant recognition. And there was recognition in hereyes.

  Immediately she looked away. At first his only emotion wassurprise. He would have spoken, but a little thing robbed him ofspeech. For a moment he was unable to remember her surname. Moreover,the strangeness of his surroundings made him undecided. He did notknow what was the proper way to address her--and he still kept to thesuperstition of etiquette. Besides--to speak to her would involve ageneral explanation to all these people ...

  "Just leave a pin-point of gas, Mr. Smithers, please," said Lagune,and suddenly the one surviving jet of the gas chandelier was turneddown and they were in darkness. The moment for recognition hadpassed.

  The joining of hands was punctiliously verified, the circle was linkedlittle finger to little finger. Lewisham's abstraction received arebuke from Smithers. The Medium, speaking in an affable voice,premised that he could promise nothing, he had no "_directing_" powerover manifestations. Thereafter ensued a silence....

  For a space Lewisham was inattentive to all that happened.

  He sat in the breathing darkness, staring at the dim elusive shapethat had pres
ented that remembered face. His mind was astonishmentmingled with annoyance. He had settled that this girl was lost to himfor ever. The spell of the old days of longing, of the afternoonsthat he had spent after his arrival in London, wandering throughClapham with a fading hope of meeting her, had not returned tohim. But he was ashamed of his stupid silence, and irritated by theawkwardness of the situation. At one moment he was on the very vergeof breaking the compact and saying "Miss Henderson" across thetable....

  How was it he had forgotten that "Henderson"? He was still youngenough to be surprised at forgetfulness.

  Smithers coughed, one might imagine with a warning intention.

  Lewisham, recalling his detective responsibility with an effort,peered about him, but the room was very dark. The silence was brokenever and again by deep sighs and a restless stirring from theMedium. Out of this mental confusion Lewisham's personal vanity wasfirst to emerge. What did she think of him? Was she peering at himthrough the darkness even as he peered at her? Should he pretend tosee her for the first time when the lights were restored? As theminutes lengthened it seemed as though the silence grew deeper anddeeper. There was no fire in the room, and it looked, for lack of thatglow, chilly. A curious scepticism arose in his mind as to whether hehad actually seen Ethel or only mistaken someone else for her. Hewanted the _seance_ over in order that he might look at her again.The old days at Whortley came out of his memory with astonishingdetail and yet astonishingly free from emotion....

  He became aware of a peculiar sensation down his back, that he triedto account for as a draught....

  Suddenly a beam of cold air came like a touch against his face, andmade him shudder convulsively. Then he hoped that she had not markedhis shudder. He thought of laughing a low laugh to show he was notafraid. Someone else shuddered too, and he perceived anextraordinarily vivid odour of violets. Lagune's finger communicated anervous quivering.

  What was happening?

  The musical box somewhere on the table began playing a rather trivial,rather plaintive air that was strange to him. It seemed to deepen thesilence about him, an accent on the expectant stillness, a thread oftinkling melody spanning an abyss.

  Lewisham took himself in hand at this stage. What _was_ happening? Hemust attend. Was he really watching as he should do? He had beenwool-gathering. There were no such things as spirits, mediums werehumbugs, and he was here to prove that sole remaining Gospel. But hemust keep up with things--he was missing points. What was that scentof violets? And who had set the musical box going? The Medium, ofcourse; but how? He tried to recall whether he had heard a rustling ordetected any movement before the music began. He could notrecollect. Come! he must be more on the alert than this!

  He became acutely desirous of a successful exposure. He figured thedramatic moment he had prepared with Smithers--Ethel a spectator. Hepeered suspiciously into the darkness.

  Somebody shuddered again, someone opposite him this time. He feltLagune's finger quiver still more palpably, and then suddenly the rapsbegan, abruptly, all about him. _Rap_!--making him start violently. Aswift percussive sound, tap, rap, dap, under the table, under thechair, in the air, round the cornices. The Medium groaned again andshuddered, and his nervous agitation passed sympathetically round thecircle. The music seemed to fade to the vanishing point and grewlouder again.

  How was it done?

  He heard Lagune's voice next him speaking with a peculiar quality ofbreathless reverence, "The alphabet?" he asked, "shall we--shall weuse the alphabet?"

  A forcible rap under the table.

  "No!" interpreted the voice of the Medium.

  The raps were continued everywhere.

  Of course it was trickery, Lewisham endeavoured to think what themechanism was. He tried to determine whether he really had theMedium's little finger touching his. He peered at the dark shape nexthim. There was a violent rapping far away behind them with an almostmetallic resonance. Then the raps ceased, and over the healing silencethe little jet of melody from the musical box played alone. And aftera moment that ceased also....

  The stillness was profound, Mr. Lewisham was now highly strung. Doubtsassailed him suddenly, and an overwhelming apprehension, a sense ofvast occurrences gathering above him. The darkness was a physicaloppression....

  He started. Something had stirred on the table. There was the sharpping of metal being struck. A number of little crepitating sounds likepaper being smoothed. The sound of wind without the movement of air. Asense of a presence hovering over the table.

  The excitement of Lagune communicated itself in convulsive tremblings;the Medium's hand quivered. In the darkness on the table somethingfaintly luminous, a greenish-white patch, stirred and hopped slowlyamong the dim shapes.

  The object, whatever it was, hopped higher, rose slowly in the air,expanded. Lewisham's attention followed this slavishly. It wasghostly--unaccountable--marvellous. For the moment he forgot evenEthel. Higher and higher this pallid luminosity rose overhead, andthen he saw that it was a ghostly hand and arm, rising,rising. Slowly, deliberately it crossed the table, seemed to touchLagune, who shivered. It moved slowly round and touched Lewisham. Hegritted his teeth.

  There was no mistaking the touch, firm and yet soft, offinger-tips. Almost simultaneously, Miss Heydinger cried out thatsomething was smoothing her hair, and suddenly the musical box set offagain with a reel. The faint oval of the tambourine rose, jangled, andLewisham heard it pat Smithers in the face. It seemed to passoverhead. Immediately a table somewhere beyond the Medium began movingaudibly on its castors.

  It seemed impossible that the Medium, sitting so still beside him,could be doing all these things--grotesquely unmeaning though theymight be. After all....

  The ghostly hand was hovering almost directly in front ofMr. Lewisham's eyes. It hung with a slight quivering. Ever and againits fingers flapped down and rose stiffly again.

  Noise! A loud noise it seemed. Something moving? What was it he hadto do?

  Lewisham suddenly missed the Medium's little finger. He tried torecover it. He could not find it. He caught, held and lost anarm. There was an exclamation. A faint report. A curse close to himbitten in half by the quick effort to suppress it. Tzit! The littlepinpoint of light flew up with a hiss.

  Lewisham, standing, saw a circle of blinking faces turned to the groupof two this sizzling light revealed. Smithers was the chief figure ofthe group; he stood triumphant, one hand on the gas tap, the othergripping the Medium's wrist, and in the Medium's hand--theincriminatory tambourine.

  "How's this, Lewisham?" cried Smithers, with the shadows on his facejumping as the gas flared.

  "_Caught_!" said Lewisham loudly, rising in his place and avoidingEthel's eyes.

  "What's this?" cried the Medium.

  "Cheating," panted Smithers.

  "Not so," cried the Medium. "When you turned up the light ... put myhand up ... caught tambourine ... to save head."

  "Mr. Smithers," cried Lagune. "Mr. Smithers, this is verywrong. This--shock--"

  The tambourine fell noisily to the floor. The Medium's face changed,he groaned strangely and staggered back. Lagune cried out for a glassof water. Everyone looked at the man, expecting him to fall, saveLewisham. The thought of Ethel had flashed back into his mind. Heturned to see how she took this exposure in which he was such aprominent actor. He saw her leaning over the table as if to pick upsomething that lay across it. She was not looking at him, she waslooking at the Medium. Her face was set and white. Then, as if shefelt his glance, her eyes met his.

  She started back, stood erect, facing him with a strange hardness inher eyes.

  In the moment Lewisham did not grasp the situation. He wanted to showthat he was acting upon equal terms with Smithers in the exposure. Forthe moment her action simply directed his attention to the objecttowards which she had been leaning, a thing of shrivelled membrane, apneumatic glove, lying on the table. This was evidently part of themediumistic apparatus. He pounced and seized it.

  "Look!" he said, holding i
t towards Smithers. "Here is more! What isthis?"

  He perceived that the girl started. He saw Chaffery, the Medium, lookinstantly over Smithers' shoulders, saw his swift glance of reproachat the girl. Abruptly the situation appeared to Lewisham; he perceivedher complicity. And he stood, still in the attitude of triumph, withthe evidence against her in his hand! But his triumph had vanished.

  "Ah!" cried Smithers, leaning across the table to secure it. "_Good_old Lewisham!... Now we _have_ it. This is better than thetambourine."

  His eyes shone with triumph. "Do you see, Mr. Lagune?" saidSmithers. "The Medium held this in his teeth and blew it out. There'sno denying this. This wasn't falling on your head, Mr. Medium, wasit? _This_--this was the luminous hand!"