Sight Unseen Read online

  II

  The butler wheeled out Mrs. Dane's chair, as her companion did not dinewith her on club nights, and led us to the drawing-room doors. ThereSperry threw them, open, and we saw that the room had been completelymetamorphosed.

  Mrs. Dane's drawing-room is generally rather painful. Kindly soul thatshe is, she has considered it necessary to preserve and exhibit therethe many gifts of a long lifetime. Photographs long outgrown, onyxtables, a clutter of odd chairs and groups of discordant bric-a-bracusually make the progress of her chair through it a precarious andperilous matter. We paused in the doorway, startled.

  The room had been dismantled. It opened before us, walls andchimney-piece bare, rugs gone from the floor, even curtains taken fromthe windows. To emphasize the change, in the center stood a common pinetable, surrounded by seven plain chairs. All the lights were out saveone, a corner bracket, which was screened with a red-paper shade.

  She watched our faces with keen satisfaction. "Such a time I had doingit!" she said. "The servants, of course, think I have gone mad. Allexcept Clara. I told her. She's a sensible girl."

  Herbert chuckled.

  "Very neat," he said, "although a chair or two for the spooks would havebeen no more than hospitable. All right. Now bring on your ghosts."

  My wife, however, looked slightly displeased. "As a church-woman," shesaid, "I really feel that it is positively impious to bring back thesouls of the departed, before they are called from on High."

  "Oh, rats," Herbert broke in rudely. "They'll not come. Don't worry. Andif you hear raps, don't worry. It will probably be the medium crackingthe joint of her big toe."

  There was still a half hour until the medium's arrival. At Mrs. Dane'sdirection we employed it in searching the room. It was the ordinaryrectangular drawing-room, occupying a corner of the house. Two windowsat the end faced on the street, with a patch of railed-in lawn beneaththem. 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. Thethird side was a blank wall, beyond which lay the library. On the fourthside were the double doors into the hall.

  As, although the results we obtained were far beyond any expectations,the purely physical phenomena were relatively insignificant, it is notnecessary to go further into the detail of the room. Robinson has donethat, anyhow, for the Society of Psychical Research, a proceedingto which I was opposed, as will be understood by the close of thenarrative.

  Further to satisfy Mrs. Dane, we examined the walls and floor-boardscarefully, and Herbert, armed with a candle, went down to the cellarand investigated from below, returning to announce in a loud voice whichmade us all jump that it seemed all clear enough down there. After thatwe sat and waited, and I daresay the bareness and darkness of theroom put us into excellent receptive condition. I know that I myself,probably owing to an astigmatism, once or twice felt that I saw waveringshadows in corners, and I felt again some of the strangeness I had feltduring the day. We spoke in whispers, and Alice Robinson recited thehistory of a haunted house where she had visited in England. But Herbertwas still cynical. He said, I remember:

  "Here we are, six intelligent persons of above the average grade, and ina few minutes our hair will be rising and our pulses hammering while aChoctaw Indian control, in atrocious English, will tell us she is happyand we are happy and so everybody's happy. Hanky panky!"

  "You may be as skeptical as you please, if you will only be fair,Herbert," Mrs. Dane said.

  "And by that you mean--"

  "During the sitting keep an open mind and a closed mouth," she replied,cheerfully.

  As I said at the beginning, this is not a ghost story. Parts of it wenow understand, other parts we do not. For the physical phenomena wehave no adequate explanation. They occurred. We saw and heard them. Forthe other part of the seance we have come to a conclusion satisfactoryto ourselves, a conclusion not reached, however, until some of us hadgone through some dangerous experiences, and had been brought intocontact with things hitherto outside the orderly progression of ourlives.

  But at no time, although incredible things happened, did any one of usglimpse that strange world of the spirit that seemed so often almostwithin our range of vision.

  Miss Jeremy, the medium, was due at 8:30 and at 8:20 my wife assistedMrs. Dane into one of the straight chairs at the table, and Sperry, sentout by her, returned with a darkish bundle in his arms, and carrying alight bamboo rod.

  "Don't ask me what they are for," he said to Herbert's grin ofamusement. "Every workman has his tools."

  Herbert examined the rod, but it was what it appeared to be, and nothingelse.

  Some one had started the phonograph in the library, and it was playinggloomily, "Shall we meet beyond the river?" At Sperry's request westopped talking and composed ourselves, and Herbert, I remember, tooka tablet of some sort, to our intense annoyance, and crunched it in histeeth. Then Miss Jeremy came in.

  She was not at all what we had expected. Twenty-six, I should say, andin a black dinner dress. She seemed like a perfectly normal youngwoman, even attractive in a fragile, delicate way. Not much personality,perhaps; the very word "medium" precludes that. A "sensitive," I thinkshe called herself. We were presented to her, and but for the strippedand bare room, it might have been any evening after any dinner, withbridge waiting.

  When she shook hands with me she looked at me keenly. "What a strangeday it has been!" she said. "I have been very nervous. I only hope I cando what you want this evening."

  "I am not at all sure what we do want, Miss Jeremy," I replied.

  She smiled a quick smile that was not without humor. Somehow I had neverthought of a medium with a sense of humor. I liked her at once. Weall liked her, and Sperry, Sperry the bachelor, the iconoclast, theantifeminist, was staring at her with curiously intent eyes.

  Following her entrance Herbert had closed and bolted the drawing-roomdoors, and as an added precaution he now drew Mrs. Dane's empty wheeledchair across them.

  "Anything that comes in," he boasted, "will come through the keyhole ordown the chimney."

  And then, eying the fireplace, he deliberately took a picture from thewall and set it on the fender.

  Miss Jeremy gave the room only the most casual of glances.

  "Where shall I sit?" she asked.

  Mrs. Dane indicated her place, and she asked for a small stand to bebrought in and placed about two feet behind her chair, and two chairsto flank it, and then to take the black cloth from the table and hang itover the bamboo rod, which was laid across the backs of the chairs. Thusarranged, the curtain formed a low screen behind her, with the standbeyond it. On this stand we placed, at her order, various articles fromour pockets--I a fountain pen, Sperry a knife; and my wife contributed agold bracelet.

  We all felt, I fancy, rather absurd. Herbert's smile in the dim lightbecame a grin. "The same old thing!" he whispered to me. "Watch herclosely. They do it with a folding rod."

  We arranged between us that we were to sit one on each side of her, andSperry warned me not to let go of her hand for a moment. "They have away of switching hands," he explained in a whisper. "If she wants toscratch her nose I'll scratch it."

  We were, we discovered, not to touch the table, but to sit around it ata distance of a few inches, holding hands and thus forming the circle.And for twenty minutes we sat thus, and nothing happened. She wasfully conscious and even spoke once or twice, and at last she movedimpatiently and told us to put our hands on the table.

  I had put my opened watch on the table before me, a night watch with aluminous dial. At five minutes after nine I felt the top of the tablewaver under my fingers, a curious, fluid-like motion.

  "The table is going to move," I said.

  Herbert laughed, a dry little chuckle. "Sure it is," he said. "When weall get to acting together, it will probably do considerable moving. Ifeel what you feel. It's flowing under my fingers."

  "Blood,"
said Sperry. "You fellows feel the blood moving through theends of your fingers. That's all. Don't be impatient."

  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'sknife, was flung over the curtain and struck the wall behind Mrs. Daneviolently.

  One of the women screamed, ending in a hysterical giggle. Then we heardrhythmic beating on the top of the stand behind the medium. Startlingas it was at the beginning, increasing as it did from a slow beat toan incredibly rapid drumming, when the initial shock was over Herbertcommenced to gibe.

  "Your fountain pen, Horace," he said to me. "Making out a statement forservices rendered, by its eagerness."

  The answer to that was the pen itself, aimed at him with apparentaccuracy, and followed by an outcry from him.

  "Here, stop it!" he said. "I've got ink all over me!"

  We laughed consumedly. The sitting had taken on all the attributes ofpractical joking. The table no longer quivered under my hands.

  "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 wasdropped forward on her chest, and she suddenly sagged in her chair.Sperry broke the circle and coming to her, took her pulse. It was, hereported, very rapid.

  "You can move and talk now if you like," he said. "She's in trance, andthere will be no more physical demonstrations."

  Mrs. Dane was the first to speak. I was looking for my fountain pen, andHerbert was again examining the stand.

  "I believe it now," Mrs. Dane said. "I saw your watch go, Horace, buttomorrow I won't believe it at all."

  "How about your companion?" I asked. "Can she take shorthand? We oughtto have a record."

  "Probably not in the dark."

  "We can have some light now," Sperry said.

  There was a sort of restrained movement in the room now. Herbert turnedon a bracket light, and I moved away the roller chair.

  "Go and get Clara, Horace," Mrs. Dane said to me, "and have her bring anote-book and pencil." Nothing, I believe, happened during my absence.Miss Jeremy was sunk in her chair and breathing heavily when I came backwith Clara, and Sperry was still watching her pulse. Suddenly my wifesaid:

  "Why, look! She's wearing my bracelet!"

  This proved to be the case, and was, I regret to say, the cause ofa most unjust suspicion on my wife's part. Even today, with all theknowledge she possesses, I am certain that Mrs. Johnson believes thatsome mysterious power took my watch and dragged it off the table, andthrew the pen, but that I myself under cover of darkness placed herbracelet on Miss Jeremy's arm. I can only reiterate here what I havetold her many times, that I never touched the bracelet after it wasplaced on the stand.

  "Take down everything that happens, Clara, and all we say," Mrs. Danesaid in a low tone. "Even if it sounds like nonsense, put it down."

  It is because Clara took her orders literally that I am making thismore readable version of her script. There was a certain amount ofnon-pertinent matter which would only cloud the statement if renderedword for word, and also certain scattered, unrelated words with whichmany of the statements terminated. For instance, at the end of thesentence, "Just above the ear," came a number of rhymes to the finalword, "dear, near, fear, rear, cheer, three cheers." These I have cut,for the sake of clearness.

  For some five minutes, perhaps, Miss Jeremy breathed stertorously, andit was during that interval that we introduced Clara and took up ourpositions. Sperry sat near the medium now, having changed places withHerbert, and the rest of us were as we had been, save that we no longertouched hands. Suddenly Miss Jeremy began to breathe more quietly, andto move about in her chair. Then she sat upright.

  "Good evening, friends," she said. "I am glad to see you all again."

  I caught Herbert's eye, and he grinned.

  "Good evening, little Bright Eyes," he said. "How's everything in thehappy hunting ground tonight?"

  "Dark and cold," she said. "Dark and cold. And the knee hurts. It's verybad. If the key is on the nail--Arnica will take the pain out."

  She lapsed into silence. In transcribing Clara's record I shall make noreference to these pauses, which were frequent, and occasionally filledin with extraneous matter. For instance, once there was what amountedto five minutes of Mother Goose jingles. Our method was simply oneof question, by one of ourselves, and of answer by Miss Jeremy. Thesereplies were usually in a querulous tone, and were often apparentlyunwilling. Also occasionally there was a bit of vernacular, as in thenext reply. Herbert, who was still flippantly amused, said:

  "Don't bother about your knee. Give us some local stuff. Gossip. If youcan."

  "Sure I can, and it will make your hair curl." Then suddenly there was asort of dramatic pause and then an outburst.

  "He's dead."

  "Who is dead?" Sperry asked, with his voice drawn a trifle thin.

  "A bullet just above the ear. That's a bad place. Thank goodness there'snot much blood. Cold water will take it out of the carpet. Not hot. Nothot. Do you want to set the stain?"

  "Look here," Sperry said, looking around the table. "I don't like this.It's darned grisly."

  "Oh, fudge!" Herbert put in irreverently. "Let her rave, or it, orwhatever it is. Do you mean that a man is dead?"--to the medium.

  "Yes. She has the revolver. She needn't cry so. He was cruel to her. Hewas a beast. Sullen."

  "Can you see the woman?" I asked.

  "If it's sent out to be cleaned it will cause trouble. Hang it in thecloset."

  Herbert muttered something about the movies having nothing on us, andwas angrily hushed. There was something quite outside of Miss Jeremy'swords that had impressed itself on all of us with a sense of unexpectedbut very real tragedy. As I look back I believe it was a sort ofdesperation in her voice. But then came one of those interruptions whichwere to annoy us considerably during the series of sittings; she beganto recite Childe Harold.

  When that was over,

  "Now then," Sperry said in a businesslike voice, "you see a dead man,and a young woman with him. Can you describe the room?"

  "A small room, his dressing-room. He was shaving. There is still latheron his face."

  "And the woman killed him?"

  "I don't know. Oh, I don't know. No, she didn't. He did it!"

  "He did it himself?"

  There was no answer to that, but a sort of sulky silence.

  "Are you getting this, Clara?" Mrs. Dane asked sharply. "Don't miss aword. Who knows what this may develop into?"

  I looked at the secretary, and it was clear that she was terrified. Igot up and took my chair to her. Coming back, I picked up my forgottenwatch from the floor. It was still going, and the hands markednine-thirty.

  "Now," Sperry said in a soothing tone, "you said there was a shot firedand a man was killed. Where was this? What house?"

  "Two shots. One is in the ceiling of the dressing-room."

  "And the other killed him?"

  But here, instead of a reply we got the words, "library paste."

  Quite without warning the medium groaned, and Sperry believed the trancewas over.

  "She's coming out," he said. "A glass of wine, somebody." But she didnot come out. Instead, she twisted in the chair.

  "He's so heavy to lift," she muttered. Then: "Get the lather off hisface. The lather. The lather."

  She subsided into the chair and began to breathe with difficulty. "Iwant 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."

  This last sentence she repeated over and over. It got on our nerves,ragged already.

  "Can you tell us about the house?"

  There was a distinct pause. Then: "Certainly. A brick house. Theservants' entrance is locked, but the key is on a nail, among the vines.All the furniture is scattered through the house."

  "She must mean the furniture o
f this room," Mrs. Dane whispered.

  The remainder of the sitting was chaotic. The secretary's notes consistof unrelated words and often childish verses. On going over thenotes the next day, when the stenographic record had been copied on atypewriter, Sperry and I found that one word recurred frequently.The word was "curtain." Of the extraordinary event that followed thebreaking up of the seance, I have the keenest recollection. Miss Jeremycame out of her trance weak and looking extremely ill, and Sperry'smotor took her home. She knew nothing of what had happened, and hopedwe had been satisfied. By agreement, we did not tell her what hadtranspired, and she was not curious.

  Herbert saw her to the car, and came back, looking grave. We werestanding together in the center of the dismantled room, with the lightsgoing full now.

  "Well," he said, "it is one of two things. Either we've been gloriouslyfaked, or we've been let in on a very tidy little crime."

  It was Mrs. Dane's custom to serve a Southern eggnog as a sort ofstir-up-cup--nightcap, she calls it--on her evenings, and we found itwaiting for us in the library. In the warmth of its open fire, and thecheer of its lamps, even in the dignity and impassiveness of the butler,there was something sane and wholesome. The women of the party reactedquickly, but I looked over to see Sperry at a corner desk, intentlyworking over a small object in the palm of his hand.

  He started when he heard me, then laughed and held out his hand.

  "Library paste!" he said. "It rolls into a soft, malleable ball. Itcould quite easily be used to fill a small hole in plaster. The paperwould paste down over it, too."

  "Then you think?"

  "I'm not thinking at all. The thing she described may have taken placein Timbuctoo. May have happened ten years ago. May be the plot of somebook she has read."

  "On the other hand," I replied, "it is just possible that it was here,in this neighborhood, while we were sitting in that room."

  "Have you any idea of the time?"

  "I know exactly. It was half-past nine."