The needle was steady at a reading of 205. For the purpose of the experiment the electric light had been disconnected, and the final preparations had taken place by candlelight. Probert had gone to some trouble to ensure that a good contact was made with the medium’s hands, by wrapping small squares of lint soaked in a saline solution round the handles of the chair. Other members of the party had been invited to sit in the chair and test the sensation of the electrical current. Miss Crush pronounced it ‘agreeably stimulating, like the tingle of champagne’; Strathmore found it ‘unobjectionable’; and Captain Nye said he could not feel anything at all. Before Brand took his place in the chair he agreed to be searched to make certain he had nothing concealed that might be used to fake a materialisation. At length everyone retired to the main part of the room, the curtain was drawn and the candles extinguished.
Five minutes passed without anything but a series of small snorts and sighs from Nye to register his impatience with the whole business.
‘Perhaps it would help if we all linked hands again,’ suggested Miss Crush. ‘Speaking personally, I find that it brings my thoughts more into harmony with other members of the circle.’
‘We’ve been into that already, madam,’ said Strathmore, before Nye had a chance to explode. ‘The medium says it isn’t necessary. Besides, Jowett and I have got to be over here with the galvanometer. Ah, there’s a movement!’
‘A drop to 196,’ said Jowett.
‘And that is at 10.20 p.m.,’ said Strathmore, writing it down.
‘He must have altered his position slightly,’ explained Probert. ‘The instrument is sensitive to the smallest fluctuations in the strength of the contact.’
‘I expect he has gone more deeply into trance,’ said Miss Crush.
The flickering illumination provided by the fire might have eased Captain Nye’s doubts about the propriety of the proceedings, but it put the sitters’ nerves to the test more rigorously, if anything, than pitch darkness. Their own shadows leapt about the shelves and walls of the library. Because the effect was unpredictable it was impossible to ignore. The sudden movement caught in the corner of one’s eye was almost certainly a shadow on the curtain-almost, but how could anyone be sure?
‘Here’s a change. 188,’ reported Jowett.
‘At 10.25 p.m.,’ said Strathmore.
A log shifted in the grate. There was a sharp indrawing of breath from somebody.
‘Compose yourselves,’ cautioned Probert. ‘If we all remain in control there is nothing to fear.’
Miss Crush at once raised her right hand with forefinger erect as if she was about to admonish her host. Instead she held it poised in front of her, her several rings glinting fiercely. After several seconds she announced, ‘I divine a presence. It is the same sensation as before, a chilling of the atmosphere. Oh yes, I am sure of it. There is a visitor in the room with us now.’
Strathmore accepted this information with scientific detachment. ‘A drop in temperature, you say? We should have taken thermometer readings, Probert. It would have provided more evidence for my report. Next time-’
‘Please do not be alarmed, anyone, but I am quite sure that a hand is stroking my hair,’ said Alice Probert suddenly. ‘It is quite all right, William. It means no harm. If everyone will only keep calm. . It wants to come among us.’
‘The galvanometer is steady at 188,’ said Jowett in a low voice. Someone had to remind the ladies to keep the observations on a scientific level. Heavens, if he was to be deprived by tonight’s doings of the chance of promotion to chief-inspector, it warranted something more sensational than a draught through Alice Probert’s hair!
As if in response to his thought, there was an astonishing development from behind the curtain, the sound of something, some being walking across the carpet.
The needle of the galvanometer had not moved from 188.
‘God save us all!’ cried Miss Crush.
From behind the curtain a voice shouted, ‘What’s the bloody game?’
‘It must be a spirit,’ Miss Crush declared in a stage whisper. ‘That is not the way Mr Brand speaks.’
Certainly the outburst had lacked the painstaking articulation of Brand’s utterances earlier in the evening.
The footsteps recrossed the study, moving more quickly.
The galvanometer had risen to 196.
‘Should someone look behind the curtain?’ asked Alice.
‘It’s a bloody liberty!’ said the voice.
‘I think we would be justified in doing so,’ said Dr Probert. ‘Strathmore, you are nearest. Would you be so kind?’
The representative from the Life After Death Society advanced gingerly to the curtain and pulled it far enough aside to look through. ‘Is everything quite in order, Mr Brand?’
‘No it ain’t,’ said the medium, and the voice was now recognisable as his. ‘Fetch Dr Probert in ’ere quick.’
Probert was on his feet in a moment and bustled past Strathmore into the study. His haste was unfortunate. ‘Damn! I’ve kicked over the blasted bowl of salt solution. Light a candle, someone, for God’s sake, and bring it in here.’
Strathmore located a candle on the mantelpiece, lighted it from the fire and took it to Probert. Peter Brand was seated gripping the chair-handles as they had left him, except that his appearance bore signs of his recent state of trance, his hair dishevelled from contact with the chair-back, jacket collar turned up and trousers, with handkerchief half hanging from them, creased concertina-fashion where he had slipped down in the chair.
There was no other person in the study with him.
‘What are you tryin’ to do to me, for Christ’s sake?’ he demanded of Probert, all affectation sunk without trace.
‘You told me this was science. A bleedin’ experiment. I come in good faith and what ’appens? Someone comes creepin’ in ’ere spyin’ on me just as I’m goin’ into trance-the one bloody thing you know I can’t abide. Could’ve finished me, with my groggy ’eart, it could. It’s a fine bleedin’ state of affairs when an honest medium can’t trust ’is sitters to stay behind a curtain for ten minutes!’
‘Mind your language, Brand. Ladies present,’ Nye reminded him.
‘William, I’d be uncommonly obliged if you would take a candle down to the cellar and switch off the electricity,’ said Probert, with the authentic voice of authority.
Nye practically saluted before departing on his mission.
‘Mr Brand, we all remained behind the curtain, I assure you,’ said Alice. ‘Nobody left the room.’
‘Look, I don’t imagine these things,’ said Brand.
‘My dear, nobody would suggest that you do,’ said Miss Crush. ‘We all heard the footsteps. You were not alone in here-there is no doubt of that. But does it not occur to you that your intruder might not have been one of us?’
‘Servants, d’you mean?’
‘All out. Won’t be back before eleven,’ said Probert. ‘And if you’re thinking that it might have been my wife, I’d advise you to forget it. She’s so damned superstitious that she won’t put her head round the door of her room until you’re out of the house.’
‘So it must have been a spirit visitor,’ deduced Miss Crush.
‘It’s never ’appened like that before,’ said Brand, sceptically. ‘The footsteps was behind me as I sat in the chair.
Someone come in through the door and ’alf crossed the room, I swear it. Then ’e must’ve gone out again.’
Miss Crush appealed to Brand with open hands. ‘Don’t you understand? You have just given us a classic account of a haunting. It was a phantom that we all heard.’
Brand looked slightly mollified. ‘You really think so?’
‘No other explanation,’ confirmed Probert.
‘Well, in that case, seein’ as you can’t all be deceiving me,’ said Brand, his speech rapidly re-acquiring its veneer of sophistication, ‘I’ll be content to draw a veil over the whole episode.’