Reading kicked his legs from under him and sent him sprawling. Then he stepped back and covered both men.
Radin quickly abandoned a move toward a pocket of his flying suit. Perez’s weapon had been sent flying. Reading recovered it and forced the Soviet agent to disarm the pilot. He pocketed both weapons and kept the conspirators covered with his own. They scowled sullenly but said nothing.
“Radin, your motor has a self-starter. Get back to the controls. Perez, enjoy the remainder of the flight to Germany in the seat beside your companion. I will ride in the cabin behind you.
“In return for your freedom when you reach Germany you will now give into my care the dispatch case in the wing compartment to your right. You will say nothing about our little forced landing.”
At the American Embassy in Berlin the contents of Perez’s dispatch case were examined and their essentials cabled by code to Washington. The plans involving the Panama Canal remained in Reading’s keeping until he delivered those interesting documents in Washington.
Later, the Secretary of State informed the press that “recent reports to the effect that an agreement had been reached on the basis of which the United States of America would extend diplomatic recognition to the government of Soviet Russia have been premature and unwarranted.”
Levitation
by W. C. Davis
All the members turned everything possible into cash for that glorious night when the ghostly mint should run to capacity.
Among the guests one night at a spiritualistic circle conducted by Hiram Cameron, in his “Old Curiosity Shop,” East Main Street, Stockton, California, was a barber named La Mont. He, with a score or more of others, had paid into Cameron’s exchequer the sum of twenty-five cents, the regular admission charge.
During the evening, the while Hiram squeezed such simple melodies as “Swaunee River” and “Annie Laurie” out of a wheezy accordion, “spirit” hands caressed the fevered and trembling brows of the guests, tamborines flew out of a cabinet, guitars and banjos were plunked and strummed, harmonicas droned, bells rang and an assorted array of small articles were heard to fall with dull or clanging thuds about the darkened room.
Spirit messages were received by the shivering believers from the dear departed. Through a trumpet, in hoarse whispers or sepulchral voices, Annie heard from George, Uncle Horace told nephew Harry that all was well with him in the land of the shades, et cetera, ad libitum.
For the better part of an hour Hiram entertained his guests with manifestations most amazing, and it was voted altogether a very successful séance.
After it was over Hiram invited all hands to inspect his spiritualistic studio for trap doors, sliding panels or other evidence of studied deceit.
Nothing was uncovered to fix the stigma of chicanery upon the operations of the wily Hiram.
“I don’t claim it’s spirits,” drawled Cameron, “but if it’s trickery, you’ve got to admit it’s pretty clever.”
Even the skeptics admitted that, though their better judgment cried out in protest. Hiram was not in the least perturbed when one man openly charged that he was a rank faker.
“I may be,” answered Hiram, his equanimity unruffled, “but nobody has caught me at it.”
And nobody ever did. His method was simplicity itself. No trapdoors or panels were disclosed, because there were none. He simply surrounded himself by confederates, and upon each side of any one who wasn’t known to be “right,” was one of them holding him so he couldn’t make a move toward exposing Cameron.
Professing to be skeptics, the confederates circulated among the crowd before the séance, and thus knew in advance of any attempts at showing up Hiram. All were effectually nipped in the bud.
And these confederates, covered by Cameron’s accordion music, “pulled” the manifestations. Cameron’s whole scheme was as air-tight as it was simple, and he continued his stances until he grew tired of dividing the swag. Not until then did the truth come out.
So much for Hiram.
La Mont, who conducted a barber shop on the Stockton water front, was not at all convinced that Hiram’s “manifestations” were produced by the aid of those who had joined the silent majority.
“Cameron is clever, and he is getting a lot of the sucker money,” was La Mont’s way of sizing up the situation. He determined that he would get some of it himself, concluding also that his operations would be far and above any piker considerations.
After attending a few more of Cameron’s séances he gave it out that he was somewhat of a spiritualist himself, and invited some of Cameron’s regular attendants to try a whirl with the shades at his home.
La Mont hinted that he would show them some phenomena calculated to make Hiram’s efforts seem as simple as falling off the well known log, as soon as he got into his stride.
La Mont charged no admission fee during the period in which he was building up his victims for the final pluck. He led them along by slow degrees, by means of “rappings,” spirit hands and the common tricks resorted to by most of the spiritualistic fakers.
He took occasion to explain, however, that he could promise nothing really startling until he got his circle in full confidence with his “guide,” he being but the humble human instrument of those who had gone before.
“What I’m working toward,” La Mont confided to his small but very select circle, “is reproduction by those in the spirit world, of objects laid upon the table by those in the circle. It is for that reason that I am proceeding slowly and cautiously, under orders of my guide, who informs me that very soon he will give you some very startling manifestations of his power, if you will have patience.”
After a few weeks he announced one evening that his guide had promised him that if some one would place a coin upon the table he would make a gallant effort to duplicate it.
The lights were doused, and presently there came the sound of some one dropping a coin upon the table top. La Mont asked that all join him in singing “In the Sweet Bye and Bye.” The melody welled from a dozen throats. One verse and the chorus. Then La Mont turned on the lights.
In the center of the table reposed two cartwheel dollars.
“Who put the original dollar there?” asked La Mont.
One of the guests indicated that he had made the contribution.
“Well, my guide has reproduced it for you,” said the barber, solemnly, as he pushed the money toward him.
Amazement showed in every face. Here was concrete evidence of spirit power. There is nothing quite so convincing as the reproduction of money. Nobody thought to compare the dates on the coins, which may or may not have been the same. A dollar is a dollar, and what are a few years between friends and believers.
Then somebody timidly suggested that maybe the esteemed guide might do business on a five-dollar basis. La Mont professed to believe that this would be somewhat of a strain on the guide, but he would see what could be done. Again the lights went out, and “Rock of Ages” reverberated through the room, a trifle out of key, but still distinguishable, after the fiver had been heard to tinkle on the mahogany.
Lights! There they were — two five spots! And the original donor took down his one hundred per cent profit.
La Mont had “put the wolf” in them in most abiding fashion. But he had to demur at forthwith attempts to wheedle a tenner out of his obliging guide. Possibly things hadn’t gone so well at the barber shop that week.