Merlini stepped forward and put his hand on the oddly shaped chair in which Rappourt had been sitting when I had first come into the room. He pulled it back from the table into the light. “Your idea, Colonel?” he asked.
I noticed now that the metal bands that had fitted over Rappourt’s wrists and upper arms were ratcheted like handcuffs so that they could be drawn tight, holding the arms securely against the chair. There were similar bands at ankle position on the front two legs of the chair.
Colonel Watrous nodded. “Yes. I had the chair constructed according to my own design. The control exercised over the medium in nine out of ten séances is far too lax. The sitters on either side usually place their feet on the medium’s feet and their hands, above the table, touch hers. All of which means less than nothing. A stiffly reinforced shoe and elastic laces will allow the foot to be removed from the shoe, and one of the medium’s hands can, in the dark, touch the hands of the sitters on either side, thus doing double duty. But you know that. This chair is the end result of my endeavors to secure complete bodily control over the medium.”
“Combination locks on these arm bands, I see,” Merlini said. “Change the combination frequently?”
“Yes. After each séance. And I would defy Houdini to escape from them without bringing down the house. When the locks are in position an electrical contact is made that must be maintained. Any tampering, even opening the locks in the normal manner with the proper combination, sets off a loud alarm. The bell and all electrical connections are completely inaccessible, sealed within the seat of the chair so that no short circuiting or manipulation is possible. In addition, on some occasions, we covered Rappourt and the chair complete with a large gauze cloth that was tacked all around to the floor.”
“And you got physical manifestations just the same?”
“Yes. Some of the best she has ever produced.”
“But tonight you weren’t here to let her out of the chair?”
“I gave Brooke tonight’s combination.”
“I see. What was tonight’s séance all about? Something extra special, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. But I don’t know what. She was quite mysterious about it. Hinted that it would be unusual, but she didn’t tell me, at least, any more than that.”
Sigrid said suddenly, “I think Lamb knows.”
And Lamb, something at last having penetrated his rhinoceros hide, jerked his head around toward her. “Why?”
“Because you were standing with her and Linda when I came down the stairs. I heard Rappourt say something to the two of you that I don’t understand. It sounded like coded cable, and I’m sure it referred to the séance. She said, ‘Home will come, tonight.’ What did she mean?”
The effect on Merlini was astonishing. He stared as if she had been the mother of quintuplets, and didn’t turn to look at Lamb until that gentleman had nearly finished.
“I don’t know,” Lamb said. “She was referring to the stance, all right, but she was talking to Linda, not me. Linda knew what she meant — but I don’t.”
I saw Watrous open his mouth to speak and promptly shut it when Merlini scowled at him.
Merlini asked, “Well, what did happen at the séance?”
“Nothing,” Arnold replied, “Harte broke it up too soon. Unless—” He turned with a quick movement and looked across at the mantel above the fireplace. Then he went over and took down an object that rested there, on end, leaning against the wall. It was a cretonne sewing bag about 15 inches square, its neck tied securely with a drawstring knotted many times. The knots were covered with red sealing wax.
“There’s a slate in here,” Arnold said. “We all signed our names along the frame, and I cleaned it and placed it in the bag. We tied and sealed the knots, and Rappourt was never within ten feet of it. She was busy going into her trance. The mantel as you can see is clear across the room from her chair. And there are always messages—”
He started to open it, but Merlini stopped him. “Wait.” He took the bag from Arnold. “These knots are tied and sealed exactly as before?”
Lamb, Sigrid, and Brooke crowded around to look. They all nodded affirmatively.
Sigrid said, “They haven’t been touched. I put the wax on and it’s exactly as it was.
Merlini turned the bag over in his hands. “Whose bag?”
“Mine,” Sigrid said. “At first Rappourt merely had the slate put up on the mantel. One night she noticed my bag and suggested we put it in that. There’s nothing wrong with it — there can’t be.”
“No,” Merlini said. “It’s perfectly good. No trap doors.”
He took out a penknife and cut the drawstring in such a way that the knots and wax remained intact. He put his hand in and drew out a common 8-by-10 school slate. I saw the penciled signatures around the frame.
On the slate’s surface were five words scrawled in a large spidery hand with slate penciclass="underline" Can you not believe now? D.D.H.
Merlini passed his forefinger over one of the letters, rubbing it out. “Where’s the slate pencil?” he asked.
Arnold pointed to the table. “There. Just where she asked us to put it, in the center of the table. And she didn’t leave that chair. The control was more complete than ever tonight. Lamb and I, on either side, held her arms. I’m damned if I—”
Merlini dropped the slate back into the bag. “Anyone else on this island tonight,” he asked calmly, “anyone besides ourselves, Rappourt, the Hendersons, and your sister?”
Arnold hesitated just slightly. “As far as I know, no.”
Merlini waited a moment as if expecting someone to add to that. No one did. He withdrew a handkerchief-wrapped object from his pocket, placed it on the table, and opened it out. It was the flashlight that had rolled down the stairs.
“Know who this belongs to?”
Arnold leaned forward with sudden interest. But he shook his head. There were blank looks all around.
Then Lamb’s voice dropped heavily into the silence. “I’ve had enough of this,” he growled. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to turn in before I come down with pneumonia.” He started toward the stair, leaving a dark wet spot behind him on the carpet where he had stood.
“One more question before you go, Lamb.” The insistence in Merlini’s tone held him. “Just why hasn’t anyone mentioned Floyd Skelton?”
“Because,” Arnold answered immediately, “for once in his life Floyd seems to have escaped the unpleasantness. You’ve been asking about tonight — and Floyd has been missing since yesterday evening.”
Chapter Seven:
THE MAN FROM MARS
Lamb turned on his heel and walked up the stairs.
“Floyd,” Arnold continued, “went in to town right after dinner, about eight, before the séance. Henderson—”
“Wait. There was a séance last night too?”
“Yes—9:30 to 11:30.”
“Same sitters as tonight?”
“Yes, except that Linda and the Colonel were present and Brooke was not.”
“Where was he? Houseboat again?”
“Yes.”
“Phenomena as usual, Colonel?”
“Well, not quite. There weren’t any physical manifestations. Linda was extremely interested in automatic writing, and Madame Rappourt confined herself largely to that.”