"Levitation is a phenomenon which is common enough," he said by way of
preface, "but our examination would by no means be complete without it.
Of course I am only touching upon a few of the less subtle principles
that underlie what is commonly misnamed occultism; but this is one of
the obvious ones. Please let some heavy man step upon the scales."
Judge Hobart was with some laughter persuaded to take his place upon the
platform of the scales, and the indicator marked a weight of two hundred
and six pounds.
"Will you look again?" the stranger asked of the gentleman who had read
the number.
"Why, he weighs nothing!" the weigher exclaimed, in astonishment.
"His weight has broken the scales," another member declared.
"You may think," the magician went on, "that I have bewitched the
spring. Will somebody lift the Judge?"
Professor Gray, who happened to stand nearest, put out one hand and
picked the venerable Judge up as easily as he would have lifted a
pocket-handkerchief. As he took his victim by the collar, the effect
did not tend toward solemnity.
"What do you mean, sir?" demanded the Judge. "Put me down, sir, at
once."
The stranger made a little sign with his hand. The Professor saw and
understood, so instead of putting Judge Hobart down, he lightly tossed
the rotund figure upward. The Judge, probably more to his amazement than
to his satisfaction, found himself floating in the air with his head
against the ceiling, and with his legs paddling hopelessly as if he
were learning to swim. The other members shouted with laughter.
"That will do," the magician said. "I did not mean to turn things into
a farce."
The ponderous form of Judge Hobart floated softly to the floor; his face
showed a wonderful mixture of bewilderment, wounded vanity, and relief.
"It's very warm at the top of the room," he said, wiping his red
forehead; "very warm. Heat rises so."
"Other things rise also at times," somebody said.
Everybody laughed, and then the members settled into quiet again, and
listened to the magician.
"Examples of this sort are infinite in number, but one is as good as
many. The principle is everywhere the same. Levitation is really too
simple a matter to occupy more of our time. The transporting of matter
through space and through other matter is more interesting and more
important. It is also more difficult, and consequently less common.
Some time ago it was proposed in London, as a test of the reality of
occultism, that a copy of an Indian paper of any given date be produced
in London on the day of its publication in Calcutta. The test was
shirked by those who are advertising themselves by pretending to powers
which they did not have, and those who were able to do the feat had no
interest in helping to bolster up a sham. That the thing was easily
possible is the last fact with which I shall trouble you to-night. Allow
me to offer you a copy of the 'London Times' of this morning."
As he spoke, a newspaper fluttered from the air above, and fell upon the
table. The stranger checked a movement which Judge Hobart made to
examine it.
"Let me seal it first," he said. "It will make future identification
surer. Please lay it with that stick of sealing-wax on the platform."
When this had been done, he took the wax and held it above the paper.
The wax melted without visible cause, and dropped on the margin of the
journal. Leaning forward, the magician pressed his seal into the red
mass, and then flung the paper again on the table.
"It will be easy," he remarked, "to compare this with a copy received
through the ordinary channels. You do not need to be instructed in the
means proper for securing and identifying this. The experiment may seem
to you a simple one, but I assure you that it is so difficult that you
cannot hope to repeat it without preparation you would find pretty
severe."
He rose as he spoke, and drew his robe about him.
"I have to thank you," he continued, "for your patience and attention.
As I meet so many of you not infrequently, it is better to trust to your
courtesy not to name me than to your ignorance."
He pulled off, as he spoke, the black mask, and with cries of surprise
more than half the members of the Club called out the name of one of the
best-known club men of the town, a man who had traveled extensively in
the East, a man who had proved his powers by distinguished services
in literature, a man of wealth and of leisure, and one of dominating
character. Smiling calmly, he replaced the mask, and stood a moment in
silence.
"That is all," he said.
Then, with a peculiar gesture he waved his arms over the company, and
repeated a few words in some unknown tongue. He stepped down from the
platform and walked quietly from the room. But by that gesture or spell
he had strangely wrought upon their minds; from that moment no man of
them all, not even the President, has ever been able to remember who was
their acquaintance who that evening did such wonders in the sight of the
astonished Psychical Club.