The cone swung toward me, and "Wilbur" answered: "_I am, old horse._"

"Well, Wilbur, there are two bigoted scientific people here to-night,

and I want you to put them to everlasting rout."

"_I'll do it, don't you worry_," replied the voice, and the cone dropped

with a bang on the table, again making everybody jump.

"_That brought the goose-flesh_!" remarked "Wilbur," with humorous

satisfaction.

I took a malicious delight in the mystification of my fellows. "Go down

and shake up young Howard at the foot of the table," I suggested. "He

is a little in the conjuring line himself."

Almost instantly Howard cried out: "The blooming thing is touching me on

the ear!"

"Observe," called I, in the tone of a man exhibiting some kind of

trained animal, "the cone is now at least six feet from the psychic's

utmost reach. How do you account for that, Miller?"

"The boy lied," said Miller, curtly.

Howard was offended. "I'll take that out of you, old chap, when we meet

in the street. I am telling the square-toed truth. I am not doing a

thing but hold two very scared ladies' hands."

"Oh, come now!" I interposed. "If we are to be so 'tarnal suspicious of

one another, we might just as well give up the sitting. If each of us

must be padlocked, proof of any phenomenon is impossible."

A firmer hand now seemed to grasp the cone, and a deep whisper that was

almost a tone came from it. "_You are right_," this new personality

said, with measured and precise utterance. "_We come with the best tests

of a supremely important revelation; we come as scientists from our side

of the line; and you scoff, and take it all as a piece of folly, as an

entertainment. Is this just? No, it is unworthy men of science._"

"You are entirely justified in your indignation," I responded. "But who

are you?"

"_My name on the earth-plane was Mitchell._"

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, 'Mr. Mitchell,' and your rebuke is

deserved. I, for one, mean to proceed in this matter seriously. What can

you do for us to-night?"

"_Be very patient. Carry this investigation forward, and this psychic

will astonish the world. Do not abuse her; do not tax her beyond her

strength._" He spoke with the precise and rather pedantic accent of an

old gentleman nurtured on the classics, and produced upon me a distinct

impression of age and serious demeanor utterly different from the

rollicking, not too refined "Wilbur."

"I will see that she is treated fairly, 'Mr. Mitchell,' but of course

this is not a rigid test. Will you be able to permit conditions more

convincing?"

"_Yes, very much more convincing_," he replied, slowly and ponderously,

"_but do not worry the instrument to-night. Narrow your circle; be

harmonious, and not too eager, and you will be abundantly rewarded_."

"Won't you tell me who you were on the earth-plane?"

"_I was a friend of the father of the instrument_," he answered.

The horn returned to the table quietly, and young Howard was the first

to speak. "That is a fine piece of ventriloquism, any way you look at

it," said he. "It is a nice trick to give that peculiar tinny sound to a

whisper."

"So far as I can judge, so far as my sense of hearing goes (and I have

kept my ear close to the psychic's face), Mrs. Smiley has not moved, nor

uttered a sound. What is your verdict, Mr. Cocksure Scientist?"

For the first time Miller's voice indicated some slight hesitation. "I

haven't been able to _detect_ any movement on the part of the psychic,"

he replied, "but of course I can't answer for the rest of the company.

The performance has no scientific value. In the dark, deceit is easy.

Harris may be the ventriloquist."

"Why not accuse the arch-conspirator of us all, our director?" exclaimed

Mrs. Quigg.

"You flatter me," I responded. "If I could produce those voices I would

go on the vaudeville stage to-morrow. I give you my word I am acting in

entire good faith. I am quite as eager for the truth as any of

you.--But, hark! the cone is on the wing again."

The megaphone was indeed moving, as if a weak, unskilled hand were

struggling with it, and at last it swung feebly into the air, and a

whisper that was hardly more than a breath was directed toward Mrs.

Quigg: "_Daughter!_"

"Are you speaking to me?" she asked, in a voice that trembled a little.

The Shadow World · 第 13 / 36 题