Mr. Bartol answered: "Pettus, the president of the People's Bank, has
absconded; the bank is closed, and your mother has been arrested for
complicity in his frauds."
Victor understood almost instantly, for this was exactly what Carew had
warned him about on the night of his first dinner in Mrs. Joyce's house.
"What can we do?" he asked.
"Leave that to me," replied Bartol. "I will see that your mother is
protected."
As they sat thus, waiting, while the judge disposed of a wife-beating
case, Victor thought of Altair and the mournful and exquisite smile with
which she had greeted him. What a frightful gulf gaped between these
savage and bestial men--these sullen, pinched, grimy, and malodorous
street-walkers, these sottish, half-human creatures, torn and bloody
with one another's claws--and the celestial vision which his mother, by
some inexplicable necromancy, had been able to create from the sunless
world of her magic! What a measureless stretch lay between this
clamorous, automatic, pitiless court (with its weary judge) and the
sunny bank beside the lagoon, whereon the birds were singing and where
he and Leo had so lately lain to gaze on the far horizon land of wedded
happiness and love!
Upon his musing the sounding voice of the clerk broke. "_Thomas Aiken_
vs. _Lucile Ollnee._"
Led by Mr. Bartol, Mrs. Ollnee and Mrs. Joyce moved through the gate and
stood before the judge, while from the right the complainant and his
witnesses and his lawyer came to oppose them. Victor followed his mother
and stood at the extreme left, with Leo by his side. He had no care of
what the miserable spectators in the seats would think of them. He was
only concerned with the judge and the opposing counsel.
Upon the motion of the clerk, the bailiff called out, "Hold up your
hands, everybody," and so they all, including even Leo, held up their
right hands and took the oath that what they were about to say would be
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them God.
The judge, worn by the ceaseless stream of diseased, ineffectual, and
halting humanity passing daily before his eyes, gazed in surprise and
growing interest upon this group of handsome and well-dressed people
while the prosecuting attorney presented the claims of the complaining
witness, charging the defendant with conspiring to rob or defraud one,
Mary Aiken.
"Where is Mrs. Aiken?" asked the judge.
"She is too ill to appear, your honor," replied the prosecuting
attorney, "but her granddaughter is here prepared to give in detail the
story of how the defendant, who professes to be a medium, induced her
aged and infirm grandmother to withdraw her money from certain
investments in her native town and put them into the hands of
another--namely, the absconding president of the People's Bank, thereby
impoverishing her. Thomas Aiken, the complainant, charges that the said
defendant, Lucile Ollnee, has by her uncanny powers obtained large sums
of money, and that she should be punished as a swindler."
The judge studied the faces of the witnesses before him, then asked,
"What have you to say to this, Mrs. Ollnee?"
"It is false," she replied.
The prosecution put in a word. "You will not deny that you advised these
investments?"
"I advised nothing," she retorted. "What my controls advised I only know
in a general way."
"What do you mean by 'controls'?" inquired the judge.
"I am a spirit medium, and sometimes a trance medium," she replied,
facing him steadily. "Those whom men call the dead speak through me."
"In what way?"
"Partly by writing, partly by means of voices."
"Do you mean to say that the dead speak in voices audible to others than
yourself?"
"Yes, your honor, they often speak so loud that any one may hear them.
For the most part they whisper."
The prosecution again struck in. "These voices are a part of the trick,
a part of her method of luring her victims on to do her will."
The judge turned to the complainant, Thomas Aiken, a dark-faced, sullen
young man. "Have you heard these voices, Mr. Aiken?"
"No, sir; I never had a seance; but my sister has had a number of
interviews with this woman. I know that in spite of the advice of her
friends my grandmother has been induced to give away her money to this
woman and to that scoundrel, Pettus. We have been robbed by her. It
amounts to that, and we intend to stop it."
The judge turned back to Mrs. Ollnee. "Do you wish to be tried here and
now on this charge?"
Mr. Bartol interposed. "No, your honor, we do not. This case is a very
peculiar one. My client is a lady, as you may see, and should never have
been brought into this court in this fashion. That she is a medium is
probably true; but there is no evidence of deceit on her part. She
assures me of her absolute faith in these Voices, and her manner carries
conviction. Her friends believe in her also. She claims to be nothing
more than the means of communication between this world and the world of
the dead."
The judge smiled faintly. "That is claiming a good deal--from my point
of view. What have you to say to that?" he demanded, turning again to
the complainants.
A clear, low, musical voice, the voice of a young woman, answered, "The
case is not uncommon, your honor."
Victor, craning his head forward, found himself looking directly into
the big, intense black eyes of the girl he had rebuffed on the stairway
the first day of his stay. She was vivid, intense, and very indignant as
she said: "The woman pretends to be possessed of the power of
communication with the dead, and by her arts she convinced my
grandmother that her dead husband wished the withdrawal of her money
from a bank in Moline, and that he recommended its investment in this
traction company. She played remorselessly upon the most sacred emotions
of my poor old grandmother, and I have evidence to prove that this
advice has been a part of a general scheme whereby this traction
company, a fake concern, has been able to delude other credulous souls."
As she paused her lawyer said, wearily: "It is a plain case of
swindling, your honor, and we desire to press the case to its limit at
once, for Pettus cannot be found, and we fear the flight of the
defendant."
Mr. Bartol spoke suavely. "Your honor, it is not 'a plain case of
swindling.' Mrs. Ollnee is the personal friend of Mrs. John H. Joyce,
whose name you know very well. It is true that messages were given
advising the investment of funds in the traction company, but not only
has this advice been followed by Mrs. Joyce, but by the defendant
herself, who has kept all her own small savings in the same bank."