JEWELS
If this were a conventional novel and not simply a statement of
essential facts in the strange case of Penelope Wells, there would be
much elaboration of details and minor characters, including the wife of
Dr. William Owen and an adventure that befell this lady during a
week-end visit to Morristown, N. J., since this adventure has a bearing
upon the narrative. As it is, we must be content to know that Mrs.
William Owen was an irritable and neurasthenic person, a thorn in the
side of her distinguished husband, who was supposed to cure these
ailments. He could not cure his wife, however, and had long since given
up trying. It was Mrs. Owen who quite unintentionally changed the course
of events for sad-eyed Penelope.
It happened in this way. Dr. Owen received a call from Mrs. Seraphine
Walters on the day following Seraphine's talk with Penelope and was not
overjoyed to learn that his visitor was a trance medium. If there was
one form of human activity that this hard-headed physician regarded with
particular detestation it was that of mediumship. All mediums, in his
opinion, were knaves or fools and their so-called occult manifestations
were either conjurers' trickery or self-created illusions of a hypnotic
character. He had never attended a spiritualistic séance and had no
intention of doing so.
But in spite of his aversion for Seraphine's _métier_, the doctor was
impressed by the lady's gentle dignity and by her winsome confidence
that she must be lovingly received since she herself came armed so
abundantly with the power of love. Furthermore, it appeared that the
medium had called for no other reason than to furnish information about
her dear friend Penelope Wells, so the specialist listened politely.
"You are the first spiritualist I ever talked to, Mrs. Walters," he said
amiably. "You seem to have a sunny, joyous nature?"
Her face lighted up. "That is because I have so much to be grateful for,
doctor. I have always been happy, almost always, even as a little girl,
because--" She checked herself, laughing. "I guess you are not
interested in that."
"Yes I am. Go on."
"I was only going to say that I have always known that there are
wonderful powers all about us, guarding us."
"You knew this as a little girl?"
"Oh, yes, I used to see Them when I was playing alone. I thought They
were fairies. It was a long time before I discovered that the other
children did not see Them."
"Them! Hm! How long have you been doing active work as a medium?"
"About fifteen years."
"What started you at it? I suppose there were indications that you had
unusual powers?"
"Yes. There were indications that I had been chosen for this work. I
don't know why I was chosen unless it is that I have never thought much
about myself. That is the great sin--selfishness. My controls tell me
that terrible punishment awaits selfish souls on the other side. I was
so happy when I learned that the exalted spirits can only manifest
through a loving soul. They read our thoughts, see the color of our aura
and, if they can, they come to those who have traits in common with
their own."
"If they can--how do you mean?"
"My controls tell me that many spirits cannot manifest at all, just as
many humans cannot serve as mediums."
At this moment a maid entered the office and spoke to Dr. Owen in a low
tone saying that Mrs. Owen had sent her to remind the doctor that this
was Saturday morning and that they were leaving for Morristown in an
hour to be gone over Sunday. No message could have been more unfortunate
than this for Dr. Owen's equanimity, since he abominated week-end
invitations, particularly those like the present one (which Mrs. Owen
revelled in) from pretentiously rich people.
"Very well. Tell Mrs. Owen I will be ready," he said, then turned with
changed manner to poor Seraphine, whose brightening chances were now
hopelessly dissipated.
"Suppose we come to the point, Mrs. Walters," he went on. "I am rather
pressed for time and--you say you are a friend of Mrs. Wells? Have you
any definite information bearing upon her condition?"
"Oh, yes," she replied and at once made it clear that she was fully
informed as to Penelope's distressing symptoms.
"She is suffering from shell shock," said the doctor.
"No, no!" the medium disagreed, sweetly but firmly. "Penelope's trouble
is due to something quite different and far more serious than shell
shock."
Then earnestly, undaunted by Owen's skeptical glances, Seraphine
proceeded to set forth her belief that there is today in the world such
a thing as literal possession by evil spirits.
"You mean that as applying to Mrs. Wells?" the doctor asked with a weary
lift of the shoulders.
"Yes, I do. I can give you evidence--if you will only listen--"
"My dear lady, I really cannot go into such a--purely speculative field.
I must handle Mrs. Wells' case as I understand it with the help of means
that I am familiar with."
"Of course, but, doctor," she begged, "don't be vexed with me, I am only
trying to save this dear child, I love Penelope and--I _must_ say
it--you are not making progress. She is going straight on to--to
disaster. I _know_ what I am saying."
For a moment he hesitated.
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to have a consultation with Dr. Edgar Leroy."
"Dr. Edgar Leroy? Who is he? I never heard of him."
"He is a New York doctor who has had great success in cases like
Penelope's--cases of obsession or--possession."
"Oh! Does he believe in that sort of thing? Is he a spiritualist?"
Seraphine felt the coldness of his tone and shrank from it, but she
continued her effort, explaining that Dr. Leroy had been a regular
practitioner for years, but he had changed his methods after extended
psychic investigations that had led him to new knowledge--such wonderful
knowledge! Her deep eyes burned with the zeal of a great faith.
"I see. Where is his office?"
"In Fortieth Street--it's in the telephone book--Dr. Edgar Leroy. If you
only knew the extraordinary cures he has accomplished, you would realize
how necessary it is for Penelope to have the help he alone can give
her."
She waited eagerly for his reply.
"How do you happen to know so much about this doctor?"
"Because I have been allowed to help him. He uses me in diagnosis."
"You mean that Dr. Leroy relies upon information that you give him as a
medium in treating cases?" He spoke with frank disapproval.
"Yes."
Dr. Owen thought a moment. "Of course, Mrs. Wells is free to consult
anyone she pleases, but I would not feel justified in advising her to
go to Dr. Leroy."
"But you _must_ advise it, you must insist upon it," urged Seraphine.
"Penelope relies entirely upon you, she will do nothing without your
approval, and this is her only hope."
"My dear lady, you certainly are not lacking in confidence, but you must
realize that I cannot advise a treatment for Mrs. Wells that involves
the use of spiritualistic agencies when I do not believe in
spiritualism. In fact, I regard spiritualism as--"
Seraphine lifted her hand with a wistful little smile that checked the
outburst.
"Don't say it--please don't. Will you do one thing, doctor, not for me
but for poor Penelope? Come to my house Monday night. I have a little
class there, a class of eight. We have been working together for three
months and--we have been getting results. You may be allowed to witness
manifestations that will convince you. Will you come?" she pleaded.
"You mean that I may see a spirit form? Or hear some tambourines
playing? Something of that sort?" His tone was almost contemptuously
incredulous.
The anxious suppliant was gathering her forces to reply when the hall
clock struck solemnly, bringing back disagreeably to the specialist's
mind his impending social duty, and this was sufficient to turn the
balance of his decision definitely against Seraphine. He shook his head
uncompromisingly.
"I cannot do it, madam. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have strong
convictions on this subject and--" He rose to dismiss her. "Now I must
ask you to excuse me."
In spite of this disappointment Seraphine did not lose faith. "Dear
child," she wrote to Penelope that night, "I am like a man in the
darkness who _knows_ the sun will rise soon and is not discouraged.
Before many days Dr. Owen will listen to me and be convinced."
Firm in this confidence, the medium returned to Dr. Owen's office the
following Monday morning, but she was coldly received. A rather
condescending young woman brought out word that the specialist was
exceedingly busy and could not see her.
"But it is _so_ important," pleaded Mrs. Walters with eyes that would
have moved a heart of stone. "Couldn't you ask him to give me a few
minutes? I'll be very grateful."
The office assistant wavered. "I'll tell you why you had better come
back another day, madam," she began confidentially; "Dr. Owen is very
much upset because his wife has just lost some valuable jewelry. You
see, Mrs. Owen went to Morristown for the week-end and took a jewel box
with her in her trunk--there was a pearl necklace and some brooches and
rings; but when she came to dress for dinner last night--"
"Wait! I--I hear something," Seraphine murmured and sank down weakly on
a chair. She closed her eyes and her breathing quickened, while the
young woman bent over her in concern; but almost immediately the psychic
recovered herself and looked up with a friendly smile.
"It's all right. You are very kind. I am happy now because I can do
something for Dr. Owen. Please tell him his wife is mistaken in thinking
that she took the jewels with her. The jewels are here in this
house--now."
"What makes you think that?"
"My control says so." The medium spoke with such a quiet power of manner
that the office assistant was impressed.
"Suppose I tell Mrs. Owen?" she suggested.
"Very well, tell Mrs. Owen. Ask her if I may go to the room where she
last remembers having her jewel box?"
The young woman withdrew with this message and presently returned to say
that Mrs. Owen would be glad if Seraphine would come up to her bedroom.
A few minutes later Seraphine faced a querulous invalid propped up
against lace pillows.
"I am positive I put my jewel box in the trunk," insisted Mrs. Owen. "It
is foolish to say that I did not, it is perfectly useless to look for
the jewels in this house. However--what are you doing? Why do you look
at me so strangely?"
"The jewels are--in this room--in a chintz sewing bag," the psychic
declared slowly, her eyes far away.
"Absurd!"
"I see the sewing bag--distinctly. There are pink roses on it."
"I have a sewing bag like that," admitted the doctor's wife, "it is on a
shelf in the closet--there! Will you get it for me, Miss Marshall? We
shall soon see about this. Now then!" She searched through the bag, but
found nothing. "I told you so. My husband is quite right in his ideas
about mediums. I really wish you had not disturbed me," she said
impatiently.
But the medium answered pleasantly: "I have only repeated what my
control tells me. I am sorry if I have annoyed you. I advise you to
search the house carefully."
"I have done that already," said Mrs. Owen.
Whereupon Seraphine, still unruffled, took her departure, with these
last words at the door to the office assistant: "Please tell Dr. Owen
that I beg him most earnestly to have the house searched for his wife's
jewels. Otherwise one of the servants will find them."
And Dr. Owen, in spite of his scientific prejudices, in spite of his
wife's positive declaration that the jewels had been stolen during her
visit, and that the house had been thoroughly searched, acted on this
suggestion and had the house searched again. _And this time the missing
jewel box was found, with the necklace, rings and brooches all intact,
in a chintz sewing bag covered with pink roses!_
It seems that Mrs. Owen had two chintz bags, one for ordinary sewing,
one for darning, and in the latter bag, hanging on a nail behind the
bureau, where the doctor's wife had absent-mindedly hidden it, the
missing jewel box was discovered.
"This beats the devil!" exclaimed the doctor when he heard the good
news. And an hour later he sent the following telegram to Seraphine:
"Jewels found, thanks to you. We are very grateful. I have reconsidered
the matter and accept your invitation for tonight. Will call at eight
o'clock."