HOW THE SPOOK WROTE A MAGIC LETTER AND ARRANGED
OUR ARREST
The Thought-Reading Exhibition had aroused great interest. A number of
our fellow prisoners wanted Hill to give them lessons, but most of them
fought shy of the three days’ starvation which was the necessary
preliminary. A few—amongst them some of our best friends in camp—offered
to undergo the fast, and Hill had all his work cut out to persuade them
not to. He finally resorted to the plea that he could not undertake more
than one pupil at a time. The exhibition had one good result. Hearing
Hill explain that my progress in telepathy was being hampered by lack of
privacy, Doc. O’Farrell placed his Dispensary at our disposal for our
experiments. As a _quid pro quo_ we promised that he should be taken on
as the next pupil as soon as my education was completed.
The Dispensary was a tiny room over the Majors’ wood-store. It was
exactly the place we needed. Here we could meet without fear of
interruption. Everybody knew we were studying the problems of telepathy,
which was a sufficient explanation of our constant hobnobbing, both for
the Turks and for our fellow-prisoners. So nobody suspected us of
plotting to escape, as they would infallibly have done had there been no
ready-made reason assignable for our conferences. Here, then, we
discussed our plans, and here the Pimple came from time to time to get
the benefit of our discussions in the form of oracular utterances by the
Spook.
The policy pursued by Hill and myself throughout our long campaign
against the Turk was always to concentrate on the obstacle immediately
ahead, and while taking every reasonable precaution about the future,
not to trouble about it overmuch until we had crossed the nearest fence
and seen what lay on the other side. In pursuance of our object not to
implicate the others, we decided that the first thing to be done was to
get moved out of the camp. But the flitting must be so arranged that the
camp would not suspect we ourselves had planned it, while the
Commandant, on the other hand, must be equally convinced that we had no
other motive than to find the treasure. We felt that escape from
separate confinement outside the camp would make it difficult for the
Commandant to charge our comrades with complicity, and at the same time
it would make it easier for us to devote our whole energies to getting a
strangle-hold on Kiazim Bey. The danger of discovery would be lessened
by more than half; for we stood in greater fear of the detective
abilities of our fellow-prisoners than of those of the Turk. Discovery
by either would have meant our being stopped.[14]
While reconnoitring the ground up to this obstacle—and we did so very
carefully—it struck us that there was no reason why the move itself
should not be so engineered as to become the direct cause of our release
by the Turks. Johnny Turk is a queer mixture of brutality and chivalry.
It was quite on the cards that if we could get the Commandant to commit
a glaring _faux pas_ at our expense, and if we could at the same time
get the British or neutral authorities to represent the matter to
Constantinople, the Turkish War Office might compensate us by granting
us a compassionate release. Indeed, such a release had already been
granted to an officer named Fitzgerald who had been wrongfully thrown
into prison early in the War. So it was not entirely a castle in Spain
that we were building.
We decided to induce Kiazim Bey to sentence us to a term of
imprisonment, under conditions as harsh as we could get him to impose.
There was little chance, however, that he would so sentence us
wrongfully; he stood in too great a fear of his own War Office to do
that. But perhaps we might succeed in getting him to do so on a charge
which to everyone but himself was manifestly and on the face of it
absurd. If there is one thing the Young Turk desires it is to be
regarded by Europe as civilized, and if there is one thing he fears it
is the ridicule of civilization. If we could arrange something, the
publication of which would render him a laughing-stock in the eyes of
Europeans, the Young Turk Government at Constantinople would gladly
either cut our throats to ensure our silence, or grant us a
compassionate release to prove that they had the civilized standpoint
and to throw the blame on the local subordinate. We thought it was about
an even chance which course they would pursue, but decided that the risk
was worth while.
Our talks were long and earnest. We examined and rejected scores of
possibilities. And we finally decided, first, to aim at being “jugged”
without cause or trial; or, failing that, to get ourselves sentenced to
imprisonment, after a public trial, on a charge of obtaining War news by
telepathic communications. I knew I could beat the Turkish censor and
get details of the charge and sentence to England, and if this charge
was not absurd enough to galvanize our War Office or the Dutch Embassy
into protest, we would give up all hope of outside assistance bringing
us our compassionate release, and rely, as Mr. Smiles advises good boys
to do, on Self-Help.
It took exactly a month to achieve our aim. The first “Dispensary
Séance” was held on February 6th, 1918. On March 6th, on the charge of
obtaining and sending military information by means of telepathy, Hill
and I were arrested, tried in the presence of brother officers, and
condemned to solitary confinement until the end of the War.
The genius that brought about this desirable state of affairs was the
Spook. A verbatim report of every question and answer set to, and given
by, our spirit-guide between February 6th and the date we left Yozgad is
before me as I write. It is a transcript of the records carefully kept
by the Pimple, who had read _Raymond_ (a copy reached our camp just
about this time), and by our advice modelled his attitude on that of Sir
Oliver Lodge. Indeed, except in the matter of fame, the two had
something in common, for in civil life the Pimple also called himself a
Professor. So, thanks to his industry and “scientific methods” of
research, it is possible to give an accurate summary of the doings and
sayings of our “Control,” and where necessary to quote its exact words.
For the historian the scientific method has much to commend itself.
Our Spook began by greeting Hill with every symptom of friendliness. The
glass did not exactly “caress” him—we had not yet reached such advanced
proficiency—but it spelled out its delight at the meeting, and it
ignored the Pimple. It went on to warn us we were making an improper use
of the Ouija. It was wrong to seek gain, wrong and dangerous, especially
for “dear C.W.H.” Under the best possible conditions the discovery of
the treasure would take a long time, possibly many months. And the
present conditions were hopeless.
“You must live together,” said the Spook to Hill and myself, “so that
your two minds become as one mind and your thoughts are one thought.
Also it is most necessary that it be all kept profoundly secret. Above
all you must be free from other thought influences; ... the other
prisoners unconsciously project their thoughts between you, thus
preventing unity. You ought to be removed elsewhere. Even prison would
be better for you than this. It would be easier to communicate if you
were alone. In one or two months you could attain more rapid methods,
such as direct speech, but it is hopeless without privacy and peaceful
surroundings. Remember I, too, have immense difficulties on this side.
Ask them” (_i.e._, the Commandant and the Pimple) “either to give up all
hope of my help in finding the treasure, or do what I say and remove
you.” And It again suggested we should be clapped into prison.
Then Moïse dropped into French, which he imagined neither Hill nor I
understood.
“Remove? _Déménager pour de bon_, or go for a sitting?”
“_Pour de bon, mon ami_,” the Spook replied. “_C’est absolument
nécessaire._” He added that it was necessary in order that the mediums
“might get into tune.” Without being “in tune” they could not find the
treasure.
This was enough for one sitting, so the “force began to go,” as the
Spiritualists put it, and the Pimple found himself confronted with the
delicate task of breaking the news to the mediums. It must be borne in
mind that, as is usual with all mediums of any standing, Hill and I were
always “absolutely ignorant” of what had been said by the Spook until
the Pimple saw fit to read it out to us. At times it was a matter of no
little difficulty to avoid displaying our knowledge of what had
occurred. When, for example, the Pimple had omitted a negative, or in
some other simple way altered the whole tenor of the Spook’s order, it
was extremely tempting to correct him. But that would have been fatal.
We learned to endure his mistakes in silence.
The Pimple told us, very gently and very sympathetically, that the
Control wanted to put us in prison. Hill and I were, of course, suitably
horror-stricken—but we gradually allowed ourselves to be persuaded to
endure even prison if necessary. For we admitted that there seemed to be
no other way of finding the treasure, and that I was pledged to the
Commandant to do my best. Besides, Hill let out casually, he had had one
experience in Australia of thwarting a Spook’s wishes, and not for all
the wealth of the Indies would he risk such a thing again. Moïse
naturally asked what the experience was, but Hill could only cover his
face with his hands and shudder. It was TOO DREADFUL to be told.
So insistent had been the Pimple in persuading us to adopt the Spook’s
plan that we thought we had won our point in the first round. But we had
reckoned without the Commandant. It has already been indicated that we
knew nothing of that gentleman’s real character. He revealed it now. An
autocrat and a tyrant to all under his sway, he was the most abject
slave of his own superiors. The post of Commandant in a Prisoner of War
Camp was highly coveted, hard to obtain, and correspondingly easy to
lose. To lose it might mean having to face the music at the front.
Bimbashi Kiazim Bey did not want that. So next day the Pimple explained
to us with tears in his eyes that the Commandant would not, on any
account, risk his position by putting us into prison without cause. He
feared a reprimand from Constantinople.
We replied that it must be prison or nothing, for who were we to improve
upon the suggestions of our Control? No, we certainly would not assault
a sentry or do anything that would justify our conviction. That was not
a fair proposition to us. But we would go to jail, without any fuss, if
he cared to send us.
Thus we struggled with the Pimple for eleven days, but in the end saw it
was hopeless. The Commandant would forego the treasure rather than risk
anything. He had not yet acquired the faith in us which made him, later
on, snap his fingers at his own War Office. The furthest he was willing
to go was to re-open what was known as “the Colonels’ House,” a
building, now empty, which had formerly formed part of the camp. Hill
and I could then go and stay there. But if other prisoners also wanted
to go, the Commandant would not prevent them, as it would look
suspicious. He must not show favouritism as it would get him into
trouble!
The Cook and the Pimple danced with rage—especially the Cook—over their
superior’s pusillanimity. But there it was. To tell the truth, Hill and
I were equally disgusted. We wanted prison. We wished heartily that the
Cook was our Commandant! But we pretended to be grateful to Kiazim Bey
for taking up such a bold stand against carrying out the Spook’s wishes.
We told the Pimple that we ourselves would never have dared to do so,
knowing, as we did, the Power of the Control. We sent him our thanks,
and as he had incurred so much danger on our behalf, to save us from the
vileness of a Turkish jail, we allowed ourselves to be persuaded to
undergo a little danger for him. We would hold one more séance and put
to the Spook his suggestion about the re-opening of the Colonels’ House.
The séance was held in the Dispensary on the 17th of February. Hill and
I had made our preparations with considerable care.
The Spook repeated its suggestion of prison. Moïse explained that it was
impossible, and suggested the Colonels’ House, at the same time pointing
out that other prisoners might want to go there and that we saw no way
of preventing them.
On the _Raymond_ model, the next part of the séance is quoted verbatim
from our records.
SPOOK. “If I tell you how to do it, will you obey?”
MOÏSE. “If it is possible and does not involve too much hardship. Will
you please tell us what we are to do?”
SPOOK. “First, in order to conceal from others the real reason of the
mediums being placed apart and to safeguard the Superior, they will be
formally arrested.”
MOÏSE. “My objection to that is the Superior cannot arrest them without
excuse.”
SPOOK. “Moïse must say he found a letter incriminating them.”
MOÏSE. “Yes, but the objection to that is, supposing Colonel Maule, the
Senior Officer (of the camp) asks to see the letter?”
SPOOK. “If I show my power, will you cease arguing?”
MOÏSE (in alarm). “Are you going to manifest, or do us any harm?”
SPOOK. “No. Merely a wonderful thing.”
MOÏSE. “Yes. We will be quite willing to see that.”
SPOOK (emphatically). “If I do this you must obey.”
MOÏSE. “It will not prevent Colonel Maule asking to see the letter.”
SPOOK. “It will satisfy Col. Maule and solve your difficulty.”
MOÏSE. “Very good. Please tell us what we are going to do?”
SPOOK. “Take a clean sheet of paper.”
MOÏSE (picking up a half sheet of notepaper out of a number that were
lying about). “Here is one.”
SPOOK. “Examine it.”
MOÏSE. “There is a watermark and the words ‘English Manufacture’
stamped.”
SPOOK. “Each of you fold it once squarely, with the sun.”
(Moïse folded it, handed it to Hill, who again folded it, and handed it
to me. I folded it for the third time and placed it on the table. All
this was done openly, above the table, in broad daylight.)
MOÏSE. “We have done it.”
SPOOK. “Next let Moïse hold it on his head.”
(Picking up the paper between finger and thumb I handed it to Moïse.)
MOÏSE. “In which hand? With or without cap?”
SPOOK. “Left. Without cap.”
(Moïse removed his balaclava—an English-made one, no doubt stolen from
one of our parcels.)
MOÏSE. “I have put it on my head” (holding it there).
SPOOK. “This is the letter you found, remember.”
MOÏSE (after a pause, during which the glass moved violently in circles
and the mediums grew more and more exhausted). “May I take it off now?”
SPOOK. “Yes.”
MOÏSE. “May I open it?”
SPOOK. “Have you promised to obey?”
MOÏSE. “We all promised whatever we can to obey it.”
SPOOK. “Open it.”
(Note by Moïse in record: “Both mediums under very high strain.”)
MOÏSE (in great excitement, seeing the paper was now written on). “May I
read it?”
SPOOK. “Yes.”
This is what the Pimple read out, written in a good feminine hand:—
“I think the experiment has been successful. Last night at the stated
time we received a telepathic message through two fellow-prisoners. It
said ‘Forces being sent South from Caucasus.’ Let me know if this was
the exact message sent. If it is correct there is no need to incur
further danger of discovery by writing messages. The rest of our
arrangements can be made by telepathy. The mediums have been sworn to
secrecy and can be absolutely trusted. Put your reply in the usual
place. IMPORTANT. ZKZVOCZHUFGCGCAVYHCYACAKLRMTUODUFUHIZLTOEPCCV.”[15]
When this was read aloud to us by the Pimple, Hill and I grew greatly
alarmed, and questioned the Spook.
JONES (in alarm). “Can Hill and I withdraw, because this might do us
harm?”
SPOOK. “If you withdraw now you are doomed.”
JONES (much agitated). “I will not withdraw. What are we to do?”
SPOOK. “Obey.”
(Note by Moïse: Both mediums were cold, giddy, and shivering at this
point.)
The Spook went on writing. Moïse, who was recording the letters touched
by the glass, suddenly gave an exclamation of surprise.
“The Spook says this is all true,” he said to us. “It says this letter
is word for word the same as one which has actually been sent.”
Hill and I simulated great agitation.
“I know it is true,” I replied; “that is why we wanted to withdraw!”
“But I thought this letter was merely an invention of the Spook,” said
Moïse.
“I wish it was,” I said, “for he has given away what we had intended to
keep as a deep secret, as it involves others.”
“Jones and I got that telepathic message about the Caucasus troops last
night,” said Hill.
“This becomes very serious and very complicated,” said the Pimple.
“I know it does,” I said. “Haven’t I tried to withdraw? But the Spook
threatens us, and we can’t! What are we to do?”
“If Moïse will keep quiet about what we have said,” Hill suggested,
“perhaps the Commandant will still think it all an invention of the
Spook’s.”
“Could you delete from your record that last sentence where the Spook
says it is all true?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Moïse, and drew his pencil lightly through it.
“And you promise not to tell the Commandant we have really been working
this telepathy business with somebody outside the camp, won’t you? We
fear he will be seriously angry and really punish us. If it wasn’t for
the Spook’s threats we would stop now!”
The Pimple soothed our fears, gave us his promise—and broke it (as we
hoped he would) as soon as the séance was ended.
All this was not merely gratuitous by-play. We were making a strong bid
to capture the Commandant’s full belief, and every step in the séance
had been carefully planned beforehand. The _manner_ in which the magic
letter was written, in broad daylight and on a piece of paper selected
by Moïse himself, seemed of itself something of a miracle. It was quite
enough to impress the Commandant with the belief that he was up against
supernatural forces. (Of course it really was nothing more than an
extremely fine specimen of Hill’s sleight-of-hand. So deft were his
movements that even I, who knew what to expect, had missed seeing the
actual substitution of the prepared letter for Moïse’s blank paper,
which had been “forced” on him, watermark and all, much as one “forces”
the choice of a card.)
Then the _matter_ of the magic letter, if true, was of extreme
importance to the Commandant, for it indicated that amongst his
prisoners of war were two mediums capable of sending and receiving
messages of military importance. Our agitation, our attempt at
withdrawal, our confession to the Pimple and our request that he should
hide from the Commandant the fact that the contents were really true—all
these were certain to be reported to Kiazim Bey, and we hoped that our
anxiety for him to consider the contents of the letter as pure
spiritistic fiction would have exactly the opposite effect.
Once he believed the contents of the letter were true, he must
necessarily conclude that Hill and I were the tools of the mysterious
agency which had written it and not _vice versa_. So we pretended It had
given away a secret which we had wished to be kept hidden, and which
endangered our safety. The central idea on which our whole plan pivoted,
and on which not only our success but our very safety would depend, was
that we were mere mouthpieces of the Spook, unconscious of what was
being said through us and quite incapable of altering or adding to it of
our own will. The Commandant must learn to treat us as impersonally as
he would treat a telephone on his office table.
After the interlude of the confession, the Pimple asked the Spook to
explain what was to be done with this mysterious letter, and how it was
going to attain for us the seclusion necessary for “our thoughts to
become one thought, and our minds one mind.”
The Spook gave full instructions. It pointed out that the letter
referred to two mediums who had received a telepathic message. It
reminded the Turks that Hill and I had recently given a public
exhibition of telepathy. We were known as telepathists to the whole
camp, and there were no others. Therefore we two must be the mediums
indicated. And it informed them that the camp believed in our powers as
thought-readers and thought-transmitters, and would admit that belief if
properly taxed with it, thereby justifying the Commandant in sentencing
us to solitary confinement.
The obvious course was, therefore, for the Commandant to set about
obtaining this admission of belief, without the camp knowing beforehand
the purpose for which he required it. The Spook advised him to set a
trap, and showed him how to do it. He should say he was interested in
telepathy, and having heard of the recent exhibition, he would like to
talk over the matter with the two principals and with any other officers
who cared to come. The Spook suggested that the Doctor in particular, as
a “man of science,” should be invited. Having got the company into the
office, the Commandant would question them as to the possibility of
telepathy. He would find that they all considered it perfectly possible,
and that they regarded Jones and Hill as exponents of the new science.
On the strength of this confession of faith he could produce the Spook
letter and ask of Jones and Hill if the telepathic message therein
referred to had been received by them. They would admit having received
it. He would then demand the names of their confederates, which they
would refuse. He could then formally charge them with being in
telepathic communication on military matters with persons outside, and
as their fellow-officers had already given evidence that Jones and Hill
could send and receive thoughts, he could convict and sentence them
without any fear of local disapprobation or of unpleasant consequences
from Constantinople. “If you do not carry out the plan,” said the Spook
in conclusion, “there will be trouble.”
“As a matter of fact,” the Pimple said, buttoning the record of the
séance inside his coat, “you and Hill can be honestly tried for
obtaining this war news. You _have_ been doing it, so the Spook is not
telling lies.”
“But don’t tell the Commandant that,” I begged.
“You are again doing as in Kut,” said Moïse knowingly.
“As in Kut?” I was genuinely at a loss for the moment.
“Yes! When Townshend employed you to read the minds of our Turkish
generals,” said Moïse, resurrecting Freak’s lie of six months before.
“The devil!” I exclaimed. “Who told you that?”
The Pimple looked very proud of himself. “Never mind,” he said. “I, too,
know things.”
“I wish I was out of this,” Hill said. “It is too dangerous. I would
like to withdraw from the whole business.”
The Pimple laughed at him. “But you dare not, you fear too much the
Spook!”