NUNC COCNOSCO EX PARTE
THOMAS J. BATA LIBRARY
TRENT UNIVERSITY
2
*
THE LAND OF MIST
A. CONAN DOYLE
Hrn Pro**
The Land of Mist
By A. CONAN DOYLE
AUTHOR OF
“The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,” “Danger, and
Other Stories,” “The Lost World,” “Memoirs of
Sherlock Holmes,” “Tales of Sherlock Holmes,”
“The Valley of Fear,” etc.
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Published by arrangement with George H. Doran Company
Printed in U. S. A.
COPYRIGHT, 1916,
BY A. CONAN DOYLE
THE LAND OF MIST
— Q—
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TO THE
REVEREND GEORGE VALE OWEN
AS A TOKEN OF
SYMPATHY, ADMIRATION, AND FRIENDSHIP
JANUARY, 1926
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2019 with funding from
Kahle/Austin Foundation
https://archive.org/details/landofmistOOOOdoyl
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I In Which Our Special Commissioners
Make a Start . 11
II Which Describes an Evening in Strange
Company . . 21
III In Which Professor Challenger Gives
His Opinion . . 40
IV Which Describes Some Strange Doings in
Hammersmith . 46
V Where Our Commissioners Have a Re¬
markable Experience . 77
VI In Which the Reader Is Shown the
Habits of a Notorious Criminal ... 98
VII In Which the Notorious Criminal Gets
What the British Law Considers to Be
His Deserts . 116
VIII In Which Three Investigators Come
upon a Dark Soul . 131
IX Which Introduces Some Very Physical
Phenomena . 155
X Db Profundis . 166
XI Where Silas Linden Comes into His Own 184
XII There Are Heights and There Are
Depths . 198
XIII In Which Professor Challenger Goes
Forth to Battle . 212
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
XIV! In Which Challenger Meets a Strange
Colleague . 230
XV In Which Traps Are Laid for a Great
Quarry . 243
XVI In Which Challenger Has the Experi¬
ence of His Lifetime . 257
XVII Where the Mists Clear Away .... 274
Appendix . . . . 280
THE LAND OF MIST
THE LAND OF MIST
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH OUR SPECIAL COMMISSIONERS MAKE A
START
THE great Professor Challenger has been — very
improperly and imperfectly — used in fiction. A
daring author placed him in impossible and romantic
situations in order to see how he would react to them.
He reacted to the extent of a libel action, an abortive
appeal for suppression, a riot in Sloane Street, two
personal assaults, and the loss of his position as lec¬
turer upon Physiology at the London School of Sub-
Tropical Hygiene. Otherwise, the matter passed
more peaceably than might have been expected.
But he was losing something of his fire. Those
huge shoulders were a little bowed. The spade¬
shaped Assyrian beard showed tangles of grey amid
the black, his eyes were a trifle less aggressive, his
smile less self-complacent, his voice as monstrous as
ever but less ready to roar down all opposition. Yet
he was dangerous, as all around him were painfully
aware. The volcano was not extinct, and constant
rumblings threatened some new explosion. Life had
much yet to teach him, but he was a little less intoler¬
ant in learning.
There was a definite date for the change which
11
12
THE LAND OF MIST
had been wrought in him. It was the death of his
wife. That little bird of a woman had made her nest
in the big man’s heart. He had all the tenderness
and chivalry which the strong can have for the weak.
By yielding everything she had won everything, as a
sweet-natured, tactful woman can. And when she
died suddenly from virulent pneumonia following in¬
fluenza, the man staggered and went down. He came
up again, smiling ruefully like the stricken boxer, and
ready to carry on for many a round with Fate. But
he was not the same man, and if it had not been for
the help and comradeship of his daughter Enid, he
might never have rallied from the blow. She it was
who, with clever craft, lured him into every subject
which would excite his combative nature and infuriate
his mind, until he lived once more in the present and
not the past. It was only when she saw him turbulent
in controversy, violent to pressmen, and generally
offensive to those around him, that she felt he was
really in a fair way to recovery.
Enid Challenger was a remarkable girl and should
have a paragraph to herself. With the raven-black
hair of her father, and the blue eyes and fresh colour
of her mother, she was striking, if not beautiful, in
appearance. She was quiet, but she was very strong.
From her infancy she had either to take her own part
against her father, or else to consent to be crushed
and to become a mere automaton worked by his strong
fingers. She was strong enough to hold her own in a
gentle, elastic fashion, which bent to his moods and
reasserted itself when they were past. Lately she
had felt the constant pressure too oppressive and she
had relieved it by feeling out for a career of her own.
She did occasional odd jobs for the London press, and
did them in such fashion that her name was beginning
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to be known in Fleet Street. In finding this opening
she had been greatly helped by an old friend of her
father — and possibly of the reader — Mr. Edward
Malone of the Daily Gazette.
Malone was still the same athletic Irishman who
had once won his international cap at Rugby, but life
had toned him down also, and made him a more sub¬
dued and thoughtful man. He had put away a good
deal when at last his football-boots had been packed
away for good. His muscles may have wilted and
his joints stiffened, but his mind was deeper and more
active. The boy was dead and the man was born.
In person he had altered little, but his moustache was
heavier, his back a little rounded, and some lines of
thought were tracing themselves upon his brow.
Post-war conditions and new world problems had left
their mark. For the rest he had made his name in
journalism and even to a small degree in literature.
He was still a bachelor, though there were some who
thought that his hold on that condition was precarious,
and that Miss Enid Challenger’s little white fingers
could disengage it. Certainly they were very good
chums.
It was a Sunday evening in October, and the lights
were just beginning to twinkle out through the fog
which had shrouded London from, early morning.
Professor Challenger’s flat at Victoria West Gardens
was upon the third floor, and the mist lay thick upon
the windows, while the low hum of the attenuated
Sunday traffic rose up from an invisible highway be¬
neath, which was outlined only by scattered patches of
dull radiance. Professor Challenger sat with his
thick, bandy legs outstretched to the fire, and his hands
thrust deeply into his trouser pockets. His dress had
a little of the eccentricity of genius, for he wore a
14
THE LAND OF MIST
loose-collared shirt, a large knotted maroon-coloured
silk tie, and a black velvet smoking-jacket, which, with
his flowing beard, gave him the appearance of an
elderly and Bohemian artist. On one side of him
ready for an excursion, with bowl hat, short-skirted
dress of black, and all the other fashionable devices
with which women contrive to deform.the beauties of
nature, there sat his daughter, while Malone, hat in
hand, waited by the window.
“ I think we should get off, Enid. It is nearly
seven, ” said he.
They were writing joint articles upon the religious
denominations of London, and on each Sunday eve¬
ning they sallied out together to sample some new one
and get copy for the next week’s issue of the Gazette.
“ It’s not till eight, Ted. We have lots of time. ”
“ Sit down, sir ! Sit down ! ” boomed Challenger,
tugging at his beard as was his habit if his temper
was rising. “ There is nothing annoys me more than
having anyone standing behind me. A relic of atavism
and the fear of a dagger, but still persistent. That’s
right. For heaven’s sake put your hat down ! You
have a perpetual air of catching a train. ”
“ That’s the journalistic life, ” said Malone. “ If
we don’t catch the perpetual train we get left. Even
Enid is beginning to understand that. But still, as
you say, there is time enough. ”
“ How far have you got ? ” asked Challenger.
Enid consulted a business-like little reporter’s note¬
book.
“We have done seven. There was Westminster
Abbey for the Church in its most picturesque form,
and Saint Agatha for the High Church, and Tudor
Place for the Low. Then there was the Westmin-
* ster Cathedral for Catholics, Endell Street for Pres-
OUR COMMISSIONERS START
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byterians, and Gloucester Square for Unitarians. But
to-night we are trying to introduce some variety. We
are doing the Spiritualists. ”
Challenger snorted like an angry buffalo.
“ Next week the lunatic asylums, I presume, ” said
he. “ You don’t mean to tell me, Malone, that these
ghost people have got churches of their own. ”
“ I’ve been looking into that, ” said Malone. “ I
always look up cold facts and figures before I tackle a
job. They have over four hundred registered
churches in Great Britain. ”
Challenger’s snorts now sounded like a whole herd
of buffaloes.
“ There seems to me to be absolutely no limit to the
inanity and credulity of the human race. Homo
sapiens! Homo idioticus! Whom do they pray to
— the ghosts ? ”
“ Well, that’s what we want to find out. We
should get some copy out of them. I need not say
that I share your view entirely, but I’ve seen some¬
thing of Atkinson of St. Mary’s Hospital lately. He
is a rising surgeon, you know. ”
“ I’ve heard of him — cerebro-spinal. ”
“ That’s the man. He is level-headed and is looked
on as an authority on psychic research, as they call
the new science which deals with these matters. ”
“ Science, indeed ! ”
“ Well, that is what they call it. He seems to take
these people seriously. I consult him when I want a
reference, for he has the literature at his fingers’ end.
‘ Pioneers of the Human Race ’ — that was his descrip¬
tion. ”
“ Pioneering them to Bedlam, ” growled Chal¬
lenger. “ And literature ! What literature have
they ? ”
16
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Well, that was another surprise. Atkinson has
five hundred volumes, but complains that his psychic
library is very imperfect. You see, there is French,
German, Italian, as well as our own.”
“ Well, thank God all the folly is not confined to
poor old England. Pestilential nonsense ! ”
“ Have you read it up at all, Father ? ” asked Enid.
“ Read it up ! I, with all my interests and no time
for one-half of them ! Enid, you are too absurd. ”
“ Sorry, Father. You spoke with such assurance,
I thought you knew something about it. ”
Challenger’s huge head swung round and his lion’s
glare rested upon his daughter.
“ Do you conceive that a logical brain, a brain of
the first order, needs to read and to study before it
can detect a manifest absurdity ? Am I to study
mathematics in order to confute the man who tells
me that two and two are five ? Must I study physics
once more and take down my Principia because some
rogue or fool insists that a table can rise in the air
against the law of gravity ? Does it take five hundred
volumes to inform us of a thing which is proved in
every police-court when an impostor is exposed?
Enid, I am ashamed of you ! ”
His daughter laughed merrily.
“ Well, Dad, you need not roar at me any more. I
give in. In fact, I have the same feeling that you
have. ”
None the less, ” said Malone, “ some good men
support them. I don’t see that you can laugh at Lodge
and Crookes and the others. ”
Don’t be absurd, Malone. Every great mind has
its weaker side. It is a sort of reaction against all the
good sense. You come suddenly upon a vein of posi¬
tive nonsense. That is what is the matter with these
OUR COMMISSIONERS START
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fellows. No, Enid, I haven’t read their reasons, and
I don’t mean to, either; some things are beyond the
pale. If we re-open all the old questions, how can we
ever get ahead with the new ones? This matter is
settled by common sense, the law of England, and by
the universal assent of every sane European. ”
“ So that’s that ! ” said Enid.
“ However, ” he continued, “ I can admit that there
are occasional excuses for misunderstandings upon the
point. ” He sank his voice, and his great grey eyes
looked sadly up into vacancy. “ I have known cases
where the coldest intellect — even my own intellect —
might, for a moment, have been shaken. ”
Malone scented copy.
“Yes, sir ?”
Challenger hesitated. Ele seemed to be struggling
with himself. He wished to speak, and yet speech was
painful. Then, with an abrupt, impatient gesture, he
plunged into his story:
“ I never told you, Enid. It was too — too
intimate. Perhaps too absurd. I was ashamed to
have been so shaken. But it shows how even the best
balanced may be caught unawares.”
“ Yes, sir ? ”
“ It was after my wife’s death. You knew her,
Malone. You can guess what it meant to me. It
was the night after the cremation . . . horrible,
Malone, horrible ! I saw the dear little body slide
down, down — and then the glare of flame and the
door clanged to.” His great body shook and he
passed his big, hairy hand over his eyes.
“ I don’t know why I tell you this; the talk seemed
to lead up to it. It may be a warning to you. That
night — the night after the cremation — I sat up in the
hall. She was there,” he nodded at Enid. “She had
18
THE LAND OF MIST
fallen asleep in a chair, poor girl. You know the
house at Rotherfield, Malone. It was in the big hall.
I sat by the fireplace, the room all draped in shadow,
and my mind draped in shadow also. I should have
sent her to bed, but she was lying back in her chair and
I did not wish to wake her. It may have been one in
the morning — I remember the moon shining through
the stained-glass window. I sat and I brooded. Then
suddenly there came a noise.”
“Yes, sir ?”
“ It was low at first — just a ticking. Then it grew
louder and more distinct — it was a clear rat-tat-tat.
Now comes the queer coincidence, the sort of thing out
of which legends grow when credulous folk have the
shaping of them. You must know that my wife had
a peculiar way of knocking at a door. It was really
a little tune which she played with her fingers. I got
into the same way so that we could each know when
the other knocked. Well, it seemed to me — of course
my mind was strained and abnormal — that the taps
shaped themselves into the well-known rhythm of her
knock. I couldn’t localise it. You can think how
eagerly I tried. It was above me, somewhere on the
woodwork. I lost sense of time. I daresay it was
repeated a dozen times at least.”
“ Oh, Dad, you never told me ! ”
“ No, but I woke you up. I asked you to sit quiet
with me for a little.”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“ Well, we sat, but nothing happened. Not a sound
more. Of course it was a delusion. Some insect in
the wood; the ivy on the outer wall. My own brain
furnished the rhythm. Thus do we make fools and
children of ourselves. But it gave me an insight. I
OUR COMMISSIONERS START
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saw how even a clever man could be deceived by his
own emotions.”
“ But how do you know, sir, that it was not your
wife ? ”
“ Absurd, Malone ! Absurd, I say ! I tell you I
Saw her in the flames. What was there left ? ”
“ Her soul, her spirit.”
Challenger shook his head sadly.
“ When the dear body dissolved into its elements —
when its gases went into the air and its residue of
solids sank into a grey dust — it was the end. There
was no more. She had played her part, played it
beautifully, nobly. It was done. Death ends all,
Malone. This soul-talk is the Animism of savages.
It is a superstition, a myth. As a physiologist I will
undertake to produce crime or virtue by vascular con¬
trol or cerebral stimulation. I will turn a Jekyll into
a Hyde by a surgical operation. Another can do it
by a psychological suggestion. Alcohol will do it.
Drugs will do it. Absurd, Malone, absurd ! As the
tree falls, so does it lie. There is no next morning
. . . night — eternal night . . . and long
rest for the weary worker.”
“Well, it’s a sad philosophy.”
“ Better a sad than a false one.”
“ Perhaps so. There is something virile and manly
in facing the worst. I would not contradict. My
reason is with you.”
“ But my instincts are against ! ” cried Enid. “ No,
no, never can I believe it.” She threw her arms round
the great bull neck. “ Don’t tell me, daddy, that you
with all your complex brain and wonderful self are a
thing with no more life hereafter than a broken
clock ! ”
“ Four buckets of water and a bagful of salts,” said
20
THE LAND OF MIST
Challenger as he smilingly detached his daughter’s
grip. “ That’s your daddy, my lass, and you may as
well reconcile your mind to it. Well, it’s twenty to
eight. Come back, if you can, Malone, and let me
hear your adventures among the insane.”
CHAPTER II
WHICH DESCRIBES AN EVENING IN STRANGE COMPANY
THE love-affair of Enid Challenger and Edward
Malone is not of the slightest interest to the
reader, for the simple reason that it is not of the
slightest interest to the writer. The unseen, un¬
noticed lure of the unborn babe is common to all
youthful humanity. We deal in this chronicle with
matters which are less common and of higher interest.
It is only mentioned in order to explain those terms
of frank and intimate comradeship which the narrative
discloses. If the human race has obviously improved
in anything — in Anglo-Celtic countries, at least —
it is that the prim affectations and sly deceits of the
past are lessened, and that young men and women can
meet in an equality of clean and honest comradeship.
A taxi took the adventurers down Edgware Road
and into the side-street called “ Helbeck Terrace. ”
Halfway down, the dull line of brick houses was
broken by one glowing gap, where an open arch threw
a flood of light into the street. The cab pulled up
and the man opened the door.
“ This is the Spiritualist Church, sir,” said he.
Then, as he saluted to acknowledge his tip, he added
in the wheezy voice of the man of all weathers:
“ Tommy-rot, I call it, sir.” Having eased his con¬
science thus he climbed into his seat and a moment
later his red rear-lamp was a waning circle in the
gloom. Malone laughed.
21
22
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Vox populi, Enid. That is as far as the public has
got at the present.”
“ Well, it is as far as we have got, for that matter.”
“ Yes, but we are prepared to give them a show. I
don’t suppose Cabby is. By Jove, it will be hard luck
if we can’t get in ! ”
There was a crowd at the door and a man was
facing them from the top of the step, waving his arms
to keep them back.
“ It’s no good, friends. I am very sorry, but we
can’t help it. We’ve been threatened twice with
prosecution for over-crowding.” He turned facetious.
“ Never heard of an Orthodox Church getting into
trouble for that. No, sir, no.”
“ I’ve come all the way from ’Ammersmith,” wailed
a voice. The light beat upon the eager, anxious face
of the speaker, a little woman in black with a baby in
her arms.
“You’ve come for clairvoyance, Mam,” said the
usher, with intelligence. “ See here, give me the name
and address and I will write you, and Mrs. Debbs will
give you a sitting gratis. That’s better than taking
your chance in the crowd when, with all the will in the
world, you can’t all get a turn. You’ll have her to
yourself. No, sir, there’s no use shovin’
What’s that ? . . . Press ?
He had caught Malone by the elbow.
“ Did you say Press ? The Press boycott us, sir.
Look at the weekly list of services in a Saturday’s
Times if you doubt it. You wouldn’t know there was
such a thing as Spiritualism. . . . What paper,
sir ? . . . ‘ The Daily Gazette.’ Well, well, we
are getting on. And the lady, too ? . . . Special
article — my word ! Stick to me, sir, and I’ll see what
I can do. Shut the doors, Joe. No use, friends.
IN STRANGE COMPANY
23
When the building fund gets on a bit we’ll have more
room for you. Now, miss, this way, if you please.”
This way proved to be down the street and round
a side-alley which brought them to a small door with a
red lamp shining above it.
“ I’ll have to put you on the platform — there’s no
standing room in the body of the hall.”
“ Good gracious ! ” cried Enid.
“ You’ll have a fine view, miss, and maybe get a
readin’ for yourself if you’re lucky. It often happens
that those nearest the medium get the best chance.
Now, sir, in here ! ”
Here was a frowsy little room with some hats and
top-coats draping the dirty, white-washed walls. A
thin, austere woman, with eyes which gleamed from
behind her glasses, was warming her gaunt hands over
a small fire. With his back to the fire in the tradi¬
tional British attitude was a large, fat man with a
bloodless face, a ginger moustache and curious, light-
blue eyes — the eyes of a deep-sea mariner. A little
bald-headed man with huge horn-rimmed spectacles,
and a very handsome and athletic youth in a blue
lounge-suit, completed the group.
“The others have gone on the platform, Mr.
Peeble. There’s only five seats left for ourselves.” It
was the fat man talking.
“ I know, I know,” said the man who had been
addressed as Peeble, a nervous, stringy, dried-up per¬
son as he now appeared in the light. “ But this is
the Press, Mr. Bolsover. Daily Gazette — special
article. . . . Malone the name, and Challenger.
This is Mr. Bolsover, our President. This is Mrs.
Debbs of Liverpool, the famous clairvoyante. Here
is Mr. James, and this tall young gentleman is Mr.
Hardy Williams, our energetic secretary. Mr. Wil-
3c3V
24
THE LAND OF MIST
liams is a nailer for the buildin’ fund. Keep your
eye on your pockets if Mr. Williams is around.”
They all laughed.
“ Collection comes later,” said Mr. Williams, smil¬
ing-
“ A good, rousing article is our best collection,”
said the stout president. “ Ever been to a meeting
before, sir ? ”
“ No,” said Malone.
“ Don’t know much about it, I expect.”
“ No, I don’t.”
“ Well, well, we must expect a slating. They get it
from the humorous angle at first. We’ll have you
writing a very comic account. I never could see any¬
thing very funny in the spirit of one’s dead wife, but
it’s a matter of taste and of knowledge also. If they
don’t know, how can they take it seriously ? I don’t
blame them. We were mostly like that ourselves
once. I was one of Bradlaugh’s men, and sat under
Joseph MacCabe until my old Dad came and pulled
me out.”
“ Good for him ! ” said the Liverpool medium.
“ It was the first time I found I had powers of my
own. I saw him like I see you now.”
“ Was he one of us in the body ? ”
“ Knew no more than I did. But they come on
amazin’ at the other side if the right folk get hold of
them.”
“ Time’s up ! ” said Mr. Peeble, snapping his
watch. “ You are on the right of the chair, Mrs.
Debbs. Will you go first ? Then you, Mr. Chair¬
man. Then you two and myself. Get on the left,
Mr. Hardy Williams, and lead the singin’. They want
warmin’ up and you can do it. Now then, if you
please ! ”
IN STRANGE COMPANY
25
The platform was already crowded, but the new¬
comers threaded their way to the front amid a de¬
corous murmur of welcome. Mr. Peeble shoved and
exhorted and two end seats emerged upon which Enid
and Malone perched themselves. The arrangement
suited them well, for they could use their notebooks
freely behind the shelter of the folk in front.
“ What is your reaction ? ” whispered Enid.
“ Not impressed as yet.”
“ No, nor I,” said Enid, “ but it’s very interesting
all the same.”
People who are in earnest are always interesting,
whether you agree with them or not, and it was im¬
possible to doubt that the people were extremely
earnest. The hall was crammed, and as one looked
down one saw line after line of upturned faces, cu¬
riously alike in type, women predominating, but men
running them close. That type was not distinguished
nor intellectual, but it was undeniably healthy, honest
and sane. Small trades-folk, male and female shop¬
walkers, better class artisans, lower middle-class
women worn with household cares, occasional young
folk in search of a sensation — these were the impres¬
sions which the audience conveyed to the trained ob¬
servation of Malone.
The fat president rose and raised his hand.
“ My friends,” said he, “ we have had once more
to exclude a great number of people who’d desired to
be with us to-night. It’s all a question of the building-
fund, and Mr. Williams on my left will be glad to hear
from any of you. I was in a hotel last week and they
had a notice hung up in the reception bureau. ‘ No
cheques accepted.’ That’s not the way Brother Wil¬
liams talks. You just try him.”
26
THE LAND OF MIST
The audience laughed. The atmosphere was clearly
that of the lecture-hall rather than of the Church.
“ There’s just one more thing I want to say before
I sit down. I’m not here to talk. I’m here to hold
this chair down and I mean to do it. It’s a hard thing
I ask. I want Spiritualists to keep away on Sunday
nights. They take up the room that inquirers should
have. You can have the morning service. But its
better for the cause that there should be room for the
stranger. You’ve had it. Thank God for it. Give
the other man a chance.” The president plumped
back into his chair.
Mr. Peeble sprang to his feet. He was clearly the
general utility man who emerges in every society and
probably becomes its autocrat. With his thin, eager
face and darting hands he was more than a live wire —
he was a whole bundle of live wires. Electricity
seemed to crackle from his finger-tips.
“ Hymn One ! ” he shrieked.
A harmonium droned and the audience rose. It was
a fine hymn and lustily sung:
“ The world hath felt a quickening breath
From Heaven’s eternal shore.
And souls triumphant over death
Return to earth once more. ”
There was a ring of exultation in the voices as the
refrain rolled out:
“ For this we hold our Jubilee
For this with joy we sing,
'Oh Grave, where is thy victory,
Oh Death, where is thy sting ? ’ ”
Yes, they were in earnest, these people. And they
did not appear to be mentally weaker than their
fellows. And yet both Enid and Malone felt a sen¬
sation of great pity as they looked at them. How sad
IN STRANGE COMPANY
27
to be deceived upon so intimate a matter as this, to be
duped by impostors who used their most sacred feel¬
ings and their beloved dead as counters with which to
cheat them. What did they know of the laws of evi¬
dence, of the cold, immutable decrees of scientific
law ? Poor earnest, honest, deluded people !
“ Now ! ” screamed Mr. Peeble. “ We shall ask
Mr. Munro from Australia to give us the invocation.”
A wild-looking old man with a shaggy beard and
slumbering fire in his eyes rose up and stood for a few
seconds with his gaze cast down. Then he began a
prayer, very simple, very unpremeditated. Malone
jotted down the first sentence: “ Oh, Father, we are
very ignorant folk and do not well know how to
approach you, but we will pray to you the best
we know how.” It was all cast in that humble key.
Enid and Malone exchanged a swift glance of appre¬
ciation.
There was another hymn, less successful than the
first, and the chairman then announced that Mr. James
Jones of North Wales would now deliver a trance
address which would embody the views of his well-
known control, Alasha the Atlantean.
Mr. James Jones, a brisk and decided little man in a
faded check suit, came to the front and, after standing
a minute or so as if in deep thought, gave a violent
shudder and began to talk. It must be admitted that
save for a certain fixed stare and vacuous glazing of
the eye there was nothing to show that anything save
Mr. James Jones of North Wales was the orator. It
has also to be stated that if Mr. Jones shuddered at
the beginning it was the turn of his audience to
shudder afterwards. Granting his own claim, he had
proved clearly that an Atlantean spirit might be a
portentous bore. He droned on with platitudes and
28
THE LAND OF MIST
ineptitudes while Malone whispered to Enid that if
Alasha was a fair specimen of the population it was
just as well that his native land was safely engulfed
in the Atlantic Ocean. When, with another rather
melodramatic shudder, he emerged from his trance,
the chairman sprang to his feet with an alacrity which
showed that he was taking no risks lest the Atlantean
should return.
“ We have present with us to-night,” he cried,
“ Mrs. Debbs, the well-known clairvoyante of Liver¬
pool. Mrs. Debbs is, as many of you know, richly en¬
dowed with several of those gifts of the spirit of which
Saint Paul speaks, and the discerning of spirits is
among them. These things depend upon laws which
are beyond our control, but a sympathetic atmosphere
is essential, and Mrs. Debbs will ask for your good
wishes and your prayers while she endeavours to get
into touch with some of those shining ones on the other
side who may honour us with their presence to-night.”
The president sat down and Mrs. Debbs rose amid
discreet applause. Very tall, very pale, very thin,
with an aquiline face and eyes shining brightly from
behind her gold-rimmed glasses, she stood facing her
expectant audience. Her head was bent. She seemed
to be listening.
“ Vibrations ! ” she cried at last. “ I want helpful
vibrations. Give me a verse on the harmonium,
please.”
The instrument droned out “ Jesus, Lover of my
soul.” The audience sat in silence, expectant and a
little awed. The hall was not too well lit and dark
shadows lurked in the corners. The medium still
bent her head as if her ears were straining. Then
she raised her hand and the music stopped.
“ Presently ! Presently ! All in good time,” said
IN STRANGE COMPANY
29
the woman, addressing some invisible companion.
Then to the audience, “ I don't feel that the conditions
are very good to-night. I will do my best and so will
they. But I must talk to you first.”
And she talked. What she said seemed to the two
strangers to be absolute gabble. There was no con¬
secutive sense in it, though now and again a phrase or
sentence caught the attention. Malone put his stylo
in his pocket. There was no use reporting a lunatic.
A Spiritualist next him saw his bewildered disgust and
leaned towards him.
“ She’s tuning in. She’s getting her wave length,”
he whispered. “ It’s all a matter of vibration. Ah,
there you are I ”
She had stopped in the very middle of a sentence.
Her long arm and quivering forefinger shot out. She
was pointing at an elderly woman in the second row.
“ You ! Yes, you, with the red feather. No, not
you. The stout lady in front. Yes, you ! There is
a spirit building up behind you. It is a man. He is
a tall man — six foot maybe. High forehead, eyes grey
or blue, a long chin, brown moustache, lines on his
face. Do you recognise him, friend ? ”
The stout woman looked alarmed, but shook her
head.
“ Well, see if I can help you. He is holding up a
book — brown book with a clasp. It’s a ledger same as
they have in offices. I get the words ‘ Caledonian
Insurance.’ Is that any help ? ”
The stout woman pursed her lips and shook her
head vigorously.
“ Well, I can give you a little more. He died after
a long illness. I get chest trouble — asthma.”
The stout woman was still obdurate, but a small,
30
THE LAND OF MIST
angry, red-faced person, two places away from her,
sprang to her feet.
“ It’s my ’usband, ma’am. Tell ’im I don’t want to
’ave any more dealin’s with him.” She sat down with
decision.
“ Yes, that’s right. He moves to you now. He
was nearer the other. He wants to say he’s sorry.
It doesn’t do, you know, to have hard feelings to the
dead. Forgive and forget. It’s all over. I get a
message for you. It is: ‘ Do it and my blessings go
with you ! ’ Does that mean anything to you ? ”
The angry woman looked pleased and nodded.
“ Very good.” The clairvoyante suddenly darted
out her finger towards the crowd at the door. “ It’s
for the soldier.”
A soldier in khaki, looking very much amazed, was
in the front of the knot of people.
“ Wot’s for me ? ” he asked.
“ It’s a soldier. He has a corporal’s stripes. He is
a big man with grizzled hair. He has a yellow tab on
his shoulders. I get the initials J. H. Do you know
him ? ”
“ Yes — but he’s dead,” said the soldier.
He had not understood that it was a Spiritualistic
Church, and the whole proceedings had been a mystery
to him. They were rapidly explained by his neigh¬
bours. “ My Gawd ! ” cried the soldier, and van¬
ished amid a general titter. In the pause Malone
could hear the constant mutter of the medium as she
spoke to someone unseen.
“ Yes, yes, wait your turn ! Speak up, woman !
Well, take your place near him. How should I know ?
Well, I will if I can.” She was like a janitor at the
theatre marshalling a queue.
Her next attempt was a total failure. A solid man
IN STRANGE COMPANY
31
with bushy side-whiskers absolutely refused to have
anything to do with an elderly gentleman who claimed
kinship. The medium worked with admirable patience,
coming back again and again with some fresh detail,
but no progress could be made.
“ Are you a Spiritualist, friend ? ”
“ Yes, for ten years.”
“ Well, you know there are difficulties.”
“ Yes, I know that.”
“ Think it over. It may come to you later. We
must just leave it at that. I am only sorry for your
friend.”
There was a pause during which Enid and Malone
exchanged whispered confidences.
“ What do you make of it, Enid ? ”
“ I don’t know. It confuses me.”
“ I believe it is half guess-work and the other half
a case of confederates. These people are all of the
same church and naturally they know each other’s
affairs. If they don’t know they can enquire.”
“ Someone said it was Mrs. Debbs’ first visit.”
“ Yes, but they could easily coach her up. It is
all clever quackery and bluff. It must be, for just
think what is implied if it is not.”
“ Telepathy, perhaps.”
“ Yes, some element of that also. Listen ! She
is off again.”
Her next attempt was more fortunate. A lugu¬
brious man at the back of the hall readily recognised
the description and claims of his deceased wife.
“ I get the name Walter.”
“ Yes, that’s me.”
“ She called you Walt ? ”
“ No.”
“ Well, she calls Wat now. ‘ Tell Wat to give
32
THE LAND OF MIST
my love to the children.’ That’s how I get it. She is
worrying about the children.”
“ She always did.”
“ Well, they don’t change. Furniture. Something
about furniture. She says you gave it away. Is that
right ? ”
“ Well, I might as well.”
The audience tittered. It was strange how the most
solemn and the comic were eternally blended — strange
and yet very natural and human.
“ She has a message : ‘ The man will pay up and all
will be well. Be a good man, Wat, and we will be
happier here than ever we were on earth.’ ”
The man put his hand over his eyes. As the seeress
stood irresolute the tall young secretary half rose and
whispered something in her ear. The woman shot
a swift glance over her left shoulder in the direction of
the visitors.
“ I’ll come back to it,” said she.
She gave two more descriptions to the audience,
both of them rather vague, and both recognised with
some reservations. It was a curious fact that her
details were such as she could not possibly see at the
distance. Thus, dealing with a form which she claimed
had built up at the far end of the hall, she could none
the less give the colour of the eyes and small points of
the face. Malone noted the point as one which he
could use for destructive criticism. He was just
jotting it down when the woman’s voice sounded
louder and, looking up, he found that she had turned
her head and her spectacles were flashing in his
direction.
“ It is not often I give a reading from the plat¬
form,” said she, her face rotating between him and
the audience, “but we have friends here to-night, and
IN STRANGE COMPANY
33
it may interest them to come in contact with the spirit
people. There is a presence building up behind the
gentleman with a moustache — the gentleman who sits
next to the young lady. Yes, sir, behind you. He is
a man of middle size, rather inclined to shortness.
He is old, over sixty, with white hair, curved nose
and a white, small beard of the variety that is called
goatee. He is no relation, I gather, but a friend.
Does that suggest anyone to you, sir ? ”
Malone shook his head with some contempt. “ It
would fit nearly any old man,” he whispered to Enid.
“ We will try to get a little closer. He has deep
lines on his face. I should say he was an irritable
man in his lifetime. He was quick and nervous in his
ways. Does that help you ? ”
Again Malone shook his head.
“ Rot ! Perfect rot,” he muttered.
“ Well, he seems very anxious so we must do what
we can for him. He holds up a book. It is a learned
book. He opens it and I see diagrams in it. Perhaps
he wrote it — or perhaps he taught from it. Yes, he
nods. He taught from it. He was a teacher.”
Malone remained unresponsive.
“ I don’t know that I can help him any more. Ah !
there is one thing. He has a mole over his right eye¬
brow.”
Malone started as if he had been stung.
“ One mole ? ” he cried.
The spectacles flashed round again.
“ Two moles — one large, one small.”
“ My God ! ” gasped Malone. “ It’s Professor
Summerlee ! ”
“ Ah, you’ve got it. There’s a message : ‘ Greet¬
ings to old - ’ It’s a long name and begins with a
C. I can’t get it. Does it mean anything ? ”
34 THE LAND OF MIST
“ Yes.”
In an instant she had turned and was describing
something or someone else. But she had left a badly-
shaken man upon the platform behind her.
It was at this point that the orderly service had a
remarkable interruption which surprised the audience
as much as it did the two visitors. This was the
sudden appearance beside the chairman of a tall, pale-
faced, bearded man dressed like a superior artisan,
who held up his hand with a quietly impressive gesture
as one who was accustomed to exert authority. He
then half turned and said a word to Mr. Bolsover.
“ This is Mr. Miromar of Dalston,” said the Chair¬
man. “ Mr. Miromar has a message to deliver. We
are always glad to hear from Mr. Miromar.”
The reporters could only get a half-view of the new¬
comer’s face, but both of them were struck by his noble
bearing and by the massive outline of his head which
promised very unusual intellectual power. His voice
when he spoke rang clearly and pleasantly through the
hall.
“ I have been ordered to give the message wherever
I think that there are ears to hear it. There are some
here who are ready for it, and that is why I have
come. They wish that the human race should grad¬
ually understand the situation so that there shall be
the less shock or panic. I am one of several who are
chosen to carry the news.”
“ A lunatic, I’m afraid ! ” whispered Malone, scrib¬
bling hard upon his knee. There was a general inclina¬
tion to smile among the audience. And yet there was
something in the man’s manner and voice which made
them hang on every word.
“ Things have now reached a climax. The very
idea of progress has been made material. It is prog-
IN STRANGE COMPANY
35
ress to go swiftly, to send swift messages, to build
new machinery. All this is a diversion of real am¬
bition. There is only one real progress — spiritual
progress. Mankind gives it a lip tribute but presses
on upon its false road of material science.
“ The Central Intelligence recognised that amid all
the apathy there was also much honest doubt which
had outgrown old creeds and had a right to fresh
evidence. Therefore fresh evidence was sent — evi¬
dence which made the life after death as clear as the
sun in the heavens. It was laughed at by scientists,
condemned by the churches, became the butt of the
newspapers and was discarded with contempt. That
was the last and greatest blunder of humanity.”
The audience had their chins up now. General
speculations were beyond their mental horizon. But
this was very clear to their comprehension. There
was a murmur of sympathy and applause.
“ The thing was now hopeless. It had got beyond
all control. Therefore something sterner was needed
since Heaven’s gift had been disregarded. The blow
fell. Ten million men were laid dead upon the
ground. Twice as many were mutilated. That was
God’s first warning to mankind. But it was vain.
The same dull materialism prevailed as before.
Years of grace were given, and save the stirrings of
the spirit seen in such churches as these, no change was
anywhere to be seen. The nations heaped up fresh
loads of sin and sin must ever be atoned for. Russia
became a cesspool. Germany was unrepentant of her
terrible materialism which had been the prime cause of
the war. Spain and Italy were sunk in alternate
atheism and superstition. France had no religious
ideal. Britain was confused and distracted, full of
wooden sects which had nothing of life in them.
36
THE LAND OF MIST
America had abused her glorious opportunities and
instead of being the loving younger brother to a
stricken Europe she held up all economic reconstruc¬
tion by her money claims; she dishonoured the signa¬
ture of her own president, and she refused to join
that League of Peace which was the one hope of the
future. All have sinned, but some more than others,
and their punishment will be in exact proportion.
“ And that punishment comes soon. These are the
exact words I have been asked to give you. I read
them lest I should in any way garble them.”
He took a slip of paper from his pocket and read:
“ ‘ What we want is, not that folk should be
frightened, but that they should begin to change them¬
selves — to develop themselves on more spiritual lines.
We are not trying to make people nervous, but to pre¬
pare while there is yet time. The world cannot go on
as it has done. It would destroy itself if it did. Above
all we must sweep away the dark cloud of theology
which has come between mankind and God. ’ ”
He folded up the paper and replaced it in his
pocket.
“That is what I have been asked to tell you. Spread
the news where there seems to be a window in the
soul. Say to them, ‘ Repent ! Reform ! the Time
is at hand.’ ”
He had paused and seemed about to turn. The
spell was broken. The audience rustled and leaned
back in its seats. Then a voice came from the back.
“ Is this the end of the world, mister ? ”
“ No,” said the stranger, curtly.
“ Is it the Second Coming ? ” asked another voice.
“ Yes.”
With quick, light steps he threaded his way among
IN STRANGE COMPANY
37
the chairs on the platform and stood near the door.
When Malone next looked round he was gone.
“ He is one of these Second-coming fanatics,” he
whispered to Enid. “ There are a lot of them —
Christadelphians, Russellites, Bible Students and
what-not. But he was impressive.”
“ Very,” said Enid.
“ We have, I am sure, been very interested in what
our friend has told us,” said the chairman. “ Mr.
Miromar is in hearty sympathy with our movement
even though he cannot be said actually to belong to it.
I am sure he is always welcome upon our platforms.
As to his prophecy, it seems to me the world has had
enough trouble without our anticipating any more.
If it is as our friend says, we can’t do much to mend
the matter. We can only go about our daily jobs, do
them as well as we can, and await the event in full
confidence of help from above. If it’s the Day of
Judgment to-morrow,” he added, smiling, “ I mean to
look after my provision store at Hammersmith to-day.
We shall now continue with the service.”
There was a vigorous appeal for money and a great
deal about the building-fund from the young secretary.
“ It’s a shame to think that there are more left in the
street than in the building on a Sunday night. We all
give our services. No one takes a penny. Mrs.
Debbs is here for her bare expenses. But we want
another thousand pounds before we can start. There
is one brother here who mortgaged his house to help
us. That’s the spirit that wins. Now let us see what
you can do for us to-night.”
A dozen soup-plates circulated, and a hymn was
sung to the accompaniment of much chinking of coin.
Enid and Malone conversed in undertones.
38
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Professor Summerlee died, you know, at Naples
last year.”
“ Yes, I remember him well.”
“ And ‘ old C.’ was, of course, your father.”
“ It was really remarkable.”
“ Poor old Summerlee. He thought survival was
an absurdity. And here he is — or here he seems to
be.”
The soup-plates returned — it was mostly brown
soup, unhappily, and they were deposited on the table
where the eager eye of the secretary appraised their
value. Then the little shaggy man from Australia
gave a benediction in the same simple fashion as the
opening prayer. It needed no Apostolic succession or
laying-on of hands to make one feel that his words
were from a human heart and might well go straight
to a Divine one. Then the audience rose and sang
their final farewell hymn — a hymn with a haunting
tune and a sad, sweet refrain of “ God keep you safely
till we meet once more.” Enid was surprised to feel
the tears running down her cheeks. These earnest,
simple folk with their direct methods had wrought
upon her more than all the gorgeous service and roll¬
ing music of the cathedral.
Mr. Bolsover, the stout president, was in the
waiting-room and so was Mrs. Debbs.
“ Well, I expect you are going to let us have it,” he
laughed. “ We are used to it, Mr. Malone. We
don’t mind. But you will see the turn some day.
These articles may rise up in judgment.”
“ I will treat it fairly, I assure you.”
“ Well, we ask no more.”
The medium was leaning with her elbow on the
mantelpiece, austere and aloof.
“ I am afraid you are tired,” said Enid.
IN STRANGE COMPANY
39
“ No, young lady, I am never tired in doing the
work of the spirit people. They see to that.”
“ May I ask,” Malone ventured, “ whether you ever
knew Professor Summerlee ? ”
The medium shook her head.
“No, sir, no. They always think I know them. I
know none of them. They come and I describe them.”
“ How do you get the message ? ”
“ Clairaudient. I hear it. I hear them all the time.
The poor things all want to come through and they
pluck at me and pull me and pester me on the plat¬
form. ‘ Me next — me — me ! ’ That’s what I hear.
I do my best, but I can’t handle them all.”
“ Can you tell me anything of that prophetic per¬
son ? ” asked Malone of the chairman. Mr. Bolsover
shrugged his shoulders with a deprecating smile.
“ He is an Independent. We see him now and
again as a sort of comet passing across us. By the way,
it comes back to me that he prophesied the war.
I’m a practical man myself. Sufficient for the day is
the evil thereof. We get plenty in ready cash without
any bills for the future. Well, good night ! Treat us
as well as you can.”
“ Good night, ” said Enid.
“ Good night,” said Mrs. Debbs. “ By the way,
young lady, you are a medium yourself. Good
night ! ”
And so they found themselves in the street once
more inhaling long draughts of the night air. It was
sweet after that crowded hall. A minute later they
were in the rush of the Edgware Road and Malone
had hailed a cab to carry them back to Victoria
Gardens. *
* See Appendix.
CHAPTER III
IN WHICH PROFESSOR CHALLENGER GIVES HIS OPINION
NID had stepped into the cab and Malone was
1 W following when his name was called and a man
came running down the street. He was tall, middle-
aged, handsome and well-dressed, with the clean¬
shaven, self-confident face of the successful surgeon.
“Hullo, Malone ! Stop!”
“ Why, it’s Atkinson. Enid, let me introduce you.
This is Mr. Atkinson of St. Mary’s about whom I
spoke to your father. Can we give you a lift ? We
are going towards Victoria.”
“ Capital ! ” The surgeon followed them into the
cab. “ I was amazed to see you at a Spiritualist
meeting.”
“ We were only there professionally. Miss Chal¬
lenger and I are both on the Press.”
“ Oh, really ! The Daily Gazette , I suppose, as
before. Well, you will have one more subscriber, for
I shall want to see what you made of to-night’s show.”
“ You’ll have to wait till next Sunday. It is one of
a series.”
“ Oh, I say, I can’t wait as long as that. What
did you make of it ? ”
“ I really don’t know. I shall have to read my notes
carefully to-morrow and think it over, and compare
impressions with my colleague here. She has the
intuition, you see, which goes for so much in religious
matters.”
40
THE PROFESSOR’S OPINION
41
“ And what is your intuition, Miss Challenger ? ”
“ Good — oh, yes, good ! But, dear me, what an
extraordinary mixture ! ”
“ Yes, indeed, I have been several times and it
always leaves the same mixed impression upon my own
mind. Some of it is ludicrous, and some of it might be
dishonest, and yet again some of it is clearly wonder¬
ful.”
“ But you are not on the Press. Why were you
there ? ”
“ Because I am deeply interested. You see, I am
a student of psychic matters and have been for some
years. I am not a convinced one but I am sympathetic,
and I have sufficient sense of proportion to realise that
while I seem to be sitting in judgment upon the subject
it may in truth be the subject which is sitting in judg¬
ment upon me.”
Malone nodded appreciation.
“ It is enormous. You will realise that as you get
to close grips with it. It is half a dozen great subjects
in one. And it is all in the hands of these good humble
folk who, in the face of every discouragement and
personal loss, have carried it on for more than seventy
years. It is really very like the rise of Christianity.
It was run by slaves and underlings until it gradually
extended upwards. There were three hundred years
between Csesar’s slave and Cnesar getting the light.”
“ But the preacher ! ” cried Enid in protest.
Mr. Atkinson laughed.
“ You mean our friend from Atlantis. What a
terrible bore the fellow was ! I confess I don’t know
what to make of performances like that. Self-decep¬
tion, I think, and the temporary emergence of some
fresh strand of personality which dramatises itself in
this way. The only thing I am quite sure of is that it
42
THE LAND OF MIST
is not really an inhabitant of Atlantis who arrives
from his long voyage with this awful cargo of
platitudes. Well, here we are ! ”
“ I have to deliver this young lady safe and sound
to her father,” said Malone. “ Look here, Atkinson,
don’t leave us. The Professor would really like to see
you.”
“ What, at this hour ! Why, he would throw me
down the stairs.”
“ You’ve been hearing stories,” said Enid. “ Really
it is not so bad as that. Some people annoy him, but
I am sure you are not one of them. Won’t you chance
it ?”
“ With that encouragement, certainly.” And the
three walked down the bright outer corridor to the
lift.
Challenger, clad now in a brilliant blue dressing-
gown, was eagerly awaiting them. He eyed Atkinson
as a fighting bulldog eyes some canine stranger. The
inspection seemed to satisfy him, however, for he
growled that he was glad to meet him.
“ I’ve heard of your name, sir, and of your rising
reputation. Your resection of the cord last year made
some stir, I understand. But have you been down
among the lunatics also ? ”
“Well, if you call them so,” said Atkinson with a
laugh.
“ Good Heavens, what else could I call them ? I
remember now that my young friend here” (Chal¬
lenger had a way of alluding to Malone as if he were
a promising boy of ten) “ told me you were studying
the subject.” He roared with offensive laughter.
“ ‘ The proper study of mankind is spooks,’ eh, Mr.
Atkinson ? ”
“ Dad really knows nothing about it, so don’t be
THE PROFESSOR’S OPINION
43
offended with him,” said Enid. “ But I assure you,
Dad, you would have been interested.” She proceeded
lo give a sketch of their adventures, though inter¬
rupted by a running commentary of groans, grunts and
derisive jeers. It was only when the Summerlee
episode was reached that Challenger’s indignation and
contempt could no longer be restrained. The old
volcano blew his head off and a torrent of red-hot in¬
vective descended upon his listeners.
“ The blasphemous rascals ! ” he shouted. “ To
think that they can’t let poor old Summerlee rest in
his grave. We had our differences in his time and I
will admit that I was compelled to take a moderate
view of his intelligence, but if he came back from the
grave he would certainly have something worth hear¬
ing to say to us. It is an absurdity — a wicked, inde¬
cent absurdity upon the face of it. I object to any
friend of mine being made a puppet for the laughter
of an audience of fools. They didn’t laugh ! They
must have laughed when they heard an educated man,
a man whom I have met upon equal terms, talking such
nonsense. I say it was nonsense. Don’t contradict
me, Malone. I won’t have it ! His message might
have been the postscript of a schoolgirl’s letter. Isn’t
that nonsense, coming from such a source ? Are you
not in agreement, Mr. Atkinson ? No ! I had hoped
better things from you.”
“ But the descriptions ? ”
“ Good Heavens, where are your brains ? Have not
the names of Summerlee and Malone been associated
with my own in some peculiarly feeble fiction which
attained some notoriety ? Is it not also known that
you two innocents were doing the Churches week by
week ? Was it not patent that sooner or later you
would come to a Spiritualist gathering ? Here was a
44
THE LAND OF MIST
chance for a convert ! They set a bait and poor old
gudgeon Malone came along and swallowed it. Here
he is with the hook still stuck in his silly mouth. Oh,
yes, Malone, plain speaking is needed and you shall
have it.” The Professor’s black mane was bristling
and his eyes glaring from one member of the company
to another.
“ Well, we want every view expressed,” said Atkin¬
son. “ You seem very qualified, sir, to express the
negative one. At the same time I would repeat in
my own person the words of Thackeray. He said to
some objector: ‘What you say is natural, but if you
had seen what I have seen you might alter your opin¬
ion.’ Perhaps some time you will be able to look into
the matter, for your high position in the scientific
world would give your opinion great weight.”
“ If I have a high place in the scientific world as you
say, it is because I have concentrated upon what is
useful and discarded what is nebulous or absurd. My
brain, sir, does not pare the edges. It cuts right
through. It has cut right through this and has found
fraud and folly.”
“ Both are there at times,” said Atkinson, “ and
yet . . . and yet ! Ah, well, Malone, I’m some
way from home and it is late. You will excuse me,
Professor. I am honoured to have met you.”
Malone was leaving also and the two friends had a
few minutes’ chat before they went their separate
ways, Atkinson to Wimpole Street and Malone to
South Norwood, where he was now living.
“ Grand old fellow ! ” said Malone, chuckling.
“ You must never get offended with him. He means
no harm. He is splendid.”
“ Of course he is. But if anything could make me
a real out-and-out Spiritualist it is that sort of in-
THE PROFESSOR’S OPINION
45
tolerance. It is very common, though it is generally
cast rather in the tone of the quiet sneer than of the
noisy roar. I like the latter best. By the way,
Malone, if you care to go deeper into this subject I
may be able to help you. You’ve heard of Linden ? ”
“ Linden, the professional medium. Yes, I’ve been
told he is the greatest blackguard unhung.”
“ Ah, well, they usually talk of them like that. You
must judge for yourself. He put his knee-cap out last
winter and I put it in again, and that has made a
friendly bond between us. It’s not always easy to get
him, and of course a small fee, a guinea I think, is
usual, but if you wanted a sitting I could work it.”
“ You think him genuine ? ”
Atkinson shrugged his shoulders.
“ I daresay they all take the line of least resistance.
I can only say that I have never detected him in fraud.
You must judge for yourself.”
“ I will,” said Malone. “ I am getting hot on this
trail. And there is copy in it, too. When things are
more easy I’ll write to you, Atkinson, and we can go
more deeply into the matter.”
CHAPTER IV
WHICH DESCRIBES SOME STRANGE DOINGS IN
HAMMERSMITH
THE article by the Joint Commissioners (such was
their glorious title) aroused interest and conten¬
tion. It had been accompanied by a depreciating
leaderette from the sub-editor which was meant to
calm the susceptibilities of his orthodox readers, as
who should say; “ These things have to be noticed and
seem to be true, but of course you and I recognise how
pestilential it all is.” Malone found himself at once
plunged into a huge correspondence, for and against,
which in itself was enough to show how vitally the
question was in the minds of men. All the previous
articles had only elicited a growl here or there from
a hide-bound Catholic or from an iron-clad Evangel¬
ical, but now his post-bag was full. Most of them
were ridiculing the idea that psychic forces existed and
many were from writers who, whatever they might
know of psychic forces, had obviously not yet learned
to spell. The Spiritualists were in many cases not
more pleased than the others, for Malone had — even
while his account was true — exercised a journalist’s
privilege of laying an accent on the more humorous
sides of it.
One morning in the succeeding week Mr. Malone
was aware of a large presence in the small room
wherein he did his work at the office. A page-boy,
who preceded the stout visitor, had laid a card on the
46
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
47
corner of the table which bore the legend ‘James Bol-
sover, Provision Merchant, High Street, Hammer¬
smith.’ It was none other than the genial president
of last Sunday’s congregation. He wagged a paper
accusingly at Malone, but his good-humoured face was
wreathed in smiles.
“ Well, well,” said he. “ I told you that the funny
side would get you.”
“ Don’t you think it a fair account ? ”
“ Well, yes, Mr. Malone, I think you and the young
woman have done your best for us. But, of course,
you know nothing and it all seems queer to you. Come
to think of it, it would be a deal queerer if all the
clever men who leave this earth could not among them
find some way of getting a word back to us.”
“ But it’s such a stupid word sometimes.”
“ Well, there are a lot of stupid people leave the
world. They don’t change. And then, you know, one
never knows what sort of message is needed. We had
a clergyman in to see Mrs. Debbs yesterday. He was
broken-hearted because he had lost his daughter.
Mrs. Debbs got several messages through that she
was happy and that only his grief hurt her. ‘ That’s
no use,’ said he. ‘ Anyone could say that. That’s not
my girl.’ And then suddenly she said: ‘ But I wish to
goodness you would not wear a Roman collar with a
coloured shirt.’ That sounded a trivial message, but
the man began to cry. ‘ That’s her,’ he sobbed. ‘ She
was always chipping me about my collars.’ It’s the
little things that count in this life — just the homely,
intimate things, Mr. Malone.”
Malone shook his head.
“ Anyone would remark on a coloured shirt and a
clerical collar.”
Mr. Bolsover laughed. “ You’re a hard proposi-
48
THE LAND OF MIST
tion. So was I once, so I can’t blame you. But I called
here with a purpose. I expect you are a busy man and
I know that I am, so I’ll get down to the brass tacks.
First, I wanted to say that all our people that have
any sense are pleased with the article. Mr. Algernon
Mailey wrote me that it would do good, and if he is
pleased we are all pleased.”
“ Mailey the barrister ? ”
“ Mailey, the religious reformer. That’s how he
will fee known.”
“ Well, what else ? ”
“Only that we would help you if you and the young
lady wanted to go further in the matter. Not for
publicity, mind you, but just for your own good —
though we don’t shrink from publicity, either. I have
physical phenomena seances at my own home without
a professional medium, and if you would like . .
“ There’s nothing I would like so much.”
“ Then you shall come — both of you. I don’t have
many outsiders. I wouldn’t have one of those psychic
research people inside my doors. Why should I go
out of my way to be insulted by all their suspicions
and their traps ? They seem to think that folk have
no feelings. But you have some ordinary common
sense. That’s all we ask.”
“ But I don’t believe. Would that not stand in
the way ? ”
“ Not in the least. So long as you are fair-minded
and don’t disturb the conditions, all is well. Spirits
out of the body don’t like disagreeable people any
more than spirits in the body do. Be gentle and civil,
same as you would to any other company.”
“ Well, I can promise that.”
“ They are funny sometimes,” said Mr. Bolsover, in
reminiscent vein. “ It is as well to keep on the right
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
49
side of them. They are not allowed to hurt humans,
but we all do things we’re not allowed to do, and they
are very human themselves. You remember how The
Times correspondent got his head cut open with the
tambourine in one of the Davenport Brothers’ seances.
Very wrong, of course, but it happened. No friend
ever got his head cut open. There was another case
down Stepney way. A money-lender went to a seance.
Some victim that he had driven to suicide got into the
medium. He got the money-lender by the throaTand
it was a close thing for his life. But I’m off, Mr.
Malone. We sit once a week and have done for four
years without a break. Eight o’clock Thursdays.
Give us a day’s notice and I’ll get Mr. Mailey to meet
you. He can answer questions better than I. Next
Thursday ! Very good.” And Mr. Bolsover lurched
out of the room.
Both Malone and Enid Challenger had, perhaps,
been more shaken by their short experience than they
had admitted, but both were sensible people who
agreed that every possible natural cause should be ex¬
hausted — and very thoroughly exhausted — before the
bounds of what is possible should be enlarged. Both
of them had the utmost respect for the ponderous
intellect of Challenger and were affected by his strong
views, though Malone was compelled to admit in the
frequent arguments in which he was plunged that the
opinion of a clever man who has had no experience
is really of less value than that of the man in the
street who has actually been there.
These arguments, as often as not, were with Mer-
vin, editor of the psychic paper Dawn, which dealt
with every phase of the occult, from the lore of the
Rosicrucians to the strange regions of the students of
the Great Pyramid, or of those who uphold the Jewish
so
THE LAND OF MIST
origin of our blonde Anglo-Saxons. Mervin was a
small, eager man with a brain of a high order, which
might have carried him to the most lucrative heights
of his profession had he not determined to sacrifice
worldly prospects in order to help what seemed to
him to be a great truth. As Malone was eager for
knowledge and Mervin was equally keen to impart it,
the waiters at the Literary Club found it no easy
matter to get them away from the corner-table in the
window at which they were wont to lunch. Looking
down at the long, grey curve of the Embankment and
the noble river with its vista of bridges, the pair would
linger over their coffee, smoking cigarettes and discuss¬
ing various sides of this most gigantic and absorbing
subject, which seemed already to have disclosed new
horizons to the mind of Malone.
There was one warning given by Mervin which
aroused impatience amounting almost to anger in
Malone’s mind. He had the hereditary Irish objection
to coercion and it seemed to him to be appearing once
more in an insidious and particularly objectionable
form.
“ You are going to one of Bolsover’s family
seances,” said Mervin. “They are, of course, well
known among our people, though few have been
actually admitted, so you may consider yourself
privileged. He has clearly taken a fancy to you.”
“ He thought I wrote fairly about them.”
“ Well, it wasn’t much of an article, but still among
the dreary, purblind nonsense that assails us, it did
show some traces of dignity and balance and sense
of proportion.”
Malone waved a deprecating cigarette.
“ Bolsover seances and others like them are, of
course, things of no moment to the real psychic. They
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
51
are like the rude foundations of a building which cer¬
tainly help to sustain the edifice, but are forgotten
when once you come to inhabit it. It is the higher
superstructure with which we have to do. You would
think that the physical phenomena were the whole sub¬
ject — those and a fringe of ghosts and haunted houses
— if you were to believe the cheap papers who cater
for the sensationalist. Of course, these physical
phenomena have a use of their own. They rivet the
attention of the inquirer and encourage him to go
further. Personally, having seen them all, I would not
go across the road to see them again. But I would
go across many roads to get high messages from the
beyond.”
“ Yes, I quite appreciate the distinction, looking at
it from your point of view. Personally, of course, I
am equally agnostic as to the messages and the phe¬
nomena.”
“ Quite so. St. Paul was a good psychic. He
makes the point so neatly that even his ignorant
translators were unable to disguise the real occult
meanings as they have succeeded in doing in so many
cases.”
“ Can you quote it ? ”
“ I know my New Testament pretty well, but I am
not letter-perfect. It is the passage where he says
that the gift of tongues, which was an obvious sensa¬
tional thing, was for the uninstructed, but that proph¬
ecies, that is real spiritual messages, were for the
elect. In other words that an experienced Spiritualist
has no need of phenomena.”
“ I’ll look that passage up.”
“ You will find it in Corinthians, I think. By the
way, there must have been a pretty high average of
intelligence among those old congregations if Paul s
52
THE LAND OF MIST
letters could have been read aloud to them and
thoroughly comprehended.”
“ That is generally admitted, is it not ? ”
“ Well, it is a concrete example of it. However, I
am down a side-track. What I wanted to say to you
is that you must not take Bolsover’s little spirit circus
too seriously. It is honest as far as it goes, but it goes
a mighty short way. It’s a disease, this phenomena
hunting. I know some of our people, women mostly,
who buzz around seance rooms continually, seeing the
same thing over and over, sometimes real, sometimes,
I fear, imitation. What the better are they for that as
souls or as citizens or any other way ? No, when your
foot is firm on the bottom rung don’t mark time on it,
but step up to the next rung and get firm upon that.”
“ I quite get your point. But I’m still on the solid
ground.”
“ Solid ! ” cried Mervin. “ Good Lord ! But the
paper goes to press to-day and I must get down to the
printer. With a circulation of ten thousand or so we
do things modestly, you know — not like you plutocrats
of the daily press. I am practically the staff.”
“ You said you had a warning.”
“ Yes, yes, I wanted to give you a warning.” Mer-
vin’s thin, eager face became intensely serious. “ If
you have any ingrained religious or other prejudices
which may cause you to turn down this subject after
you have investigated it, then don’t investigate at all
— for it is dangerous.”
“ What do you mean — dangerous ? ”
“ They don’t mind honest doubt, or honest criticism,
but if they are badly treated they are dangerous.”
“ Who are ‘ they ’ ? ”
“ Ah, who are they ? I wonder. Guides, controls,
psychic entities of some kind. Who the agents of
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
53
vengeance — or I should say justice — are, is really not
essential. The point is that they exist.”
“ Oh, rot, Mervin ! ”
“ Don’t be too sure of that.”
“ Pernicious rot ! These are the old theological
bogies of the Middle Ages coming up again. I am
surprised at a sensible man like you ! ”
Mervin smiled — he had a whimsical smile — but his
eyes, looking out from under bushy yellow brows,
were as serious as ever.
“ You may come to change your opinion. There
are some queer sides to this question. As a friend I
put you wise to this one.”
“ Well, put me wise, then.”
Thus encouraged, Mervin went into the matter.
He rapidly sketched the career and fate of a number
of men who had, in his opinion, played an unfair game
with these forces, become an obstruction, and suffered
for it. He spoke of judges who had given prejudiced
decisions against the cause, of journalists who had
worked up stunt cases for sensational purposes and to
throw discredit on the movement; of others who had
interviewed mediums to make game of them, or who,
having started to investigate, had drawn back alarmed,
and given a negative decision when their inner soul
knew that the facts were true. It was a formidable
list, for it was long and precise, but Malone was not to
be driven.
“ If you pick your cases I have no doubt one could
make such a list about any subject. Mr. Jones said
that Raphael was a bungler, and Mr. Jones died of
angina pectoris. Therefore it is dangerous to criti¬
cise Raphael. That seems to be the argument.”
“ Well, if you like to think so.”
“ Take the other side. Look at Morgate. He has
54
THE LAND OF MIST
always been an enemy, for he is a convinced materi¬
alist. But he prospers — look at his professorship. ”
“Ah, an honest doubter. Certainly. Why not ? ”
“ And Morgan who at one time exposed mediums.”
“ If they were really false he did good service.”
“And Falconer who has written so bitterly about
you ? ”
“ Ah, Falconer ! Do you know anything of Fal¬
coner’s private life ? No. Well, take it from me he
has got his dues. He doesn’t know why. Some
day these gentlemen will begin to compare notes and
then it may dawn on them. But they get it.”
He went on to tell a horrible story of one who had
devoted his considerable talents to picking Spiritual¬
ism to pieces though really convinced of its truth,
because his worldly ends were served thereby. The
end was ghastly — too ghastly for Malone.
“ Oh, cut it out, Mervin ! ” he cried impatiently.
“ I’ll say what I think, no more and no less, and I
won’t be scared by you or your spooks into altering
my opinions.”
“ I never asked you to.”
“ You got a bit near it. What you have said strikes
me as pure superstition. If what you say is true you
should have the police after you.”
“ Yes, if we did it. But it is out of our hands.
However, Malone, for what it’s worth I have given
you the warning and you can now go your way. Bye-
bye ! You can always ring me up at the office of
Dawn ”
If you want to know if a man is of the true Irish
blood there is one infallible test. Put him in front of
a swing-door with “ Push ” or “ Pull ” printed upon it.
The Englishman will obey like a sensible man. The
Irishman, with less sense but more individuality, will
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
55
at once and with vehemence do the opposite. So it
was with Malone. Mervin’s well-meant warning
simply raised a rebellious spirit within him, and when
he called for Enid to take her to the Bolsover seance
he had gone back several degrees in his dawning
sympathy for the subject. Challenger bade them fare¬
well with many gibes, his beard projecting forward
and his eyes closed with upraised eyebrows, as was his
wont when inclined to be facetious.
“ You have your powder-bag, my dear Enid. If
you see a particularly good specimen of ectoplasm in
the course of the evening don’t forget your father.
I have a microscope, chemical reagents and everything
ready. Perhaps even a small poltergeist might come
your way. Any trifle would be welcome.”
His bull’s bellow of laughter followed them into the
lift.
The provision merchant’s establishment of Mr.
Bolsover proved to be a euphemism for an old-
fashioned grocer’s shop, in the most crowded part of
Hammersmith. The neighbouring church was chim¬
ing out the three-quarters as the taxi drove up, and
the shop was full of people, so Enid and Malone
walked up and down outside. As they were so en¬
gaged another taxi drove up and a large, untidy-look¬
ing, ungainly bearded man in a suit of Harris tweed
stepped out of it. He glanced at his watch and then
began to pace the pavement. Presently he noted the
others and came up to them.
“ May I ask if you are the journalists who are going
to attend the seance ? . I thought so.
Old Bolsover is terribly busy so you were wise to wait.
Bless him, he is one of God’s saints in his way.”
“ You are Mr. Algernon Mailey, I presume ? ”
“ Yes. I am the gentleman whose credulity is giv-
56
THE LAND OF MIST
ing rise to considerable anxiety upon the part of my
friends, as one of the rags remarked the other day.”
His laugh was so infectious that the others were bound
to laugh also. Certainly, with his athletic propor¬
tions, which had run a little to seed but were still
notable, and with his virile voice and strong if homely
face, he gave no impression of instability.
“ We are all labelled with some stigma by our oppo¬
nents,” said he. “ I wonder what yours will be.”
“We must not sail under false colours, Mr.*
Mailey,” said Enid. “ We are not yet among the be¬
lievers.”
“ Quite right. You should take your time over it.
It is infinitely the most important thing in the world,
so it is worth taking time over. I took many years
myself. Folk can be blamed for neglecting it, but no
one can be blamed for being cautious in examination.
Now I am all out for it, as you are aware, because I
know it is true. There is such a difference between
believing and knowing. I lecture a good deal. But I
never want to convert my audience. I don’t believe
in sudden conversions. They are shallow, superficial
things. All I want is to put the thing before the peo¬
ple as clearly as I can. I just tell them the truth and
why we know it is the truth. Then my job is done.
They can take it or leave it. If they are wise they
will explore along the paths that I indicate. If they
are unwise they miss their chance. I don’t want to
press them or to proselytise. It’s their affair, not
mine.”
“ Well, that seems a reasonable view,” said Enid,
who was attracted by the frank manner of their new
acquaintance. They were standing now in the full
flood of light cast by Bolsover’s big plate-glass win¬
dow. She had a good look at him, his broad forehead,
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
57
his curious grey eyes, thoughtful and yet eager, his
straw-coloured beard which indicated the outline of an
aggressive chin. He was solidity personified — the very
opposite of the fanatic whom she had imagined. His
name had been a good deal in the papers lately as a
protagonist in the long battle, and she remembered
that it had never been mentioned without an answer¬
ing snort from her father.
“ I wonder,” she said to Malone, “ what would
happen if Mr. Mailey were locked up in a room with
Dad ! ”
Malone laughed. “ There used to be a schoolboy
question as to what would occur if an irresistible force
were to strike an invincible obstacle.”
“ Oh, you are the daughter of Professor Chal¬
lenger,” said Mailey with interest. “ He is a big
figure in the scientific world. What a grand world it
would be if it would only realise its own limitations.”
“ I don’t quite follow you.”
“ It is this scientific world which is at the bottom of
much of our materialism. It has helped us in comfort
— if comfort is any use to us. Otherwise it has usually
been a curse to us, for it has called itself progress
and given us a false impression that we are making
progress, whereas we are really drifting very steadily
backwards.”
“ Really I can’t quite agree with you there, Mr.
Mailey,” said Malone, who was getting restive under
what seemed to him dogmatic assertion. “ Look at
wireless. Look at the S.O.S. call at sea. Is that not
a benefit to mankind ? ”
“ Oh, it works out all right sometimes. I value my
electric reading-lamp, and that is a product of science.
It gives us, as I said before, comfort and occasionally
safety.”
58
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Why, then, do you depreciate it ? ”
“ Because it obscures the vital thing — the object of
life. We were not put into this planet in order that
we should go fifty miles an hour in a motor-car, or cross
the Atlantic in an airship, or send messages either with
or without wires. These are the mere trimmings and
fringes of life. But these men of science have so
riveted our attention on these fringes that we forget
the central object.”
“ I don’t follow you.”
“ It is not how fast you go that matters, it is the
object of your journey. It is not how you send a
message, it is what the value of the message may be.
At every stage this so-called progress may be a curse,
and yet as long as we use the word we confuse it with
real progress and imagine that we are doing that for
which God sent us into the world.”
“ Which is ? ”
“ To prepare ourselves for the next phase of life.
There is mental preparation and spiritual prepara¬
tion, and we are neglecting both. To be in old age
better men and women, more unselfish, more broad¬
minded, more genial and tolerant, that is what we are
for. It is a soul factory and it is turning out a bad
article. But - Hullo ! ” he burst into his infectious
laugh. “ Here I am delivering my lecture in the street.
Force of habit, you see. My son says that if you press
the third button of my waistcoat I automatically de¬
liver a lecture. But here is the good Bolsover to your
rescue.”
The worthy grocer had caught sight of them
through the window and came bustling out, untying his
white apron.
“ Good evening, all ! I won’t have you waiting in
the cold. Besides there’s the clock, and time’s up.
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
59
It does not do to keep them waiting. Punctuality for
all — that’s my motto and theirs. My lads will shut
up the shop. This way, and mind the sugar-barrel.”
They threaded their way amid boxes of dried fruits
and piles of cheese, finally passing between two great
casks which hardly left room for the grocer’s portly
form. A narrow door beyond opened into the resi¬
dential part of the establishment. Ascending the nar¬
row stair, Bolsover threw open a door and the visitors
found themselves in a considerable room in which a
number of people were seated round a large table.
There was Mrs. Bolsover herself, large, cheerful and
buxom like her husband. Three daughters were all of
the same pleasing type. There was an elderly woman
who seemed to be some relation, and two other col¬
ourless females who were described as neighbours and
Spiritualists. The only other man was a little grey¬
headed fellow with a pleasant face and quick, twin¬
kling eyes, who sat at a harmonium in the corner.
“ Mr. Smiley, our musician,” said Bolsover. “ I
don’t know what we could do without Mr. Smiley.
It’s vibrations, you know. Mr. Mailey could tell you
about that. Ladies, you know Mr. Mailey, our very
good friend. And these are two enquirers — Miss
Challenger and Mr. Malone.”
The Bolsover family all smiled genially, but the
nondescript elderly person rose to her feet and sur¬
veyed them with an austere face.
“ You’re very welcome here, you two strangers,”
she said. “ But we would say to you that we want
outward reverence. We respect the shining ones and
we will not have them insulted.”
“ I assure you we are very earnest and fairminded,”
said Malone.
60
THE LAND OF MIST
“ We’ve had our lesson. We haven’t forgotten the
Meadows’ affair, Mr. Bolsover.”
“ No, no, Mrs. Seldon. That won’t happen again.
We were rather upset over that,” Bolsover added,
turning to the visitors. “ That man came here as our
guest, and when the lights were out he poked the
other sitters with his finger so as to make them think
it was a spirit hand. Then he wrote the whole thing
up as an exposure in the public Press, when the only
fraudulent thing present had been himself.”
Malone was honestly shocked. “ I can assure you
we are incapable of such conduct.”
The old lady sat down, but still regarded them with
a suspicious eye. Bolsover bustled about and got
things ready.
“ You sit here, Mr. Mailey. Mr. Malone, will you
sit between my wife and my daughter ? Where would
the young lady like to sit ? ”
Enid was feeling rather nervous. “ I think,” said
she, “ that I would like to sit next Mr. Malone.”
Bolsover chuckled and winked at his wife.
“ Quite so. Most natural, I am sure.” They all
settled into their places. Mr. Bolsover had switched
off the electric light, but a candle burned in the middle
of the table. Malone thought what a picture it would
have made for a Rembrandt. Deep shadows draped it
in, but the yellow light flickered upon the circle of
faces — the strong, homely, heavy features of Bol¬
sover, the solid line of his family circle, the sharp,
austere countenance of Mrs. Seldon, the earnest eyes
and yellow beard of Mailey, the worn, tired faces of
the two Spiritualist women, and finally the firm, noble
profile of the girl who sat beside him. The whole
world had suddenly narrowed down to that one little
group, so intensely concentrated upon its own purpose.
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
61
On the table there was scattered a curious collection
of objects, which had all the same appearance of tools
which had long been used. There was a battered
brass speaking-trumpet, very discoloured, a tam¬
bourine, a musical-box, and a number of smaller ob¬
jects. “ We never know what they may want,” said
Bolsover, waving his hand over them. “ If Wee One
calls for a thing and it isn’t there she lets us know
about it — oh, yes, something shocking ! ”
“ She has a temper of her own has Wee One,”
remarked Mrs. Bolsover.
“ Why not, the pretty dear ? ” said the austere
lady. “ I expect she has enough to try it with re¬
searchers and what-not. I often wonder she troubles
to come at all.”
“ Wee One is our little girl guide,” said Bolsover.
“ You’ll hear her presently.”
“ I do hope she will come,” said Enid.
“ Well, she never failed us yet, except when that
man Meadows clawed hold of the trumpet and put it
outside the circle.”
“Who is the medium ? ” asked Malone.
“ Well, we don’t know ourselves. We all help, I
think. Maybe I give as much as anyone. And
mother, she is a help.”
“ Our family is a co-operative store,” said his wife,
and everyone laughed.
“ I thought one medium was necessary.”
“ It is usual but not necessary,” said Mailey in his
deep, authoritative voice. “ Crawford showed that
pretty clearly in the Gallagher seances when he proved,
by weighing chairs, that everyone in the circle lost
from half to two pounds at a sitting, though the
medium, Miss Kathleen, lost as many as ten or twelve.
62
THE LAND OF MIST
Here the long series of sittings - How long, Mr.
Bolsover ? ”
“ Four years unbroken.”
“ The long series has developed everyone to some
extent, so that there is a high average output from
each, instead of an extraordinary amount from one.”
“ Output of what ? ”
“ Animal magnetism, ectoplasm — in fact, power.
That is the most comprehensive word. The Christ
used that word. ‘ Much power has gone out of me.’
It is ‘ dunamis ’ in the Greek, but the translators
missed the point and translated it ‘ virtue.’ If a good
Greek scholar who was also a profound occult student
were to re-translate the New Testament, we should get
some eye-openers. Dear old Ellis Powell did a little
in that direction. His death was a loss to the world.”
“ Aye, indeed,” said Bolsover in a reverent voice.
“ But now, before we get to work, Mr. Malone, I
want you just to note one or two things. You see the
white spots on the trumpet and the tambourine ?
Those are luminous points so that we can see where
they are. The table is just our dining-table, good
British oak. You can examine it if you like. But
you’ll see things that won’t depend upon the table.
Now, Mr. Smiley, out goes the light and we’ll ask
you for ‘ Rock of Ages.’ ”
The harmonium droned in the darkness and the
circle sang. They sang very tunefully, too, for the
girls had fresh voices and true ears. Low and vibrant,
the solemn rhythm became most impressive when no
sense but that of hearing was free to act. Their
hands, according to instructions, were laid lightly upon
the table, and they were warned not to cross their
legs. Malone, with his hand touching Enid’s, could
feel the little quiverings which showed that her nerves
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
63
were highly strung. The homely, jovial voice of Bol-
sover relieved the tension.
“ That should do it,” he said. “ I feel as if the
conditions were good to-night. Just a touch of frost
in the air, too. I’ll ask you now to join with me in
prayer.”
It was effective, that simple, earnest prayer in the
darkness — an inky darkness which was only broken
by the last red glow of a dying fire.
“ Oh, great Father of us all,” said the voice. “ You
who are beyond our thoughts and who yet pervade our
lives, grant that all evil may be kept from us this
night and that we may be privileged to get in touch,
if only for an hour, with those who dwell upon a
higher plane than ours. You are our Father as well
as theirs. Permit us, for a short space, to meet in
brotherhood, that we may have an added knowledge
of that eternal life which awaits us, and so be helped
during our years of waiting in this lower world.” He
ended with the “ Our Father,” in which all joined.
Then they sat in expectant silence. Outside was the
dull roar of traffic and the occasional ill-tempered
squawk of a passing car. Inside there was absolute
stillness. Enid and Malone felt every sense upon the
alert and every nerve on edge as they gazed out into
the gloom.
“ Nothing doing, Mother,” said Bolsover at last.
“ It’s the strange company. New vibrations. They
have to tune them in to get harmony. Give us another
tune, Mr. Smiley.”
Again the harmonium droned. It was still playing
when a woman’s voice cried: “ Stop ! Stop ! They
are here ! ”
Again they waited without result.
64
THE LAND OF MIST
“Yes ! Yes ! I heard Wee One. She is here,
right enough. I’m sure of it.”
Silence again, and then it came — such a marvel to
the visitors, such a matter of course to the circle.
“ Gooda evenin’ ! ” cried a voice.
There was a burst of greeting and of welcoming
laughter from the circle. They were all speaking at
once. “ Good evening, Wee One ! ” “ There you
are, dear ! ” “I knew you would come ! ” “ Well
done, little girl guide ! ”
“Gooda evenin’, all !” replied the voice. “Wee
One so glad see Daddy and Mummy and the rest. Oh,
what a big man with beard ! Mailey, Mister Mailey,
I meet him before. He big Mailey, I little femaley.
Glad see you, Mr. Big Man.’’
Enid and Malone listened with amazement, but it
was impossible to be nervous in face of the perfectly
natural way in which the company accepted it. The
voice was very thin and high — more so than any arti¬
ficial falsetto could produce. It was the voice of a
female child. That was certain. Also that there was
no female child in the room unless one had been
smuggled in after the light went out. That was
possible. But the voice seemed to be in the middle of
the table. How could a child get there ?
“ Easy get there, Mr. Gentleman,” said the voice,
answering his unspoken thought. “Daddy strong
man. Daddy lift Wee One on to table. Now I show
what Daddy not able to do.”
“ The trumpet’s up ! ” cried Bolsover.
The little circle of luminous paint rose noiselessly
into the air. Now it was swaying above their heads.
“ Go up and hit the ceiling ! ” cried Bolsover.
Up it went and they heard the metallic tapping
above them. Then the high voice came from above :
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
65
“ Clever Daddy ! Daddy got fishing-rod and put
trumpet up to ceiling. But how Daddy make the
voice, eh ? What you say, pretty English Missy ?
Here is present from Wee One.”
Something soft dropped on Enid’s lap. She put her
hand down and felt it.
“ It’s a flower — a chrysanthemum. Thank you,
Wee One ! ”
“ An apport ? ” asked Mailey.
“ No, no, Mr. Mailey,” said Bolsover. “ They
were in the vase on the harmonium. Speak to her,
Miss Challenger. Keep the vibrations going.”
“ Who are you, Wee One ? ” asked Enid, looking
up at the moving spot above her.
“ I am little black girl. Eight-year-old little black
girl.”
“ Oh, come, dear,” said mother in her rich, coaxing
voice. “ You were eight when you came to us first,
and that was years ago.”
“ Years ago to you. All one time to me. I to do
my job as eight-year child. When job done then Wee
One become Big One all in one day. No time here,
same as you have. I always eight year old.”
“ In the ordinary way they grow up exactly as we
do here,” said Mailey. “ But if they have a special bit
of work for which a child is needed, then as a child
they remain. It’s a sort of arrested development.”
“ That’s me. ‘ Rested envelopment,’ said the voice
proudly. “ I learn good English when big man here.”
They all laughed. It was the most genial, free-and-
easy association possible. Malone heard Enid’s voice
whispering in his ear.
“ Pinch me from time to time, Edward — just to
make me sure that I am not in a dream.”
“ I have to pinch myself, too.”
66
THE LAND OF MIST
“What about your song, Wee One ?” asked Bol¬
sover.
“ Oh, yes, indeeda ! Wee One sing to you.” She
began some simple song, but faded away in a squeak,
while the trumpet clattered on to the table.
“ Ah, power run down ! ” said Mailey. “ I think a
little more music will set us right. ‘ Lead Kindly
Light,1 Smiley.”
They sang the beautiful hymn together. As the
verse closed an amazing thing happened — amazing,
at least, to the novices, though it called for no remark
from the circle.
The trumpet still shone upon the table, but two
voices, those apparently of a man and a woman
broke out in the air above them and joined very tune¬
fully in the singing. The hymn died away and all was
silence and tense expectancy once more.
It was broken by a deep male voice from the dark¬
ness. It was an educated English voice, well modu¬
lated, a voice which spoke in a fashion to which the
good Bolsover could never attain.
“ Good evening, friends. The power seems good
to-night.”
“ Good evening, Luke. Good evening ! ” cried
everyone. “ It is our teaching guide,” Bolsover ex¬
plained. “ He is a high spirit from the sixth sphere
who gives us instruction.”
“ I may seem high to you,” said the voice. “ But
what am I to those who in turn instruct me ! It is
not my wisdom. Give me no credit. I do but pass it
on.”
“ Always like that,” said Bolsover. “ No swank.
It’s a sign of his height.”
“ I see you have two enquirers present. Good eve¬
ning, young lady 1 You know nothing of your own
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
67
powers or destiny. You will find them out. Good
evening, sir, you are on the threshold of great knowl¬
edge. Is there any subject upon which you would
wish me to say a few words ? I see that you are mak¬
ing notes.”
Malone had, as a fact, disengaged his hand in the
darkness and was jotting down in shorthand the se¬
quence of events.
“ What shall I speak of ? ”
“ Of love and marriage,” suggested Mrs. Bolsover,
nudging her husband.
“ Well, I will say a few words on that. I will not
take long, for others are waiting. The room is
crowded with spirit people. I wish you to understand
that there is one man, and only one, for each woman,
and one woman only for each man. When those two
meet they fly together and are one through all the
endless chain of existence. Until they meet all unions
are mere accidents which have no meaning. Sooner
or later each couple becomes complete. It may not
be here. It may be in the next sphere where the
sexes meet as they do on earth. Or it may be further
delayed. But every man and every woman has his
or her affinity and will find it. Of earthly marriages
perhaps one in five is permanent. The others are
accidental. Real marriage is of the soul and spirit.
Sex actions are a mere external symbol which mean
nothing and are foolish, or even pernicious, when the
thing which they should symbolise is wanting. Am
I clear ? ”
“ Very clear,” said Mailey.
“ Some have the wrong mate here. Some have no
mate, which is more fortunate. But all will sooner or
later get the right mate. That is certain. Do not
68
THE LAND OF MIST
think that you will necessarily have your present hus¬
band when you pass over.”
“ Gawd be praised ! Gawd be thanked ! ” cried a
voice.
“ No. Mrs. Melder, it is love — real love — which
unites us here. He goes his way. You go yours.
You are on separate planes, perhaps. Some day you
will each find your own, when your youth has come
back as it will over here.”
“ You speak of love. Do you mean sexual love ? ”
asked Mailey.
“ Where are we gettin’ to ! ” murmured Mrs. Bol-
sover.
“ Children are not born here. That is only on the
earth plane. It was this aspect of marriage to which
the great Teacher referred when he said: ‘ There will
be neither marriage nor giving in marriage.’ No !
It is purer, deeper, more wonderful, a unity of souls, a
complete merging of interests and knowledge without
a loss of individuality. The nearest you ever get to it
is the first high passion, too beautiful for physical
expression, when two high-souled lovers meet upon
your plane. They find lower expression afterwards,
but they will always in their hearts know that the first
delicate, exquisite soul-union was the more lovely.
So it is with us. Any questions ? ”
“ If a woman loves two men equally, what then ? ”
asked Malone.
“ It seldom happens. She nearly always knows
which is really nearest to her. If she really did so
then it would be a proof that neither was the real
affinity, for he is bound to stand high above all. Of
course, if she . . .”
The voice trailed off and the trumpet fell.
“ Sing ‘ Angels are hoverin’ round ’ ! ” cried Bol-
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
69
sover. “ Smiley, hit that old harmonium. The vibra¬
tions are at zero.”
Another bout of music, another silence, and then a
most dismal voice. Never had Enid heard so sad a
voice. It was like clods on a coffin. At first it was
a deep mutter. Then it was a prayer — a Latin prayer
apparently — for twice the word Domine sounded and
once the word peccavimus. There was an indescribable
air of depression and desolation in the room. “ For
God’s sake, what is it ? ” cried Malone.
The circle was equally puzzled.
“ Some poor chap out of the lower spheres, I think,”
said Bolsover. “ Orthodox folk say we should avoid
them. I say we should hurry up and help them.”
“ Right, Bolsover ! ” said Mailey, with hearty
approval. “ Get on with it, quick ! ”
“ Can we do anything for you, friend ? ”
There was silence.
“ He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand the
conditions. Where is Luke ? He’ll know what to
do.”
“ What is it, friend ? ” asked the pleasant voice of
the guide.
“ There is some poor fellow here. We want to help
him.”
“ Ah ! yes, yes, he has come from the outer dark¬
ness,” said Luke in a sympathetic voice. “ He doesn’t
know. He doesn’t understand. They come over here
with a fixed idea, and when they find the real thing
is quite different from anything they have been taught
by the Churches, they are helpless. Some adapt
themselves and they go on. Others don’t, and they
just wander on unchanging, like this man. He was a
cleric, and a very narrow, bigoted one. This is the
70
THE LAND OF MIST
growth of his own mental seed sown upon earth —
sown in ignorance and reaped in misery.”
“ What is amiss with him ? ”
“ He does not know he is dead. He walks in the
mist. It is all an evil dream to him. He has been
years so. To him it seems an eternity.”
“ Why do you not tell him — instruct him ? ”
“We cannot. We - ”
The trumpet crashed.
“ Music, Smiley, music ! Now the vibrations should
be better.”
“ The higher spirits cannot reach earth-bound folk,”
said Mailey. “ They are in very different zones of
vibration. It is we who are near them and can help
them.”
“ Yes, you ! you ! ” cried the voice of Luke.
“ Mr. Mailey, speak to him. You know how ! ”
The low mutter had broken out again in the same
weary monotone.
“ Friend, I would have a word with you,” said
Mailey in a firm, loud voice. The mutter ceased and
one felt that the invisible presence was straining its at¬
tention. “ Friend, we are so sorry at your condition.
You see us and you wonder why we do not see you.
You have passed on. You are in the other world. But
you do not know it, because it is not as you expected.
You have not been received as you imagined. It is
because you imagined wrong. Understand that all is
well, and that God is good, and that all happiness
is awaiting you if you will but raise your mind and pray
for help, and above all think less of your own condi¬
tion and more of those other poor souls who are
round you.”
There was a silence and Luke spoke again.
“ He has heard you. He wants to thank you. He
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
71
has some glimmer now of his condition. It will grow
within him. He wants to know if he may come again.”
“ Yes ! Yes ! ” cried Bolsover. “ We have quite a
number who report progress from time to time. God
bless you, friend. Come as often as you can.” The
mutter had ceased and there seemed to be a new feel¬
ing of peace in the air. The high voice of Wee One
was heard.
“ Plenty power still left. Red Cloud here. Show
what he can do, if Daddy likes.”
“ Red Cloud is our Indian control. He is usually
busy when any purely physical phenomena have to be
done. You there, Red Cloud ? ”
Three loud thuds, like a hammer on wood, sounded
from the darkness.
“ Good evening, Red Cloud ! ”
A new voice, slow, staccato, laboured, sounded
above them.
“ Good day, Chief ! How the squaw ? How the
papooses ? Strange faces in wigwam to-night.”
“ Seeking knowledge, Red Cloud. Can you show
what you can do ? ”
“ I try. Wait a little. Do all I can.”
Again there was a long hush of expectancy. Then
the novices were faced once more with the miraculous.
There came a dull glow in the darkness. It was
apparently a wisp of luminous vapour. It whisked
across from one side to the other and then circled in
the air. By degrees it condensed into a circular disc
cf radiance about the size of a bull’s-eye lantern. It
cast no reflection round it and was simply a clean-cut
circle in the gloom. Once it approached Enid’s face
and Malone saw it clearly from the side.
“ Why, there is a hand holding it ! ” he cried, with
sudden suspicion.
72
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Yes, there is a materialised hand,” said Mailey.
“ I can see it clearly.”
“ Would you like it to touch you, Mr. Malone ? ”
“ Yes, if it will.”
The light vanished and an instant afterwards Ma¬
lone felt pressure upon his own hand. He turned it
palm upwards and clearly felt three fingers laid across
it, smooth, warm fingers of adult size. He closed his
own fingers and the hand seemed to melt away in his
grasp.
“ It has gone ! ” he gasped.
“ Yes ! Red Cloud is not very good at materialisa¬
tions. Perhaps we don’t give him the proper sort of
power. But his lights are excellent.”
Several more had broken out. They were of dif¬
ferent types, slow-moving clouds and little dancing
sparks like glowworms. At the same time both visi¬
tors were conscious of a cold wind which blew upon
their faces. It was no delusion, for Enid felt her hair
stream across her forehead.
“ You feel the rushing wind,” said Mailey. “ Some
of these lights would pass for tongues of fire, would
they not ? Pentecost does not seem such a very re¬
mote or impossible thing, does it ? ”
The tambourine had risen in the air, and the dot of
luminous paint showed that it was circling round.
Presently it descended and touched their heads each in
turn. Then with a jingle it quivered down upon the
table.
“ Why a tambourine ? It seems always to be a
tambourine,” remarked Malone.
“ It is a convenient little instrument,” Mailey ex¬
plained. “ The only one which shows automatically
by its noise where it is flying. I don’t know what other
I could suggest except a musical-box.”
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
73
“ Our box here flies round something amazin’,’’
'said Mrs. Bolsover. “ It thinks nothing of winding
itself up in the air as it flies. It’s a heavy box, too.”
“ Nine pounds,” said Bolsover. “ Well, we seem to
have got to the end of things. I don’t think we shall
get much more to-night. It has not been a bad sitting
— what I should call a fair average sitting. We must
wait a little before we turn on the light. Well, Mr.
Malone, what do you think of it ? Let’s have any
objections now before we part. That’s the worst of
you inquirers, you know. You often bottle things up
in your own mind and let them loose afterwards, when
it would have been easy to settle it at the time. Very
nice and polite to our faces, and then we are a gang of
swindlers in the report.”
Malone’s head was throbbing and he passed his
hand over his heated brow.
“ I am confused,” he said. “ but impressed. Oh,
yes, certainly impressed. I’ve read of these things,
but it is very different when you see them. What
weighs most with me is the obvious sincerity and sanity
of all you people. No one could doubt that.”
“ Come. We’re gettin’ on,” said Bolsover.
“ I try to think the objections which would be
raised by others who were not present. I’ll have to
answer them. First, there is the oddity of it all. It
is so different to our preconceptions of spirit people.”
“ We must fit our theories to the facts,” said Mailey.
“ Up to now we have fitted the facts to our theories.
You must remember that we have been dealing to¬
night — with all respect to our dear good hosts — with
a simple, primitive, earthly type of spirit, who has his
very definite uses, but is not to be taken as an average
type. You might as well take the stevedore whom you
74 THE LAND OF MIST
see on the quay as being a representative English¬
man.”
“ There’s Luke,” said Bolsover.
“ Ah, yes, he is, of course, very much higher. You
heard him and could judge. What else, Mr. Ma¬
lone ? ”
“ Well, the darkness ! Everything done in dark¬
ness. Why should all mediumship be associated with
gloom ? ”
“ You mean all physical mediumship. That is the
only branch of the subject which needs darkness. It is
purely chemical, like the darkness of the photographic
room. It preserves the delicate physical substance
which, drawn from the human body, is the basis of
these phenomena. A cabinet is used for the purpose
of condensing this same vaporous substance and help¬
ing it to solidify. Am I clear ? ”
“ Yes, but it is a pity all the same. It gives a
horrible air of deceit to the whole business.”
“ We get it now and again in the light, Mr.
Malone,” said Bolsover. “ I don’t know if Wee
One is gone yet. Wait a bit ! Where are the
matches ? ” He lit the candle which set them all
blinking after their long darkness. “ Now let us see
what we can do.”
There was a round wooden platter or circle of wood
lying among the miscellaneous objects littered over the
table to serve as playthings for the strange forces.
Bolsover stared at it. They all stared at it. They
had risen but no one was within three feet of it.
“ Please, Wee One, please ! ” cried Mrs. Bolsover.
Malone could hardly believe his eyes. The disc
began to move. It quivered and then rattled upon the
table, exactly as the lid of a boiling pot might do.
SOME STRANGE DOINGS
75
“ Up with it, Wee One ! ” They were all clapping
their hands.
The circle of wood, in the full light of the candle,
rose upon edge and stood there shaking as if trying to
keep its balance.
“ Give three tilts, Wee One.”
The disc inclined forward three times. Then it fell
flat and remained so.
“ I am so glad you have seen that,” said Mailey.
“ There is Telekenesis in its simplest and most decisive
form.”
“ I could not have believed it ! ” cried Enid.
“ Nor I,” said Malone. “ I have extended my
knowledge of what is possible. Mr. Bolsover, you
have enlarged my views.”
“ Good, Mr. Malone ! ”
“ As to the power at the back of these things I am
still ignorant. As to the things themselves I have
now and henceforward not the slightest doubt in the
world. I know that they are true. I wish you all
good night. It is not likely that Miss Challenger or
I will ever forget the evening that we have spent under
your roof.”
It was like another world when they came out into
the frosty air, and saw the taxis bearing back the
pleasure seekers from theatre or cinema palace.
Mailey stood beside them while they waited for a
cab.
“ I know exactly how you feel,” he said, smiling.
“ You look at all these bustling, complacent people,
and you marvel to think how little the}^ know of the
possibilities of life. Don’t you want to stop them ?
Don’t you want to tell them ? And yet they would
only think you a liar or a lunatic. Funny situation, is
it not ? ”
76
THE LAND OF MIST
“ I’ve lost all my bearings for the moment.”
“ They will come back to-morrow morning. It is
curious how fleeting these impressions are. You will
persuade yourselves that you have been dreaming.
Well, good-bye — and let me know if I can help your
studies in the future.”
The friends — one could hardly yet call them lovers
— were absorbed in thought during their drive home.
When he reached Victoria Gardens Malone escorted
Enid to the door of the flat, but he did not go in with
her. Somehow the jeers of Challenger which usually
rather woke sympathy within him would now get upon
his nerves. As it was he heard his greeting in the hall.
“ Well, Enid. Where’s your spook ? Spill him out
of the bag on the floor and let us have a look at him.”
His evening’s adventure ended as it had begun, with
a bellow of laughter which pursued him down the lift.
CHAPTER V
WHERE OUR COMMISSIONERS HAVE A REMARKABLE
EXPERIENCE
MALONE sat at the side table of the smoking-
room of the Literary Club. He had Enid’s im¬
pressions of the seance before him — very subtle and
observant they were — and he was endeavouring to
merge them in his own experience. A group of men
were smoking and chatting round the fire. This did
not disturb the journalist, who found, as many do,
that his; brain and his pen worked best sometimes
when they were stimulated by the knowledge that he
was part of a busy world. Presently, however, some¬
body who observed his presence brought the talk round
to psychic subjects, and then it was more difficult for
him to remain aloof. He leaned back in his chair and
listened.
Polter, the famous novelist, was there, a brilliant
man with a subtle mind, which he used too often to
avoid obvious truth and to defend some impossible
position for the sake of the empty dialectic exercise.
He was holding forth now to an admiring, but not
entirely a subservient audience.
“ Science,” said he, “ is gradually sweeping the
world clear of all these old cobwebs of superstition.
The world was like some old, dusty attic, and the sun
of science is bursting in, flooding it with light, while
the dust settles gradually to the floor.”
“ By science,” said someone maliciously, “ you mean,
77
78
THE LAND OF MIST
of course, men like Sir William Crookes, Sir Oliver
Lodge, Sir William Barrett, Lombroso, Richet, and
so forth.”
Polter was not accustomed to be countered, and
usually became rude.
“ No, sir, I mean nothing so preposterous,” he
answered, with a glare. “ No name, however eminent,
can claim to stand for science so long as he is a
member of an insignificant minority of scientific men.”
“ He is, then, a crank,” said Pollifex, the artist,
who usually played jackal to Polter.
The objector, one Millworthy, a free-lance of
journalism, was not to be so easily silenced.
“ Then Galileo was a crank in his day,” said he.
“ And Harvey was a crank when he was laughed at
over the circulation of the blood.”
“ It’s the circulation of the Daily Gazette which is
at stake,” said Marrible, the humorist of the club.
“ If they get off their stunt I don’t suppose they care
a tinker’s curse what is truth or what is not.”
“ Why such things should be examined at all, ex¬
cept in a police court, I can’t imagine,” said Polter.
“ It is a dispersal of energy, a misdirection of human
thought into channels which lead nowhere. We have
plenty of obvious, material things to examine. Let us
get on with our jobs.”
Atkinson, the surgeon, was one of the circle, and
had sat silently listening. Now he spoke.
“ I think the learned bodies should find more time
for the consideration of psychic matters.”
“ Less,” said Polter.
“ You can’t have less than nothing. They ignore
them altogether. Some time ago I had a series of
cases of telepathic rapport which I wished to lay be¬
fore the Royal Society. My colleague Wilson, the
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
79
zoologist, also had a paper which he proposed to
read. They went in together. His was accepted and
mine rejected. The title of his paper was ‘The Re¬
productive System of the Dung-Beetle.’ ”
There was a general laugh.
“ Quite right, too,” said Polter. “ The humble
dung-beetle was at least a fact. All this psychic stuff
is not.”
“ No doubt you have good grounds for your views,”
chirped the mischievous Millworthy, a mild youth
with a velvety manner. “ I have little time for solid
reading, so I should like to ask you which of Dr.
Crawford’s three books you consider the best ? ”
“ I never heard of the fellow.”
Millworthy simulated intense surprise.
“ Good Heavens, man ! Why, he is the authority.
If you want pure laboratory experiments those are the
books. You might as well lay down the law about
zoology and confess that you had never heard of
Darwin.”
“ This is not science,” said Polter, emphatically.
“ What is really not science,” said Atkinson, with
some heat, “ is the laying down of the law on matters
which you have not studied. It is talk of that sort
which has brought me to the edge of Spiritualism,
when I compare this dogmatic ignorance with the
earnest search for truth conducted by the great
Spiritualists. Many of them took twenty years of
work before they formed their conclusions.”
“ But their conclusions are worthless because they
are upholding a formed opinion.”
“ But each of them fought a long fight before he
formed that opinion. I know a few of them, and there
is not one who did not take a lot of convincing.”
Polter shrugged his shoulders.
80
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Well, they can have their spooks if it makes them
happier, so long as they let me keep my feet firm on
the ground.”
“ Or stuck in the mud,” said Atkinson.
“ I would rather be in the mud with sane people
than in the air with lunatics,” said Polter. “ I know
some of these Spiritualist people and I believe that
you can divide them equally into fools and rogues.”
Malone had listened with interest and then with a
growing indignation. Now he suddenly took fire.
“ Look here, Polter,” he said, turning his chair
towards the company, “ it is fools and dolts like you
which are holding back the world’s progress. You
admit that you have read nothing of this, and I’ll
swear that you have seen nothing. Yet you use the
position and the name which you have won in other
matters in order to discredit a number of people who,
whatever they may be, are certainly very earnest and
very thoughtful.”
“ Oh,” said Polter, “ I had no idea you had got so
far. You don’t dare to say so in your articles. You
are a Spiritualist then. That rather discounts your
views, does it not ? ”
“ I am not a Spiritualist, but I am an honest in¬
quirer, and that is more than you have ever been.
You call them rogues and fools, but, little as I know,
I am sure that some of them are men and women
whose boots you are not worthy to clean.”
“Oh, come, Malone ! ” cried one or two voices,
but the insulted Polter was on his feet. “ It’s men
like you who empty this club,” he cried, as he swept
out. “ I shall certainly never come here again to be
insulted.”
“ I say, you’ve done it, Malone ! ”
“ I felt inclined to help him out with a kick. Why
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
81
should he ride roughshod over other people’s feelings
and beliefs ? He has got on and most of us haven’t,
so he thinks it’s a condescension to come among us.”
“ Dear old Irishman ! ” said Atkinson, patting his
shoulder. “ Rest, perturbed spirit, rest ! But I
wanted to have a word with you. Indeed, I was wait¬
ing here because I did not want to interrupt you.”
“ I’ve had interruptions enough ! ” cried Malone.
“ How could I work with that damned donkey bray¬
ing in my ear ? ”
“ Well, I’ve only a word to say. I’ve got a sitting
with Linden, the famous medium of whom I spoke to
you, at the Psychic College to-night. I have an extra
ticket. Would you care to come ? ”
“ Come ? I should think so ! ”
“ I have another ticket. I should have asked Polter
if he had not been so offensive. Linden does not mind
sceptics, but objects to scoffers. Whom should I
ask ? ”
“ Let Miss Enid Challenger come. We work to¬
gether, you know.”
“ Why, of course I will. Will you let her know ? ”
“ Certainly.”
“ It’s at seven o’clock to-night. The Psychic
College. You know the place down at Holland
Park.”
“ Yes, I have the address. Very well, Miss Chal¬
lenger and I will certainly be there.”
* * * *
Behold the pair, then, upon a fresh psychic adven¬
ture. They picked Atkinson up at Wimpole Street,
and then traversed that long, roaring, rushing driv¬
ing belt of the great city which extends through Oxford
Street and Bayswater to Notting Hill and the stately
Victorian houses of Holland Park. It was at one of
82
THE LAND OF MIST
these that the taxi drew up, a large, imposing building,
standing back a little from the road. A smart maid
admitted them, and the subdued light of the tinted
hall-lamp fell upon shining linoleum and polished
wood-work with the gleam of white marble statuary in
the corner. Enid’s female perceptions told her of a
well-run, well-appointed establishment, with a capable
direction at the head. This direction took the shape
of a kindly Scottish lady who met them in the hall and
greeted Mr. Atkinson as an old friend. She was, in
turn, introduced to the journalists as Mrs. Ogilvy.
Malone had already heard how her husband and she
had founded and run this remarkable institute, which
is the centre of psychic experiment in London, at a
very great cost, both in labour and in money, to them¬
selves.
“ Linden and his wife have gone up,” said Mrs.
Ogilvy. “ He seems to think that the conditions are
favourable. The rest are in the drawing-room.
Won’t you join them for a few minutes ? ”
Quite a number of people had gathered for the
seance, some of them old psychic students who were
mildly interested; others, beginners who looked about
them with rather startled eyes, wondering what was
going to happen next. A tall man was standing near
the door who turned and disclosed the tawny beard
and open face of Algernon Mailey. He shook hands
with the newcomers.
“ Another experience, Mr. Malone ? Well, I
thought you gave a very fair account of the last. You
are still a neophyte, but you are well within the gates
of the temple. Are you alarmed, Miss Challenger ? ”
“ I don’t think I could be while you were around,”
she answered.
He laughed. ,
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
83
“ Of course, a materialisation seance is a little dif¬
ferent to any other — more impressive, in a way.
You’ll find it very instructive, Malone, as bearing upon
psychic photography and other matters. By the way,
you should try for a psychic picture. The famous
Hope works upstairs.”
“ I always thought that that at least was fraud.”
“ On the contrary, I should say it was the best estab¬
lished of all phenomena, the one which leaves the
most permanent proof. I’ve been a dozen times under
every possible test condition. The real trouble is,
not that it lends itself to fraud, but that it lends it¬
self to exploitation by that villainous journalism which
cares only for a sensation. Do you know anyone
here ? ”
“No, we don’t.”
“ The tall, handsome lady is the Duchess of Ross-
land. Then, there are Lord and Lady Montnoir, the
middle-aged couple near the fire. Real good folk and
among the very few of the aristocracy who have shown
earnestness and moral courage in this matter. The
talkative lady is Miss Badley, who lives for seances,
a jaded Society woman in search of new sensations —
always visible, always audible and always empty. I
don’t know the two men. I heard someone say they
were researchers from the University. The stout man
with the lady in black is Sir James Smith — they lost
two boys in the war. The tall, dark person is a weird
man named Barclay, who lives, I understand, in one
room and seldom comes out save for a seance.”
“ And the man with the horn glasses ? ”
“ That is a pompous ass named Weatherby. He is
one of those who wander about on the obscure edges
of Masonry, talking with whispers and reverence of
mysteries where no mystery is. Spiritualism, with its
84
THE LAND OF MIST
very real and awful mysteries, is, to him, a vulgar
thing because it brought consolation to common folk,
but he loves to read papers on the Palladian Cultus,
ancient and accepted Scottish rites, and Baphometic
figures. Eliphas Levi is his prophet.”
“ It sounds very learned,” said Enid.
“ Or very absurd. But, hullo ! Here are mutual
friends.”
The two Bolsovers had arrived, very hot and
frowsy and genial. There is no such leveller of classes
as spiritualism, and the charwoman with psychic force
is the superior of the millionaire who lacks it. The
Bolsovers and the aristocrats fraternised instantly.
The Duchess was just asking for admission to the
grocer’s circle, when Mrs. Ogilvy bustled in.
“ I think everyone is here now,” she said. “ It is
time to go upstairs.”
The seance room was a large, comfortable chamber
on the first floor, with a circle of easy chairs, and a
curtain-hung divan which served as a cabinet. The
medium and his wife were waiting there. Mr. Linden
was a gentle, large-featured man, stoutish in build,
deep-chested, clean-shaven, with dreamy, blue eyes and
flaxen, curly hair which rose in a pyramid at the apex
of his head. He was of middle age. His wife was
rather younger, with the sharp, querulous expression
of the tired housekeeper, and quick, critical eyes, which
softened into something like adoration when she
looked at her husband. Her role was to explain
matters and to guard his interests while he was un¬
conscious.
“ The sitters had better just take their own places,”
said the medium. “ If you can alternate the sexes
it is as well. Don’t cross your knees, it breaks the
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
85
current. If we have a materialisation, don’t grab at
it. If you do, you are liable to injure me.”
The two sleuths of the Research Society looked at
each other knowingly. Mailey observed it.
“ Quite right,” he said. “ I have seen two cases of
dangerous haemorrhage in the medium brought on by
that very cause.”
“ Why ? ” asked Malone.
“ Because the ectoplasm used is drawn from the
medium. It recoils upon him like a snapped elastic
band. Where it comes through the skin you get a
bruise. Where it comes from mucous membrane you
get bleeding.”
“ And when it comes from nothing, you get noth¬
ing,” said the researcher with a grin.
“ I will explain the procedure in a few words,” said
Mrs. Ogilvy, when everyone was seated. “ Mr.
Linden does not enter the cabinet at all. He sits
outside it, and as he tolerates red light you will be
able to satisfy yourselves that he does not leave his
seat. Mrs. Linden sits on the other side. She is
there to regulate and explain. In the first place we
would wish you to examine the cabinet. One of you
will also please lock the door on the inside and be
responsible for the key.”
The cabinet proved to be a mere tent of hangings,
detached from the wall and standing on a solid plat¬
form. The reseachers ferreted about inside it and
stamped on the boards. All seemed solid.
“ What is the use of it ? ” Malone whispered to
Mailey.
“It serves as a reservoir and condensing place for
the ectoplasmic vapour from the medium, which would
otherwise diffuse over the room.”
“ It has been known to serve other purposes also,”
86
THE LAND OF MIST
remarked one of the researchers, who overheard the
conversation.
“ That’s true enough,” said Mailey philosophically.
“ I am all in favour of caution and supervision.”
“Well, it seems fraud-proof on this occasion, if the
medium sits outside.” The two researchers were
agreed on this.
The medium was seated on one side of the little
tent, his wife on the other. The light was out, and a
small red lamp near the ceiling was just sufficient to
enable outlines to be clearly seen. As the eye became
accustomed to it some detail could also be observed.
“ Mr. Linden will begin by some clairvoyant read¬
ings,” said Mrs. Linden. Her whole attitude, seated
beside the cabinet with her hands on her lap and the
air of a proprietor, made Enid smile, for she thought
of Mrs. Jarley and her waxworks.
Linden, who was not in trance, began to give clair¬
voyance. It was not very good. Possibly the mixed
influence of so many sitters of various types at close
quarters was too disturbing. That wTas the excuse
which he gave himself when several of his descriptions
were unrecognised. But Malone was more shocked by
those which were recognised, since it was so clear that
the word was put into the medium’s mouth. It was
the folly of the sitter rather than the fault of the
medium, but it was disconcerting all the same.
“ I see a young man with brown eyes and a rather
drooping moustache.”
“ Oh, darling, darling, have you then come back ! ”
cried Miss Badley. “ Oh, has he a message ? ”
“ He sends his love and does not forget.”
“ Oh, how evidential ! It is so exactly what the
dear boy would have said ! My first lover, you
know,” she added, in a simpering voice to the com-
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
87
pany. “ He never fails to come. Mr. Linden has
brought him again and again.”
“ There is a young fellow in khaki building upon
the left. I see a symbol over his head. It might be a
Greek cross.”
“ Jim — it is surely Jim ! ” cried Lady Smith.
“ Yes. He nods his head.”
“ And the Greek cross is probably a propeller,” said
Sir James. “ He was in the Air Service, you know.”
Malone and Enid were both rather shocked.
Mailey was also uneasy.
“ This is not good,” he whispered to Enid. “ Wait
a bit ! You will get something better.”
There were several good recognitions, and then
someone resembling Summerlee was described for
Malone. This was wisely discounted by him, since
Linden might have been in the audience on the former
occasion. Mrs. Debbs’ exhibition seemed to him far
more convincing than that of Linden.
“ Wait a bit ! ” Mailey repeated.
“ The medium will now try for materialisations,”
said Mrs. Linden. “ If the figures appear I would ask
you not to touch them, save by request. Victor will
tell you if you may do so. Victor is the medium’s
control.”
The medium had settled down in his chair and he
now began to draw long, whistling breaths with deep
intakes, puffing the air out between his lips. Finally
he steadied down and seemed to sink into a deep coma,
his chin upon his breast. Suddenly he spoke, but it
seemed that his voice was better modulated and more
cultivated than before.
“ Good evening, all ! ” said the voice.
There was a general murmur of “ Good evening,
Victor.”
88
THE LAND OF MIST
“ I am afraid that the vibrations are not very
harmonious. The sceptical element is present, but
not, I think, predominant, so that we may hope for
results. Martin Lightfoot is doing what he can.”
“ That is the Indian control,” Mailey whispered.
“ I think that if you would start the gramophone it
would be helpful. A hymn is always best, though
there is no real objection to secular music. Give us
what you think best, Mrs. Ogilvy.”
There was the rasping of a needle which had not
yet found its grooves. Then “ Lead, Kindly Light ”
was churned out. The audience joined in in a subdued
fashion. Mrs. Ogilvy then changed it to “ O, God,
our help in ages past.”
“ They often change the records themselves,” said
Mrs. Ogilvy, “ but to-night there it not enough
power.”
“ O, yes,” said the voice. “ There is enough power,
Mrs. Ogilvy, but we are anxious to conserve it all for
the materialisations. Martin says they are building
up very well.”
At this moment the curtain in front of the cabinet
began to sway. It bellied out as if a strong wind were
behind it. At the same time a breeze was felt by all
who were in the circle, together with a sensation of
cold.
“ It is quite chilly,” whispered Enid, with a shiver.
“It is not a subjective feeling,” Mailey answered.
“ Mr. Harry Price has tested it with thermometric
readings. So did Professor Crawford.”
“ My God ! ” cried a startled voice. It belonged to
the pompous dabbler in mysteries, who was suddenly
faced with a real mystery. The curtains of the cabinet
had parted and a human figure had stolen noiselessly
out. There was the medium clearly outlined on one
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
89
side. There was Mrs. Linden, who had sprung to her
feet, on the other. And, between them, the little
black, hesitating figure, which seemed to be terrified
at its own position. Mrs. Linden soothed and en¬
couraged it.
“D on’t be alarmed, dear. It is all quite right. No
one will hurt you.”
“ It is someone who has never been through be¬
fore,” she explained to the company. “ Naturally it
seems very strange to her. Just as strange as if we
broke into their world. That’s right, dear. You are
gaining strength, I can see. Well done ! ”
The figure was moving forward. Everyone sat
spell bound, with staring eyes. Miss Badley began
to giggle hysterically. Weatherby lay back in his
chair, gasping with horror. Neither Malone nor
Enid felt any fear, but were consumed with curiosity.
How marvellous to hear the humdrum flow of life in
the street outside and to be face to face with such a
sight as that.
Slowly the figure moved round. Now it was close
to Enid and between her and the red light. Stooping,
she could get the silhouette sharply outlined. It was
that of a little, elderly woman, with sharp, clear-cut
features.
“ It’s Susan ! ” cried Mrs. Bolsover. “ Oh, Susan,
don’t you know me ? ”
The figure turned and nodded her head.
“ Yes, yes, dear, it is your sister Susie,” cried her
husband. “ I never saw her in anything but black.
Susan, speak to us ! ”
The head was shaken.
“ They seldom speak the first time they come,” said
Mrs. Linden, whose rather blase, businesslike air was
in contrast to the intense emotion of the company.
90
THE LAND OF MIST
“ I’m afraid she can’t hold together long. Ah, there !
She has gone ! ”
The figure had disappeared. There had been some
backward movement towards the cabinet, but it
seemed to the observers that she sank into the ground
before she reached it. At any rate, she was gone.
“ Gramophone, please ! ” said Mrs. Linden. Every¬
one relaxed and sat back with a sigh. The gramo¬
phone struck up a lively air. Suddenly the curtains
parted, and a second figure appeared.
It was a young girl, with flowing hair down her
back. She came forward swiftly and with perfect as¬
surance to the centre of the circle.
Mrs. Linden laughed in a satisfied way.
“ Now you will get something good,” she said.
“ Here is Lucille.”
“ Good evening, Lucille ! ” cried the Duchess. “ I
met you last month, you will remember, when your
medium came to Maltraver Towers.”
“Yes, yes, lady, I remember you. You have a
little boy, Tommy, on our side of life. No, no, not
dead, lady ! We are far more alive than you are. All
the fun and frolic are with us ! ” She spoke in a high,
clear voice and perfect English.
“ Shall I show you what we do over here ? ” She
began a graceful, gliding dance, while she whistled as
melodiously as a bird. “ Poor Susan could not do
that. Susan has had no practice. Lucille knows how
to use a built-up body.”
“ Do you remember me, Lucille ? ” asked Mailey.
“ I remember you, Mr. Mailey. Big man with
yellow beard.”
For the second time in her life Enid had to pinch
herself hard to satisfy herself that she was not dream¬
ing. Was this graceful creature, who had now sat
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
91
down in the centre of the circle, a real materialisation
of ectoplasm, used for the moment as a machine for
expression by a soul that had passed, or was it an
illusion of the senses, or was it a fraud ? There were
the three possibilities. An illusion was absurd when
all had the same impression. Was it fraud ? But
this was certainly not the little old woman. She was
inches taller and fair, not dark. And the cabinet was
fraud-proof. It had been meticulously examined.
Then it was true. But if it were true, what a vista
of possibilities opened out. Was it not far the
greatest matter which could claim the attention of the
world !
Meanwhile, Lucille had been so natural and the
situation was so normal that even the most nervous
had relaxed. The girl answered most cheerfully to
every question, and they rained upon her from every
side.
“ Where did you live, Lucille ? ”
“ Perhaps I had better answer that,” interposed
Mrs. Linden. “ It will save the power. Lucille was
bred in South Dakota in the United States, and passed
over at the age of fourteen. We have verified some
of her statements.”
“ Are you glad you died, Lucille ? ”
“ Glad for my own sake. Sorry for mother.”
“ Has your mother seen you since ? ”
“ Poor mother is a shut box. Lucille cannot open
the lid.”
“ Are you happy ? ”
“ Oh, yes, so gloriously happy.”
“ Is it right that you can come back ? ”
“ Would God allow it if it were not right ? What
a wicked man you must be to ask ! ”
“ What religion were you ? ”
92
THE LAND OF MIST
“ We were Roman Catholics.”
“ Is that the right religion ? ”
“ All religions are right if they make you better.”
“ Then it does not matter.”
“ It is what people do in daily life, not what they
believe.”
“Tell us more, Lucille.”
“ Lucille has little time. There are others who wish
to come. If Lucille uses too much power, the others
have less. Oh, God is very good and kind ! You poor
people on earth do not know how good and kind He
is because it is grey down there. But it is grey for
your own good. It is to give you your chance to earn
all the lovely things which wait for you. But you can
only tell how wonderful He is when you get over
here.”
“ Have you seen him ? ”
“ Seen him ! How could you see God ? No, no,
He is all round us and in us and in everything, but we
do not see Him. But I have seen the Christ. Oh,
He was glorious, glorious ! Now, good-bye — good¬
bye ! ” She backed towards the cabinet and sank into
the shadows.
Now came a tremendous experience for Malone. A
small, dark, rather broad figure of a woman appeared
slowly from the cabinet. Mrs. Linden encouraged
her and then came across to the journalist.
“It is for you. You can break the circle. Come up
to her.”
Malone advanced and peered awestruck into the
face of the apparition. There was not a foot between
them. Surely that large head, that solid, square out¬
line was familiar ! He put his face still nearer — it
was almost touching. He strained his eyes. It
seemed to him that the features were semi-fluid,
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
93
moulding themselves into a shape, as if some unseen
hand was modelling them in putty.
“ Mother ! ” he cried. “ Mother ! ”
Instantly the figure threw up both her hands in a
wild gesture of joy. The motion seemed to destroy
her equilibrium and she vanished.
“ She had not been through before. She could not
speak,” said Mrs. Linden, in her businesslike way.
“ It was your mother.”
Malone went back, half-stunned, to his seat. It is
only when these things come to one’s own address that
one understands their full force. His mother ! Ten
years in her grave and yet standing before him. Could
he swear it was his mother ? No, he could not. Was
he morally certain that it was his mother? Yes, he
was morally certain. He was shaken to the core.
But other wonders diverted his thoughts. A young
man had emerged briskly from the cabinet and had
advanced to the front of Mailey, where he had halted.
“ Hullo, Jock ! Dear old Jock ! ” said Mailey.
“ My nephew,” he explained to the company. “ He
always comes when I am with Linden.”
“ The power is sinking,” said the lad, in a clear
voice. “ I can’t stay very long. I am so glad to see
you, Uncle. You know, we can see quite clearly in
this light, even if you can’t.”
“Yes, I know you can. I say, Jock. I wanted to
tell you that I told your mother I had seen you. She
said her Church taught her it was wrong.”
“ I know. And that I was a demon. Oh, it is
rotten, rotten, rotten, and rotten things will fall ! ”
His voice broke in a sob.
“ Don’t blame her, Jock, she believes this.”
“ No, no, I don’t blame her ! She will know better
some day. The day is coming soon when all truth
94
THE LAND OF MIST
will be manifest and all these corrupt Churches will be
swept off the earth with their cruel doctrines and their
caricatures of God.”
“ Why, Jock, you are becoming quite a heretic ! ”
“ Love, Uncle ! Love ! That is all that counts.
What matter what you believe if you are sweet and
kind and unselfish as the Christ was of old ? ”
“ Have you seen Christ ? ” asked someone.
“ Not yet. Perhaps the time may come.”
“ Is He not in Heaven, then ?”
“ There are many heavens. I am in a very humble
one. But it is glorious, all the same.”
Enid had thrust her head forward during this dia¬
logue. Her eyes had got used to the light and she
could see more clearly than before. The man who
stood within a few feet of her was not human. Of
that she had no doubt whatever, and yet the points
were very subtle. Something in his strange, yellow-
white colouring as contrasted with the faces of her
neighbours. Something, also, in the curious stiffness
of his carriage, as of a man in very rigid stays.
“ Now, Jock,” said Mailey, “ give an address to the
company. Tell them a few words about your life.”
The figure hung his head, exactly as a shy youth
would do in life.
“ Oh, Uncle, I can’t.”
“ Come, Jock, we love to listen to you.”
“ Teach the folk what death is,” the figure began.
“ God wants them to know. That is why He lets us
come back. It is nothing. You are no more changed
than if you went into the next room. You can’t be¬
lieve you are dead. I didn’t. It was only when I
saw old Sam that I knew, for I was certain that he was
dead, anyhow. Then I came back to mother. And ”
= — his voice broke — “ she would not receive me.”
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
95
“ Never mind, dear old Jock,” said Mailey. “ She
will learn wisdom.”
“ Teach them the truth ! Teach it to them ! Oh,
it is so much more important than all the things men
talk about. If papers for one week gave as much
attention to psychic things as they do to football,
it would be known to all. It is ignorance which
stands - ”
The observers were conscious of a sort of flash
towards the cabinet, but the youth had disappeared.
“ Power run down,” said Mailey. “ Poor lad, he
held on to the last. He always did. That was how
he died.”
There was a long pause. The gramophone started
again. Then there was a movement of the curtains.
Something was emerging. Mrs. Linden sprang up and
waved the figure back. The medium for the first
time stirred in his chair and groaned.
“ What is the matter, Mrs. Linden ? ”
“ Only half-formed,” she answered. “ The lower
face had not materialised. Some of you would have
been alarmed. I think that we shall have no more
tonight. The power has sunk very low.”
So it proved. The lights were gradually turned on.
The medium lay with a white face and a clammy brow
in his chair, while his wife sedulously watched over
him, unbuttoning his collar and bathing his face from
a water-glass. The company broke into little groups,
discussing what they had seen.
“ Oh, wasn’t it thrilling ! ” cried Miss Badley. “ It
really was most exciting. But what a pity we could
not see the one with the semi-materialised face.”
“ Thank you, I have seen quite enough,” said the
pompous mystic, all the pomposity shaken out of him.
96 THE LAND OF MIST
“I confess that it has been rather too much for my
nerves.”
Dr. Atkinson found himself near the psychic re¬
searchers. “ Well, what do you make of it ? ” he
asked.
“ I have seen it better done at Maskelyne’s Hall,”
said one.
“ Oh, come, Scott ! ” said the other. “ You’ve no
right to say that. You admitted that the cabinet was
fraud-proof.”
“ Well, so do the committees who go on the stage
at Maskelyne’s.
“ Yes, but it is Maskelyne’s own stage. This is not
Linden’s own stage. He has no machinery.”
“ Populus vult decipi,” the other answered, shrug¬
ging his shoulders. “ I should certainly reserve judg¬
ment.” He moved away with the dignity of one who
cannot be deceived, while his more rational companion
still argued with him as they went.
“ Did you hear that ? ” said Atkinson. “ There is a
certain class of psychic researcher who is absolutely
incapable of receiving evidence. They misuse their
brains by straining them to find a way round when
the road is quite clear before them. When the human
race advances into its new kingdom, these intellectual
men will form the absolute rear.”
“ No, no,” said Mailey, laughing. “ The bishops
are predestined to be the rearguard. I see them all
marching in step, a solid body, with their gaiters and
cassocks — the last in the whole world to reach spirit¬
ual truth.”
“ Oh, come,” said Enid, “ that is too severe. They
are all good men.”
“ Of course they are. It’s quite physiological.
They are a body of elderly men, and the elderly brain
A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE
97
is sclerosed and cannot record new impressions. It’s
not their fault, but the fact remains. You are very
silent, Malone.”
But Malone was thinking of a little, squat, dark
figure which waved its hands in joy when he spoke to
it. It was with that image in his mind that he turned
from this room of wonders and passed down into the
street.
CHAPTER VI
IN WHICH THE READER IS SHOWN THE HABITS OF A
NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
WE will now leave that little group with whom
we have made our first exploration of these grey
and ill-defined, but immensely important, regions
of human thought and experiences. From the re¬
searchers we will turn to the researched. Come with
me and we will visit Mr. Linden at home, and will ex¬
amine the lights and shades which make up the life of
a professional medium.
To reach him we will pass down the crowded
thoroughfare of Tottenham Court Road, where the
huge furniture emporia flank the way, and we will
turn into a small street of drab houses which leads
eastwards towards the British Museum. Tullis Street
is the name and 40 the number. Here it is, one of a
row, flat-faced, dull-coloured and commonplace, with
railed steps leading up to a discoloured door, and one
front-room window, in which a huge gilt-edged Bible
upon a small round table reassures the timid visitor.
With the universal pass-key of imagination we open
the dingy door, pass down a dark passage and up a
narrow stair. It is nearly ten o’clock in the morning
and yet it is in his bedroom that we must seek the
famous worker of miracles. The fact is that he has
had, as we have seen, an exhausting sitting the night
before, and that he has to conserve his strength in
the mornings.
98
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
99
At the moment of our inopportune, but invisible,
visit he was sitting up, propped by the pillows, with a
breakfast-tray upon his knees. The vision he pre¬
sented would have amused those who have prayed
with him in the humble Spiritualist temples, or had
sat with awe at the seances where he had exhibited
the modern equivalents of the gifts of the Spirit. He
looked unhealthily pallid in the dim morning light,
and his curly hair rose up in a tangled pyramid above
his broad, intellectual brow. The open collar of his
night-shirt displayed a broad, bull’s neck, and the
depth of his chest and spread of his shoulders showed
that he was a man of considerable personal strength.
He was eating his breakfast with avidity while he
conversed with the little, eager, dark-eyed wife who
was seated on the side of the bed.
“ And you reckon it a good meeting, Mary ? ”
“ Fair to middling, Tom. There was two of them
researchers raking round with their feet and upsetting
everybody. D’ye think those folk in the Bible would
have got their phenomena if they had chaps of that
sort on the premises ? ‘ Of one accord,’ that’s what
they say in the Book.”
“ Of course ! ” cried Linden heartily. “ Was the
Duchess pleased ? ”
“ Yes, I think she was very pleased. So was Mr.
Atkinson, the surgeon. There was a new man there
called Malone of the Press. Then Lord and Lady
Montnoir got evidence and so did Sir James Smith and
Mr. Mailey.”
“ I wasn’t satisfied with the clairvoyance,” said the
medium. “ The silly idiots kept on putting things into
my mind. ‘ That’s surely my Uncle Sam,’ and so
forth. It blurs me so that I can see nothing clear.”
“ Yes, and they think they are helping ! Helping
100 THE LAND OF MIST
to muddle you and deceive themselves. I know the
kind.”
“ But I went under nicely and I am glad there were
some fine materialisations. It took it out of me,
though. I’m a rag this morning.”
“ They work you too hard, dear. I’ll take you to
Margate and build you up.”
“ Well, maybe at Easter we could do a week. It
would be fine. I don’t mind readings and clairvoyance,
but the physicals do try you. I’m not as bad as
Hallows. They say he just lies white and gasping on
the floor after them.”
“ Yes,” cried the woman bitterly. “ And then they
run to him with whiskey, and so they teach him to
rely on the bottle and you get another case of a
drunken medium. I know them. You keep off it,
Tom ! ”
“ Yes, one of our trade should stick to soft drinks.
If he can stick to vegetables, too, he’s all the better,
but I can’t preach that while I am wolfin’ up ham and
eggs. By Gosh, Mary ! it’s past ten and I have a
string of them cornin’ this morning. I’m going to
make a bit to-day.”
“ You give it away as quick as you make it, Tom.”
“ Well, some hard cases come my way. So long as
we can make both ends meet what more do we want ?
I expect they will look after us all right.”
“ They have let down a lot of other poor mediums
who did good work in their day.”
“ It’s the rich folk that are to blame, not the Spirit-
people,” said Tom Linden hotly. “ It makes me see
red when I remember these folk, Lady This and
Countess That, declaring all the comfort they have
had, and then leaving those who gave it to die in the
gutter or rot in the workhouse. Poor old Tweedy and
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
101
Soames and the rest all living on old-age pensions and
the papers talking of the money that mediums make,
while some damned conjuror makes more than all of
us put together by a rotten imitation with two tons
of machinery to help him.”
“ Don’t worry, dear,” cried the medium’s wife, put¬
ting her thin hand caressingly upon the tangled mane
of her man. “ It all comes level in time and every¬
body pays the price for what they have done.”
Linden laughed loudly. “ It’s my Welsh half that
comes out when I flare up. Let the conjurors take
their dirty money and let the rich folk keep their
purses shut. I wonder what they think money is for.
Paying death duties is about the only fun some of
them seem to get out of it. If I had their money
• • •
There was a knock at the door.
“ Please, sir, your brother Silas is below.”
The two looked at each other with some dismay.
“ More trouble,” said Mrs. Linden sadly.
Linden shrugged his shoulders. “ All right, Su¬
san ! ” he cried. “ Tell him I’ll be down. Now,
dear, you keep him going and I’ll be with you in a
quarter of an hour.”
In less time than he named he was down in the
front-room — his consulting room — where his wife was
evidently having some difficulty in making agreeable
conversation with their visitor. He was a big, heavy
man, not unlike his elder brother, but with all the
genial chubbiness of the medium coarsened into pure
brutality. He had the same pile of curly hair, but he
was clean-shaven with a heavy, obstinate jowl. He
sat by the window with his huge freckled hands upon
his knees. A very important part of Mr. Silas Linden
lay in those hands, for he had been a formidable
102
THE LAND OF MIST
professional boxer, and at one time was fancied for
the welter-weight honours of England. Now, as his
stained tweed suit and frayed boots made clear, he
had fallen on evil days, which he endeavoured to miti¬
gate by cadging on his brother.
“ Mornin’, Tom,” he said in a husky voice. Then
as the wife left the room: “Got a drop of Scotch
about ? I’ve a head on me this morning. I met some
of the old set last night down at ‘The Admiral Ver¬
non.’ Quite a reunion it was — chaps I hadn’t seen
since my best ring days.”
“ Sorry, Silas,” said the medium, seating himself
behind his desk. “ I keep nothing in the house.”
“ Spirits enough, but not the right sort,” said Silas.
“ Well, the price of a drink will do as well. If you’ve
got a Bradbury about you I could do with it, for
there’s nothing coming my way.”
Tom Linden took a pound from his desk.
“ Here you are, Silas. So long as I have any you
have your share. But you had two pounds last week.
Is it gone ? ”
“ Gone ! I should say so ! ” He put the note in
his pocket. “ Now, look here, Tom, I want to speak
to you very serious as between man and man.”
“ Yes, Silas, what is it ? ”
“ You see that ! ” He pointed to a lump on the
back of his hand. “ That’s a bone ! See ? It will
never be right. It was when I hit Curly Jenkins third
round and outed him at the N.S.C. I outed myself
for life that night. I can put up a show fight and
exhibition bout, but I’m done for the real thing. My
right has gone west.”
“ It’s a hard case, Silas.”
“ Damned hard ! But that’s neither here nor there.
What matters is that I’ve got to pick up a living and I
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
103
want to know how to do it. An old scrapper don’t
find many openings. Chueker-out at a pub with free
drinks. Nothing doing there. What I want to know,
Tom, is what’s the matter with my becoming a me¬
dium ? ”
“ A medium ? ”
“ Why the devil should you stare at me ! If it’s
good enough for you it’s good enough for me.”
“ But you are not a medium.”
“ Oh, come ! Keep that for the newspapers. It’s
all in the family, and between you an’ me, how dy’e
do it ? ”
“ I don’t do it. I do nothing.”
“ And get four or five quid a week for it. That’s
a good yarn. Now you can’t fool me, Tom. I’m
not one o’ those duds that pay you a thick ’un for an
hour in the dark. We’re on the square, you an’ me.
How d’ye do it ? ”
“ Do what ? ”
“ Well, them raps, for example. I’ve seen you sit
there at your desk, as it might be, and raps come
answerin’ questions over yonder on the bookshelf. It’s
damned clever — fair puzzles ’em every time. How
d’ye get them ? ”
“ I tell you I don’t. It’s outside myself.”
“ Rats! You can tell me, Tom. I’m Griffiths, the
safe man. It would set me up for life if I could do
it.”
For the second time in one morning the medium’s
Welsh strain took control.
“ You’re an impudent, blasphemous rascal, Silas
Linden. It’s men like you who come into our move¬
ment and give it a bad name. You should know me
better than to think that I am a cheat. Get out of my
house, you ungrateful rascal ! ”
104
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Not too much of your lip,” growled the ruffian.
“ Out you go, or I’ll put you out, brother or no
brother.”
Silas doubled his great fists and looked ugly for a
moment. Then the anticipation of favours to come
softened his mood.
“Well, well, no harm meant,” he growled, as he
made for the door. “ I expect I can make a shot at it
without your help.” His grievance suddenly over¬
came his prudence as he stood in the doorway. “ You
damned, canting, hypocritical box-of-tricks. I’ll be
even with you yet.”
The heavy door slammed behind him.
Mrs. Linden had run in to her husband.
“ The ’ulking blackguard ! ” she cried. “ I ’eard
’im. What did ’e want ? ”
“ Wanted me to put him wise to mediumship.
Thinks it’s a trick of some sort that I could teach
him.”
“ The foolish lump ! Well, it’s a good thing, for
he won’t dare show his face here again.”
“ Oh, won’t he ? ”
“ If he does I’ll slap it for him. To think of his
upsettin’ you like this. Why, you’re shakin’ all over.”
“ I suppose I wouldn’t be a medium if I wasn’t high
strung. Someone said we were poets, only more so.
But it’s bad just when work is beginning.”
“ I’ll give you healing.”
She put her little, work-worn hands over his high
forehead and held them there in silence.
“ That’s better ! ” said he. “ Well done, Mary.
I’ll have a cigarette in the kitchen. That will finish
it.”
“ No, there’s someone here.” She had looked out
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL 105
of the window. “ Are you fit to see her ? It’s a
woman.”
“ Yes, yes. I am all right now. Show her in.”
An instant later a woman entered, a pale, tragic
figure in black, whose appearance told its own tale.
Linden motioned her to a chair away from the light.
Then he looked through his papers.
“ You are Mrs. Blount, are you not ? You had an
appointment.”
“ Yes — I wanted to ask - ”
“ Please ask me nothing. It confuses me.”
He was looking at her with the medium’s gaze in
his light, grey eyes — that gaze which looks round and
through a thing rather than at it.
“ You have been wise to come, very wise. There is
someone beside you who has an urgent message which
could not be delayed. I get a name . . . Francis
. . . yes, Francis.”
The woman clasped her hands.
“ Yes, yes, it is the name.”
“ A dark man, very sad, very earnest — oh, so
earnest. He will speak. He must speak ! It is ur¬
gent. He says, ‘ Tink-a-bell.’ Who is Tink-a-bell ? ”
“ Yes, yes, he called me so. Oh, Frank, Frank,
speak to me ! Speak ! ”
“ He is speaking. His hand is on your head.
‘ Tink-a-bell,’ he says. ‘ If you do what you purpose
doing it will make a gap that it will take many years
to cross.’ Does that mean anything ? ”
She sprang from her chair. “ It means everything.
Oh, Mr. Linden, this was my last chance. If this
had failed — if I found that I had really lost him I
meant to go and seek him. I would have taken
poison this night.”
“ Thank God that I have saved you. It is a terrible
106
THE LAND OF MIST
thing, madame, to take one’s life. It breaks the law
of Nature, and Nature’s laws cannot be broken with¬
out punishment. I rejoice that he has been able to
save you. He has more to say to you. His message
is, ‘ If you will live and do your duty I will for ever be
by your side, far closer to you than ever I was in life.
My presence will surround and guard both you and our
three babes.’ ”
It was marvellous the change ! The pale, worn
woman who had entered the room was now standing
with flushed cheeks and smiling lips. It is true that
tears were pouring down her face, but they were tears
of joy. She clapped her hands. She made little con¬
vulsive movements as if she would dance.
“ He’s not dead ! He’s not dead ! How can he be
dead if he can speak to me and be closer to me than
ever ? Oh, it’s glorious ! Oh, Mr. Linden, what can
I do for you ? You have saved me from shameful
death ! You have restored my husband to me ! Oh,
what a Godlike power you have ! ”
The medium was an emotional man and his own
tears were moist upon his cheeks.
“ My dear lady, say no more. It is not I. I do
nothing. You can thank God Who in His mercy
permits some of His mortals to discern a spirit or to
carry a message. Well, well, a guinea is my fee, if
you can afford it. Come back to me if ever you are
in trouble.”
“ I am content now,” she cried, drying her eyes,
“ to await God’s will and to do my duty in the world
until such time as it shall be ordained that we unite
once more.”
The widow left the house walking on air. Tom Lin¬
den also felt that the clouds left by his brother’s visit
had been blown away by this joyful incident, for there
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
107
is no happiness like giving happiness and seeing the
beneficent workings of one’s own power. He had
hardly settled down in his chair, however, before
another client was ushered in. This time it was a
smartly-dressed, white-spatted, frock-coated man of
the world, with a bustling air as of one to whom min¬
utes are precious.
“ Mr. Linden, I believe ? I have heard, sir, of your
powers. I am told that by handling an object you
can often get some clue as to the person who owned
it ?”
“ It happens sometimes. I cannot command it.”
“ I should like to test you. I have a letter here
which I received this morning. Would you try your
powers upon that ? ”
The medium took the folded letter, and, leaning
back in his chair, he pressed it upon his forehead. He
sat with his eyes closed for a minute or more. Then
he returned the paper.
“ I don’t like it,” he said. “ I get a feeling of evil.
I see a man dressed all in white. He has a dark face.
He writes at a bamboo table. I get a sensation of
heat. The letter is from the tropics.”
“ Yes, from Central America.”
“ I can tell you no more.”
“ Are the spirits so limited ? I thought they knew
everything.”
“ They do not know everything. Their power and
knowledge are as closely limited as ours. But this is
not a matter for the spirit people. What I did then
was psychometry, which, so far as we know, is a
power of the human soul.”
“ Well, you are right as far as you have gone. This
man, my correspondent, wants me to put up the money
108
THE LAND OF MIST
for the half-share in an oil boring. Shall I do it ? ”
Tom Linden shook his head.
“ These powers are given to some of us, sir, for the
consolation of humanity and for a proof of immor¬
tality. They were never meant for worldly use.
Trouble always comes of such use, trouble to the
medium and trouble to the client. I will not go into
the matter.”
“ Money’s no object,” said the man, drawing a
wallet from his inner pocket.
“ No, sir, nor to me. I am poor, but I have never
ill-used my gift.”
“ A fat lot of use the gift is, then ! ” said the
visitor, rising from his chair. “ I can get all the rest
from the parsons who are licensed, and you are not.
There is your guinea, but I have not had the worth
of it.”
“ I am sorry, sir, but I cannot break a rule. There
is a lady beside you — near your left shoulder — an
elderly lady . . .”
“ Tut ! tut ! ” said the financier, turning towards
the door.
“ She wears a large gold locket with an emerald
cross upon her breast.”
The man stopped, turned and stared.
“ Where did you pick that up ? ”
“ I see it before me now.”
“ Why, dash it, man, that was what my mother
always wore ! D’you tell me you can see her ? ”
“ No, she is gone.”
“ What was she like ? What was she doing ? ”
“ She was your mother. She said so. She was
weeping.”
“ Weeping ! My mother ! Why, she is in heaven
if ever a woman was. They don’t weep in heaven ! ”
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
109
“ Not in the imaginary heaven. They do in the
real heaven. It is only we who ever make them weep.
She left a message.”
“ Give it me ! ”
“The message was: ‘Oh, Jack ! Jack ! you are
drifting ever further from my reach.’ ”
The man made a contemptuous gesture.
“ I was a damned fool to let you have my name
when I made the appointment. You have been making
enquiries. You don’t take me in with your tricks.
I’ve had enough of it — more than enough ! ”
For the second time that morning the door was
slammed by an angry visitor.
“ He didn’t like his message,” Linden explained to
his wife. “ It was his poor mother. She is fretting
over him. Lord ! if folk only knew these things it
would do them more good than all the forms and
ceremonies.”
“ Well, Tom, it’s not your fault if they don’t,” his
wife answered. “ There are two women waiting to
see you. They have not an introduction but they seem
in great trouble.”
“ I’ve a bit of a headache. I haven’t got over last
night. Silas and I are the same in that. Our night’s
work finds us out next morning. I’ll just take these
and no more, for it is bad to send anyone sorrowin’
away if one can help it.”
The two women were shown in, both of them
austere figures dressed in black, one a stern-looking
person of fifty, the other about half that age.
“ I believe your fee is a guinea,” said the elder,
putting that sum upon the table.
“To those who can afford it,” Linden answered.
As a matter of fact, the guinea often went the other
way.
110
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Oh, yes, I can afford it,” said the woman. “ I
am in sad trouble and they told me maybe you could
help me.”
“Well, I will if I can. That’s what I am for.”
“ I lost my poor husband in the war — killed at
Ypres he was. Could I get in touch with him ? ”
“ You don’t seem to bring any influence with you.
I get no impression. I am sorry, but we can’t com¬
mand these things. I get the name Edmund. Was
that his name ? ”
“No.”
“ Or Albert ? ”
“ No.”
“ I am sorry, but it seems confused — cross vibra¬
tions, perhaps and a mix-up of messages like crossed
telegraph wires.”
“ Does the name Pedro help you ? ”
“ Pedro ! Pedro ! No, I get nothing. Was Pedro
an elderly man ? ”
“ No, not elderly.”
“ I can get no impression.”
“ It was about this girl of mine that I really wanted
advice. My husband would have told me what to do.
She has got engaged to a young man, a fitter by trade,
but there are one or two things against it and I want
to know what to do.”
“ Do give us some advice,” said the young woman,
looking at the medium with a hard eye.
“ I would if I could, my dear. Do you love this
man ? ”
“ Oh, yes, he’s all right.”
“ Well, if you don’t feel more than that about him,
I should leave him alone. Nothing but unhappiness
comes of such a marriage.”
“ Then you see unhappiness waiting for her ? ”
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
111
“ I see a good chance of it. I think she should be
careful.”
“ Do you see anyone else coming along ? ”
“ Everyone, man or woman, meets his mate some¬
time somewhere.”
“ Then she will get a mate ? ”
“ Most certainly she will.”
“ I wonder if I should have any family ? ” asked
the girl.
“ Nay, that’s more than I can say.”
“ And money — will she have money ? We are
down-hearted, Mr. Linden, and we want a little — — ”
At this moment there came a most surprising
interruption. The door flew open and little Mrs. Lin¬
den rushed into the room with pale face and blazing
eyes.
“ They are policewomen, Tom. I’ve had a warning
about them. It’s only just come. Get out of this
house, you pair of snivelling hypocrites. Oh, what a
fool ! What a fool I was not to recognise what you
were.”
The two women had risen.
“ Yes, you are rather late, Mrs. Linden,” said the
senior. “ The money has passed.”
“ Take it back ! Take it back ! It’s on the table.”
“ No, no, the money has passed. We have had our
fortune told. You will hear more of this, Mr. Lin¬
den.”
“ You brace of frauds ! You talk of frauds when
it is you who are the frauds all the time ! He would
not have seen you if it had not been for compassion.”
“ It is no use scolding us,” the woman answered.
“ We do our duty and we did not make the law. So
long as it is on the Statute Book we have to enforce it.
We must report the case at headquarters.”
112
THE LAND OF MIST
Tom Linden seemed stunned by the blow, but when
the policewomen had disappeared, he put his arms
round his weeping wife and consoled her as best he
might.
“ The typist at the police office sent down the warn¬
ing,” she said. “ Oh, Tom, it is the second time ! ”
she cried. “ It means gaol and hard labour for you.”
“ Well, dear, so long as we are conscious of having
done no wrong and of having done God’s work to the
best of our power, we must take what comes with a
good heart.”
“ But where were they ? How could they let you
down so ? Where was your guide ? ”
“ Yes, Victor,” said Tom Linden, shaking his head
at the air above him, “ where were you ? I’ve got a
crow to pick with you. You know, dear,” he added,
“ just as a doctor can never treat his own case, a
medium is very helpless when things come to his
own address. That’s the law. And yet I should
have known. I was feeling in the dark. I had no
inspiration of any sort. It was just a foolish pity and
sympathy that led me on when I had no sort of a real
message. Well, dear Mary, we will take what’s com¬
ing to us with a brave heart. Maybe they have not
enough to make a case, and maybe the beak is not as
ignorant as most of them. We’ll hope for the best.”
In spite of his brave words the medium was shaking
and quivering at the shock. His wife had put her
hands upon him and was endeavouring to steady him,
when Susan, the maid, who knew nothing of the
trouble, admitted a fresh visitor into the room. It
was none other than Edward Malone.
“ He can’t see you,” said Mrs. Linden, “ the
medium is ill. He will see no one this morning.”
But Linden had recognised his visitor.
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
113
“ This is Mr. Malone, my dear, of the Daily Ga¬
zette. He was with us last night. We had a good
sitting, had we not, sir ? ”
“ Marvellous ! ” said Malone. “ But what is
amiss ? ”
Both husband and wife poured out their sorrows.
“ What a dirty business ! ” cried Malone, with
disgust. “ I am sure the public does not realise how
this law is enforced, or there would be a row. This
agent-provocateur business is quite foreign to British
justice. But in any case, Linden, you are a real
medium. The law was made to suppress false ones.”
“ There are no real mediums in British law,” said
Linden ruefully. “ I expect the more real you are
the greater the offence. If you are a medium at all
and take money you are liable. But how can a
medium live if he does not take money ? It’s a man’s
whole work and needs all his strength. You can’t
be a carpenter all day and a first-class medium in the
evening.”
“ What a wicked law ! It seems to be deliberately
stifling all physical proofs of spiritual power.”
“ Yes, that is just what it is. If the Devil passed
a law it would be just that. It is supposed to be for
the protection of the public and yet no member of the
public has ever been known to complain. Every case is
a police trap. And yet the police know as well as you
or I that every Church charity garden-party has got
its clairvoyante or its fortune-teller.”
“ It does seem monstrous. What will happen
now ? ”
“ Well, I expect a summons will come along. Then
a police court case. Then fine or imprisonment. It’s
the second time, you see.”
114
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Well, your friends will give evidence for you and
we will have a good man to defend you.”
Linden shrugged his shoulders.
“ You never know who are your friends. They slip
away like water when it comes to the pinch.”
“ Well, I won’t for one,” said Malone, heartily.
“ Keep me in touch with what is going on. But I
called because I had something to ask you.”
“ I am sorry, but I am really not fit,” Linden held
out a quivering hand.
“ No, no, nothing psychic. I simply wanted to ask
you whether the presence of a strong sceptic would
stop all your phenomena ? ”
“ Not necessarily. But, of course, it makes every¬
thing more difficult. If they will be quiet and reason¬
able we can get results. But they know nothing,
break every law, and ruin their own sittings. There
was old Sherbank, the doctor, the other day. When
the raps came on the table he jumped up, put his hand
on the wall, and cried, ‘ Now then, put a rap on the
palm of my hand within five seconds.’ Because he
did not get it he declared it was all humbug and
stamped out of the room. They will not admit that
there are fixed laws in this as in everything else.”
“ Well, I must confess that the man I am thinking
of might be quite as unreasonable. It is the great
Professor Challenger.”
“ Oh, yes, I’ve heard he is a hard case.”
“Would you give him a sitting ?”
“Yes, if you desired it.”
“ He won’t come to you or to any place you name.
He imagines all sorts of wires and contrivances. You
might have to come down to his country house.”
“ I would not refuse if it might convert him.”
“ And when ? ”
A NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL
115
“ I can do nothing until this horrible affair is over.
It will take a month or two.”
“ Well, I will keep in touch with you till then.
When all is well again we shall make our plans and
see if we can bring these facts before him as they
have been brought before me. Meanwhile, let me say
how much I sympathise. We will form a committee
of your friends and all that can will surely be done.”
CHAPTER VII
IN WHICH THE NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL GETS WHAT THE
BRITISH LAW CONSIDERS TO BE HIS DESERTS
BEFORE we pursue further the psychic adventures
of our hero and heroine, it would be well to see
how the British law dealt with that wicked man, Mr.
Tom Linden.
The two policewomen returned in triumph to
Bardsley Square Station where Inspector Murphy,
who had sent them, was waiting for their report.
Murphy was a jolly-looking, red-faced, black-mous¬
tached man who had a cheerful, fatherly way with
women which was by no means justified by his age or
virility. He sat behind his official table, his papers
strewn in front of him.
“ Well, girls,” he said as the two women entered,
“ what luck ? ”
“ I think it’s a go, Mr. Murphy,” said the elder
policewoman. “We have the evidence you want.”
The Inspector took up a written list of questions
from his desk.
“ You ran it on the general lines that I suggested ? ”
he asked.
“Yes. I said my husband was killed at Ypres.”
“ What did he do ? ”
“ Well, he seemed sorry for me.”
“ That, of course, is part of the game. He’ll be
sorry for himself before he is through with it. He
116
TOM LINDEN AND THE LAW 117
didn’t say, ‘ You are a single woman and never had a
husband ? ’ ”
“No.”
“ Well, that’s one up against his spirits, is it not ?
That should impress the court. What more ? ”
“ He felt round for names. They were all wrong.”
“ Good ! ”
“ He believed me when I said that Miss Bellinger
here was my daughter.”
“ Good again ! Did you try the Pedro stunt ? ”
“Yes, he considered the name, but I got nothing.”
“ Ah, that’s a pity. But, anyhow, he did not know
that Pedro was your Alsatian dog. He considered the
name. That’s good enough. Make the jury laugh
and you have your verdict. Now about fortune¬
telling ? Did you do what I suggested ? ”
“ Yes, I asked about Amy’s young man. He did
not give much that was definite.”
“ Cunning devil ! He knows his business.”
“ But he did say that she would be unhappy if she
married him.”
“ Oh, he did, did he ? Well, if we spread that a
little we have got all we want. Now sit down and
dictate your report while you have it fresh. Then we
can go over it together and see how we can put it
best. Amy must write one, also.”
“ Very good, Mr. Murphy.”
“ Then we shall apply for the warrant. You see,
it all depends upon which magistrate it comes before.
There was Mr. Dalleret who let a medium off last
month. He is no use to us. And Mr. Lancing has
been mixed up with these people. Mr. Melrose is a
stiff materialist. We could depend on him and have
timed the arrest accordingly. It would never do to
fail to get our conviction.”
118
THE LAND OF MIST
“Couldn’t you get some of the public to corrob¬
orate ?”
The Inspector laughed.
“ We are supposed to be protecting the public, but
between you and me none of the public have ever yet
asked to be protected. There are no complaints.
Therefore it is left to us to uphold the law as best we
can. As long as it is there we have got to enforce it.
Well, good-bye, girls ! Let me have the report by
four o’clock.”
“ Nothing for us, I suppose ? ” said the elder
woman, with a smile.
“ You wait, my dear. If we get twenty-five pounds
fine it has got to go somewhere — Police Fund, of
course, but there may be something over. Anyhow,
you go and cough it up and then we shall see.”
Next morning a scared maid broke into Linden’s
modest study. “ Please, sir, it’s an officer.”
The man in blue followed hard at her heels.
“ Name of Linden ? ” said he, and handing a folded
sheet of foolscap he departed.
The stricken couple who spent their lives in bring¬
ing comfort to others were sadly in need of comfort
themselves. She put her arm round his neck while
they read the cheerless document:
To Thomas Linden of 40, Tullis Street, N.W.
Information has been laid this day by Patrick
Murphy, Inspector of Police, that you the said
Thomas Linden on the 10th day of November at
the above dwelling did profess to Henrietta
Dresser and to Amy Bellinger to tell fortunes
to deceive and impose on certain of His Majesty’s
subjects, to wit those above mentioned. You
TOM LINDEN AND THE LAW 119
are therefore summoned to appear before the
Magistrate of the Police Court in Bardsley
Square on Wednesday next, the 17th, at the hour
of 11 in the forenoon to answer to the said in¬
formation.
Dated the 10th day of November.
(Signed) B. J. Withers.
On the same afternoon Mailey called upon Malone
and they sat in consultation over this document.
Then they went together to see Summerway Jones, an
acute solicitor and an earnest student of psychic affairs.
Incidentally, he was a hard rider to hounds, a good
boxer, and a man who carried a fresh-air flavour into
the mustiest law chambers. He arched his eyebrows
over the summons.
“ The poor devil has not an earthly ! ” said he.
“ He’s lucky to have a summons. Usually they act
on a warrant. Then the man is carted right off, kept
in the cells all night, and tried next morning with no
one to defend him. The police are cute enough, of
course, to choose either a Roman Catholic or a ma¬
terialist as the magistrate. Then, by the beautiful
judgment of Chief Justice Lawrence — the first
judgment, I believe, that he delivered in that high
capacity — the profession of mediumship or wonder¬
working is in itself a legal crime, whether it be genuine
or no, so that no defence founded upon good results
has a look in. It’s a mixture of religious persecution
and police blackmail. As to the public they don’t care
a damn ! Why should they ? If they don’t want
their fortune told, they don’t go. The whole thing
is the most absolute bilge and a disgrace to our legis¬
lature.”
120
THE LAND OF MIST
“ I’ll write it up,” said Malone, glowing with Celtic
fire. “ What do you call the Act ? ”
“ Well, there are two Acts, each more putrid than
the other, and both passed long before Spiritualism
was ever heard of. There is the Witchcraft Act dat¬
ing from George the Second. That has become too
absurd, so they only use it as a second string. Then
there is the Vagrancy Act of 1824. It was passed to
control the wandering gipsy folk on the roadside, and
was never intended, of course, to be used like this.”
He hunted among his papers. “ Here is the beastly
thing. ‘ Every person professing to tell fortunes or
using any subtle craft, means or device to deceive and
impose on any of His Majesty’s subjects shall be
deemed a rogue and a vagabond,’ and so on and so
forth. The two Acts together would have roped in
the whole Early Christian movement just as surely as
the Roman persecution did.”
“ Lucky there are no lions now,” said Malone.
“ Jackasses ! ” cried Mailey. “ That’s the modern
substitute. But what are we to do ? ”
“ I’m damned if I know ! ” said the solicitor,
scratching his head. “ It’s perfectly hopeless ! ”
“ Oh, dash it all ! ” cried Malone, “ we can’t give it
up so easily. We know the man is an honest man.”
Mailey turned and grasped Malone’s hand.
“ I don’t know if you call yourself a Spiritualist
yet,” he said, “ but you are the kind of chap we want.
There are too many white-livered folk in our move¬
ment who fawn on a medium when all is well, and
desert him at the first breath of an accusation. But,
thank God ! there are a few stalwarts. There is
Brookes and Rodwin and Sir James Smith. We can
put up a hundred or two among us.”
“ Right-o ! ” said the solicitor, cheerily. “ If you
TOM LINDEN AND THE LAW 121
feel like that we will give you a run for your money.”
“ How about a K.C. ? ”
“ Well, they don’t plead in police courts. If you’ll
leave it in my hands I fancy I can do as well as anyone,
for I’ve had a lot of these cases. It will keep the costs
down, too.”
“ Well, we are with you. And we will have a few
good men at our back.”
‘‘ If we do nothing else we shall ventilate it,” said
Malone. “ I believe in the good old British public.
Slow and stupid, but sound at the core. They will not
stand for injustice if you can get the truth into their
heads.”
“ They damned well need trepanning before you can
get it there,” said the solicitor. “ Well, you do your
bit and I’ll do mine and we will see what comes to it.”
The fateful morning arrived and Linden found him¬
self in the dock facing a spruce, middle-aged man
with rat-trap jaws, Mr. Melrose, the redoubtable
police magistrate. Mr. Melrose had a reputation
for severity with fortune-tellers and all who foretold
the future, though he spent the intervals in his court
by reading up the sporting prophets, for he was an
ardent follower of the Turf, and his trim, fawn-col¬
oured coat and rakish hat were familiar objects at
every race meeting which was within his reach. He
was in no particularly good humour this morning as
he glanced at the charge-sheet and then surveyed the
prisoner. Mrs. Linden had secured a position below
the dock, and occasionally extended her hand to pat
that of the prisoner which rested on the edge. The
court was crowded and many of the prisoner’s clients
had attended to show their sympathy.
122
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Is this case defended ? ” asked Mr. Melrose.
“Yes, your worship,” said Summerway Jones.
“ May I, before it opens, make an objection ? ”
“ If you think it worth while, Mr. Jones.”
“ I beg to respectfully request your ruling before
the case is proceeded with. My client is not a vagrant,
but a respectable member of the community, living in
his own house, paying rates and taxes, and on the same
footing as every other citizen. He is now prosecuted
under the fourth section of the Vagrancy Act of 1824,
which is styled, ‘ An Act for punishing idle and dis¬
orderly persons, and rogues and vagabonds.’ The
Act was intended, as the words imply, to restrain law¬
less gipsies and others, who at that time infested the
country. I ask your Worship to rule that my client
is clearly not a person within the purview of this Act
or liable to its penalties.”
The Magistrate shook his head.
“ I fear, Mr. Jones, that there have been too many
precedents for the Act to be now interpreted in this
limited fashion. I will ask the solicitor prosecuting
on behalf of the Commissioner of Police to put for¬
ward his evidence.”
A little bull of a man with side-whiskers and a
raucous voice sprang to his feet.
“ I call Henrietta Dresser.”
The elder policewoman popped up in the box with
the alacrity of one who is used to it. She held an
open notebook in her hand.
“You are a policewoman, are you not ? ”
“Yes, sir.”
“ I understand that you watched the prisoner’s
home the day before you called on him ? ”
“ Yes, sir.”
“ How many people went in ? ”
TOM LINDEN AND THE LAW 123
“ Fourteen, sir.”
“ Fourteen people. And I believe the prisoner’s
average fee is ten and sixpence.”
“ Yes.”
“ Seven pounds in one day ! Pretty good wages
when many an honest man is content with five shill¬
ings.”
“ These were the tradespeople ! ” cried Linden.
“ I must ask you not to interrupt. You are already
very efficiently represented,” said the Magistrate
severely.
“ Now, Henrietta Dresser,” continued the prose¬
cutor, wagging his pince-nez. “ Let us hear what
occurred when you and Amy Bellinger visited the
prisoner.”
The policewoman gave an account which was in the
main true, reading it from her book. She was not a
married woman, but the medium had accepted her
statement that she was. He had fumbled with several
names and had seemed greatly confused. The name
of a dog — Pedro— had been submitted to him, but he
had not recognised it as such. Finally, he had an¬
swered questions as the future of her alleged daughter,
who was, in fact, no relation to her, and had foretold
that she would be unhappy in her marriage.
“ Any questions, Mr. Jones ? ” asked the Magis¬
trate.
“ Did you come to this man as one who needed con¬
solation ? And did he attempt to give it ? ”
“ I suppose you might put it so.”
“ You professed deep grief, I understand.”
“ I tried to give that impression.”
“ You do not consider that to be hypocrisy ? ”
“ I did what was my duty.”
124
THE LAND OF MIST
“ You saw no signs of psychic power, or anything
abnormal ? ” asked the prosecutor.
“ No, he seemed a very nice, ordinary sort of man.”
Amy Bellinger was the next witness. She appeared
with her notebook in her hand.
“ May I ask, your worship, whether it is in order
that these witnesses should read their evidence ?”
asked Mr. Jones.
“ Why not ? ” queried the Magistrate. “ We de¬
sire the exact facts, do we not ? ”
“ We do. Possibly Mr. Jones does not,” said the
prosecuting solicitor.
“ It is clearly a method of securing that the evi¬
dence of these two witnesses shall be in accord,” said
Jones. “ I submit that these accounts are carefully
prepared and collated.”
“ Naturally, the police prepare their case,” said the
Magistrate. “ I do not see that you have any griev¬
ance, Mr. Jones. Now, witness, let us hear your
evidence.”
It followed on the exact lines of the other.
“ You asked questions about your fiance ? You
had no fiance,” said Mr. Jones.
“ That is so.”
“ In fact, you both told a long sequence of lies ? ”
“ With a good object in view.”
“ You thought the end justifies the means ? ”
“ I carried out my instructions.”
“ Which were given you beforehand ? ”
“ Yes, we were told what to ask.”
“ I think,” said the Magistrate, “ that the police¬
women have given their evidence very fairly and well.
Have you any witnesses for the defence, Mr.
Jones ? ”
“ There are a number of people in court, your wor-
TOM LINDEN AND THE LAW 125
ship, who have received great benefit from the rae-
diumship of the prisoner. I have subpoenaed one
woman who was, by her own account, saved from
suicide that very morning by what he told her. I
have another man who was an atheist, and had lost all
belief in future life. He was completely converted by
his experience of psychic phenomena. I can produce
men of the highest eminence in science and literature
who will testify to the real nature of Mr. Linden’s
powers.”
The Magistrate shook his head.
“You must know, Mr. Jones, Ahat such evidence
would be quite beside the question. It has been
clearly laid down by the ruling of the Lord Chief
Justice and others that the law of this country does not
recognise supernatural powers of any sort whatever,
and that a pretence of such powers where payment is
involved constitutes a crime in itself. Therefore your
suggestion that you should call witnesses 'could not
possibly lead to anything save a wasting of the time
of the court. At the same time, I am, of course, ready
to listen to any observations which you may care to
make after the solicitor for the prosecution has
spoken.”
“ Might I venture to point out, your worship,” said
Jones, “ that such a ruling would mean the condemna¬
tion of any sacred or holy person of whom we have
any record, since even holy persons have to live, and
have therefore to receive money.”
“ If your refer to Apostolic times, Mr. Jones,” said
the Magistrate sharply, “ I can only remind you that
the Apostolic age is past and also that Queen Anne is
dead. Such an argument is hardly worthy of your
intelligence. Now, sir, if you have anything to
add . .
126
THE LAND OF MIST
Thus encouraged the prosecutor made a short
address, stabbing the air at intervals with his pince-
nez as if every stab punctured afresh all claims of the
spirit. He pictured the destitution among the work¬
ing-classes, and yet charlatans, by advancing wicked
and blasphemous claims, were able to earn a rich
living. That they had real powers was, as had been
observed, beside the question, but even that excuse
was shattered by the fact that these policewomen, who
had discharged an unpleasant duty in a most ex¬
emplary way, had received nothing but nonsense in
return for their money. Was it likely that other
clients fared any better ? These parasites were in¬
creasing in number, trading upon the finer feelings
of bereaved parents, and it was high time that some
exemplary punishment should warn them that they
would be wise to turn their hands to some more honest
trade.
Mr. Summerway Jones replied as best he might.
He began by pointing out that the Acts were being
used for a purpose for which they were never intended.
(“That point has been already considered!”
snapped the Magistrate.) The whole position was
open to criticism. The convictions were secured by
evidence from agents-provocateurs, who, if any crime
had been committed, were obviously inciters to it and
also participants. The fines obtained were often de¬
flected for purposes in which the police had a direct
interest.
“ Surely, Mr. Jones, you do not mean to cast a re¬
flection upon the honesty of the police ! ”
The police were human, and were naturally inclined
to stretch a point where their own interests were
affected. All these cases were artificial. There was no
record at any time of any real complaint from the
TOM LINDEN AND THE LAW 127
public or any demand for protection. There were
frauds in every profession, and if a man deliberately
invested and lost a guinea in a false medium he had
no more right to protection than the man who invested
his money in a bad company on the stock market.
Whilst the police were wasting time upon such cases,
and their agents were weeping crocodile tears in the
character of forlorn mourners, many other branches
of real crime received far less attention than they
deserved. The law was quite arbitrary in its action.
Every big garden-party, even, as he had been in¬
formed, every police fete was incomplete without its
fortune-teller or palmist. Some years ago the Daily
Mail had raised an outcry against fortune-tellers.
That great man, the late Lord Northcliffe, had been
put in the box by the defence, and it had been shown
that one of his other papers was running a palmistry
column, and that the fees received were divided equally
between the palmist and the proprietors. He men¬
tioned this in no spirit which was derogatory to the
memory of this great man, but merely as an example
of the absurdity of the law as it was now administered.
Whatever might be the individual opinion of members
of that court, it was incontrovertible that a large
number of intelligent and useful citizens regarded
this power of mediumship as a remarkable manifesta¬
tion of the power of spirit, making for the great im¬
provement of the race. Was it not a most fatal policy^
in these days of materialism to crush down by
law that which in its higher manifestation might work
for the regeneration of mankind ? As to the un¬
doubted fact that information received by the police¬
women was incorrect and that their lying statements
were not detected by the medium, it was a psychic law
that harmonious conditions were essential for true
128
THE LAND OF MIST
results, and that deceit on one side produced con¬
fusion on the other. If the court would for a moment
adopt the Spiritualistic hypothesis, they would realise
how absurd it would be to expect that angelic hosts
would descend in order to answer the questions of two
mercenary and hypocritical inquirers.
Such, in a short synopsis, was the general line of
Mr. Summerway Jones’ defence which reduced Mrs.
Linden to tears and threw the magistrate’s clerk into
a deep slumber. The Magistrate himself rapidly
brought the matter to a conclusion.
“ Your quarrel, Mr. Jones, seems to be with the
law, and that is outside my competence. I admin¬
ister it as I find it, though I may remark that I am
entirely in agreement with it. Such men as the de¬
fendant are the noxious fungi which collect on a cor¬
rupt society, and the attempt to compare their
vulgarities with the holy men of old, or to claim similar
gifts, must be reprobated by all right-thinking men.
“ As to you, Linden,” he added, fixing his stern eyes
upon the prisoner, “ I fear that you are a hardened
offender since a previous conviction has not altered
your ways. I sentence you, therefore, to two months’
hard labour without option of a fine.”
There was a scream from Mrs. Linden.
“ Good-bye, dear, don’t fret,” said the medium,
glancing over the side of the dock. An instant later
he had been hurried down to the cell.
Summerway Jones, Mailey and Malone met in the
hall, and Mailey volunteered to escort the poor
stricken woman home.
“ What had he ever done but bring comfort to
all ? ” she moaned. “ Is there a better man living in
the whole great City ■ i o don ? ”
“I don’t think th t, > > » more useful one,” said
TOM LINDEN AND THE LAW 12*
Mailey. “ I’ll venture to say that the whole of Crock-
ford’s Directory with the Archbishops at their head
could not prove the things of religion as I have seen
Tom Linden prove them, or convert an atheist as I
have seen Linden convert him.”
“ It’s a shame ! A damned shame !” said Malone,
hotly.
“ The touch about vulgarity was funny,” said Jones.
“ I wonder if he thinks the Apostles were very culti¬
vated people. Well, I did my best. I had no hopes,
and it has worked out as I thought. It is pure waste
of time.”
“ Not at all,” Malone answered. “ It has venti¬
lated an evil. There were reporters in court. Surely
some of them have some sense. They will note the
injustice.”
“ Not they,” said Mailey. “ The Press is hope¬
less. My God, what a responsibility these people
take on themselves, and how little they guess the price
that each will pay ! I know. I have spoken with
them while they were paying it.”
“ Well, I for one will speak out,” said Malone,
“ and I believe others will also. The Press is more in¬
dependent and intelligent than you seem to think.”
But Mailey was right, after all. When he had left
Mrs. Linden in her lonely home and had reached
Fleet Street once more, Malone bought a Planet. As
he opened it a scare head-line met his eye :
IMPOSTOR IN THE POLICE COURT
Dog Mistaken for Man .
WHO WAS PEDRO?
Exemplary Sentence.
130
THE LAND OF MIST
He crumpled the paper up in his hand.
“ No wonder these Spiritualists feel bitterly,” he
thought. “ They have good cause.”
Yes, poor Tom Linden had a bad press. He went
down into his miserable cell amid universal objurga¬
tion. The Planet, an evening paper which depended
for its circulation upon the sporting forecasts of Cap¬
tain Touch-and-go, remarked upon the absurdity of
forecasting the future. Honest John, a weekly journal
which had been mixed up with some of the greatest
frauds of the century, was of opinion that the dis¬
honesty of Linden was a public scandal. A rich
country rector wrote to The Times to express his
indignation that anyone should profess to sell the
gifts of the spirit. The Churchman remarked that
such incidents arose from the growing infidelity, while
the Freethinker saw in them a reversion to supersti¬
tion. Finally Mr. Maskelyne showed the public, to
the great advantage of his box office, exactly how the
swindle was perpetrated. So for a few days Tom
Linden had what the French call a “succes d’execra-
tion.” Then the world moved on and he was left to
his fate.
CHAPTER virr
IN WHICH THREE INVESTIGATORS COME UPON A DARK
SOUL
LORD ROXTON had returned from Central
African heavy game shooting, and had at once
carried out a series of Alpine ascents which had satis¬
fied and surprised everyone except himself.
“ Top of the Alps is becomin’ a perfect bear¬
garden,” said he. “ Short of Everest there don’t seem
to be any decent privacy left.”
His advent into London was acclaimed by a dinner
given in his honour at the Travellers’ by the Heavy
Game Society. The occasion was private and there
were no reporters, but Lord Roxton’s speech was
fixed verbatim in the minds of all his audience and has
been imperishably preserved. He writhed for twenty
minutes under the flowery and eulogistic periods of
the president, and rose himself in the state of con¬
fused indignation which the Briton feels when he is
publicly approved. “ Oh, I say ! By Jove ! What !”
was his oration, after which he resumed his seat and
perspired profusely.
Malone was first aware of Lord Roxton’s return
through McArdle, the crabbed old red-headed news
editor, whose bald dome projected further and further
from its ruddy fringe as the years still found him
slaving at the most grindingof tasks. He retained his
keen scent of what was good copy, and it was this
sense of his which caused him one winter morning to
131
132
THE LAND OF MIST
summon Malone to his presence. He removed the
long glass tube which he used as a cigarette-holder
from his lips, and he blinked through his big round
glasses at his subordinate.
“ You know that Lord Roxton is back in London ? ”
“ I had not heard.”
“ Aye, he’s back. Dootless you’ve heard that he
was wounded in the war. He led a small column in
East Africa and made a wee war of his own till he got
an elephant bullet through his chest. Oh, he’s done
fine since then, or he couldn’t be climbin’ these moun¬
tains. He’s a deevil of a man and aye stirring up
something new.”
“ What is the latest ? ” asked Malone, eyeing a
slip of paper which McArdle was waving between his
finger and thumb.
“ Well, that’s where he impinges on you. I was
thinking maybe you could hunt in couples, and there
would be copy in it. There’s a leaderette in the
Evening Standard He handed it over. It ran
thus :
“A quaint advertisement in the columns of a
contemporary shows that the famous Lord John
Roxton, third son of the Duke of Pomfret, is
seeking fresh worlds to conquer. Having ex¬
hausted the sporting adventures of this terrestrial
globe, he is now turning to those of the dim, dark
and dubious regions of psychic research. He is in
the market apparently for any genuine specimen
of a haunted house, and is open to receive infor¬
mation as to any violent or dangerous manifesta¬
tion which called for investigation. As Lord
John Roxton is a man of resolute character and
one of the best revolver shots in England, we
A DARK SOUL
133
would warn any practical joker that he would be
well-advised to stand aside and leave this matter
to those who are said to be as impervious to
bullets as their supporters are to common sense.”
McArdle gave his dry chuckle at the concluding
words.
“ I’m thinking they are getting pairsonal there,
friend Malone, for if you are no a supporter, you’re
well on the way. But are you no of the opeenion
that this chiel and you between you might put up a
spook and get two racy columns off him ? ”
“Well, I can see Lord Roxton,” said Malone.
“ He’s still, I suppose, in his old rooms in the Albany.
I would wish to call in any ca&e, so I can open this
up as well.”
Thus it was that in the late afternoon just as the
murk of London broke into dim circles of silver, the
pressman found himself once more walking down Vigo
Street and accosting the porter at the dark entrance of
the old-fashioned chambers. Yes, Lord John Roxton
was in, but a gentleman was with him. He would
take a card. Presently he returned with word that in
spite of the previous visitor, Lord Roxton would see
Malone at once. An instant later, he had been ushered
into the old luxurious rooms with their trophies of
war and of the chase. The owner of them with
outstreched hand was standing at the door, long, thin,
austere, with the same gaunt, whimsical, Don Quixote
face as of old. There was no change save that he was
more aquiline, and his eyebrows jutted more thickly
over his reckless, restless eyes.
“ Hullo, young fellah ! ” he cried. “ I was hopin’
you’d draw this old covert once more. I was cornin’
down to the office to look you up. Come in ! Come
134 THE LAND OF MIST
in ! Let me introduce you to the Reverend Charles
Mason.”
A very tall, thin clergyman, who was coiled up in a
large basket chair, gradually unwound himself and
held out a bony hand to the newcomer. Malone was
aware of two very earnest and human grey eyes look¬
ing searchingly into his, and of a broad, welcoming
smile which disclosed a double row of excellent teeth.
It was a worn and weary face, the tired face of the
spiritual fighter, but it was very kindly and compan¬
ionable, none the less. Malone had heard of the man,
a Church of England vicar, who had left his model
parish and the church which he had built himself in
order to preach freely the doctrines of Christianity,
with the new psychic knowledge super-added.
“ Why, I never seem to get away from the Spir¬
itualists ! ” he exclaimed.
“ You never will, Mr. Malone,” said the lean clergy¬
man, chuckling. “ The world never will until it has
absorbed this new knowledge which God has sent.
You can’t get away from it. It is too big. At the
present moment in this great city there is not a place
where men or women meet that it does not come up.
And yet you would not know it from the Press.”
“ Well, you can’t level that reproach at the Daily
Gazette,” said Malone. “ Possibly you may have read
my own descriptive articles.”
“ Yes, I read them. They are at least better than
the awful sensational nonsense which the London
Press usually serves up, save when they ignore it al¬
together. To read a paper like The Times you would
never know that this vital movement existed at all.
The only editorial allusion to it that I can ever re¬
member was in a leading article when the great paper
announced that it would believe in it when it found it
A DARK SOUL
135
could, by means of it, pick out more winners on a
race-card than by other means.”
“ Doosed useful, too,” said Lord Roxton. “ It’s
just what I should have said myself. What ! ”
The clergyman’s face was grave and he shook his
head.
“ That brings me back to the object of my visit,”
he said. He turned to Malone. “ I took the liberty
of calling upon Lord Roxton in connection with his
advertisement to say that if he went on such a quest
with a good intention, no better work could be found
in the world, but if he did it out of a love of sport,
following some poor earth-bound soul in the same
spirit as he followed the white rhinoceros of the Lido,
he might be playing with fire.”
“ Well, padre, I’ve been playin’ with fire all my life
and that’s nothin’ new. What I mean — if you want
me to look at this ghost business from the religious
angle, there’s nothin’ doin’, for the Church of Eng¬
land that I was brought up in fills my very modest
need. But if it’s got a spice of danger, as you say,
then it’s worth while. What ! ”
The Rev. Charles Mason smiled his kindly, tooth¬
some grin.
“ Incorrigible, is he not ? ” he said to Malone.
“ Well, I can only wish you a fuller comprehension of
the subject.” He rose as if to depart.
“ Wait a bit, padre ! ” cried Lord Roxton, hur¬
riedly. “ When I’m explorin’, I begin by ropin’ in a
friendly native. I expect you’re just the man. Won’t
you come with me ? ”
“ Where to ? ”
“ Well, sit down and I’ll tell you.” He rummaged
among a pile of letters on his desk. “ Fine selection
of spooks ! ” he said. “ I got on the track of over
136
THE LAND OF MIST
twenty by the first post. This is an easy winner,
though. Read it for yourself. Lonely house, man
driven mad, tenants boltin’ in the night, horrible
spectre. Sounds all right — what ! ”
The clergyman read the letter with puckered brows.
“ It seems a bad case,” said he.
“ Well, suppose you come along. What ! Maybe
you can help clear it up.”
The Rev. Mr. Mason pulled out a pocket-almanac.
“ I have a service for ex-Service men on Wednesday,
and a lecture the same evening.”
“ But we could start to-day.”
“ It’s a long way.”
“ Only Dorsetshire. Three hours.”
“ What is your plan ? ”
“ Well, I suppose a night in the house should do
it.”
“ If there is any poor soul in trouble it becomes a
duty. Very well, I will come.”
“ And surely there is room for me,” pleaded
Malone.
“ Of course there is, young fellah ! What I mean
— I expect that old, red-headed bird at the office sent
you round with no other purpose. Ah, I thought so.
Well, you can write an adventure that is not perfect
bilge for a change — what ! There’s a train from
Victoria at eight o’clock. We can meet there, and I’ll
have a look in at old man Challenger as I pass.”
They dined together in the train and after dinner
reassembled in their first-class carriage, which is the
snuggest mode of travel which the world can show.
Roxton, behind a big black cigar, was full of his visit
to Challenger.
“ The old dear is the same as ever. Bit my head
off once or twice in his own familiar way. Talked un-
A DARK SOUL
137
adulterated tripe. Says I’ve got brain-softenin’ if I
could think there was such a thing as a real spook.
* When you’re dead you’re dead.’ That’s the old
man’s cheery slogan. Surveyin’ his contemporaries, he
said, extinction was a doosed good thing ! ‘ It’s the
only hope of the world,’ said he. ‘ Fancy the awful
prospect if they survived.’ Wanted to give me a bottle
of chlorine to chuck at the ghost. I told him that if
my automatic was not a spook-stopper, nothin’ else
would serve. Tell me, padre, is this the first time
you’ve been on Solfari after this kind of game ? ”
“ You treat the matter too lightly, Lord John,”
said the clergyman, gravely. “You have clearly had
no experience of it. In answer to your question I may
say that I have several times tried to help in similar
cases.”
“ And you take it seriously ? ” asked Malone, mak¬
ing notes for his article.
“ Very, very seriously.”
“ What do you think these influences are ? ”
“ I am no authority upon the general question. You
know Algernon Mailey, the barrister, do you not ?
He could give you facts and figures. I approach the
subject rather perhaps from the point of view of in¬
stinct and emotion. I remember Mailey lecturing on
Professor Bozzano’s book on ghosts where over five
hundred well-authenticated instances were given, every
one of them sufficient to establish an a priori case.
There is Flammarion, too. You can’t laugh away
evidence of that kind.”
“ I’ve read Bozzano and Flammarion, too,” said
Malone, “ but it is your own experience and conclu¬
sions that I want.”
“ Well, if you quote me, remember that I do not
look on myself as a great authority on psychic research.
138
THE LAND OF MIST
Wiser brains than mine may come along and give
some other explanation. Still, what I have seen has
led me to certain conclusions. One of them is to think
that there is some truth in the theosophical idea of
shells.”
“ What is that ? ”
“ They imagined that all spirit bodies near the earth
were empty shells or husks from which the real entity
had departed. Now, of course, we know that a gen¬
eral statement of that sort is nonsense, for we could
not get the glorious communications which we do get
from anything but high intelligences. But we also
must beware of generalisations. They are not all
high intelligences. Some are so low that I think the
creature is purely external and is an appearance rather
than a reality.”
“ But why should it be there ? ”
“ Yes, that is the question. It is usually allowed
that there is the natural body, as St. Paul called it,
which is dissolved at death, and the etheric or spiritual
body which survives and functions upon an etheric
plane. Those are the essential things. But we may
really have as many coats as an onion and there may
be a mental body which may shed itself at any spot
where great mental or emotional strain has been ex¬
perienced. It may be a dull automatic simulacrum
and yet carry something of our appearance and
thoughts. ”
“ Well, ” said Malone, “ that would to some extent
get over the difficulty, for I could never imagine that
a murderer or his victim could spend whole centuries
re-acting the old crime. What would be the sense
of it?”
“ Quite right, young fellah, ” said Lord Roxton.
* There was a pal of mine, Archie Soames, the gentle-
A DARK SOUL
139
man Jock, who had an old place in Berkshire. Well,
Nell Gwynne had lived there once, and he was ready
to swear he met her a dozen times in the passage.
Archie never flinched at the big jump at the Grand
National, but, by Jove! he flinched at those passages
after dark. Doosed fine woman she was and all that,
but dash it all! What I mean — one has to draw the
line- — what ! ”
“ Quite so ! ” the clergyman answered. “ You can’t
imagine that the real soul of a vivid personality like
Nell could spend centuries walking those passages.
But if by chance she had ate her heart out in that
house, brooding and fretting, one could think that she
might have cast a shell and left some thought-image
of herself behind her.”
“ You said you had experiences of your own. ”
“ I had one before ever I knew anything of Spirit¬
ualism. I hardly expect that you will believe me, but
I assure you it is true. I was a very young curate up in
the north. There was a house in the village which
had a poltergeist, one of those very mischievous in¬
fluences which cause so much trouble. I volunteered
to exorcise it. We have an official form of exorcism
in the Church, you know, so I thought that I was well-
armed. I stood in the drawing-room which was the
centre of the disturbances, with all the family on their
knees beside me, and I read the service. What do you
think happened ? ”
Mason’s gaunt face broke into a sweetly humorous
laugh. “Just as I reached Amen, when the creature
should have been slinking away abashed, the big bear¬
skin hearthrug stood up on end and simply enveloped
me. I am ashamed to say that I was out of that house
in two jumps. It was then that I learned that no
140
THE LAND OF MIST
formal religious proceeding has any effect at all.”
“ Then what has ? ”
“ Well, kindness and reason may do something.
You see, they vary greatly. Some of these earth-
bound or earth-interested creatures are neutral, like
these simulacra or shells that I speak of. Others are
essentially good like these monks of Glastonbury, who
have manifested so wonderfully of late years and are
recorded by Bligh Bond. They are held to earth by
a pious memory. Some are mischievous children like
the poltergeists. And some — only a few, I hope —
are deadly beyond words, strong, malevolent creatures
too heavy with matter to rise above our earth plane —
so heavy with matter that their vibrations may be low
enough to affect the human retina and to become
visible. If they have been cruel, cunning brutes in
life, they are cruel and cunning still with more power
to hurt. It is evil monsters of this kind who are let
loose by our system of capital punishment, for they
die with unused vitality which may be expended upon
revenge. ”
“ This Dryfont spook has a doosed bad record,”
said Lord Roxton.
“ Exactly. That is why I disapprove of levity. He
seems to me to be the very type of the creature I
speak of. Just as an octopus may have his den in
some ocean cave, and come floating out a silent image
of horror, to attack a swimmer, so I picture such a
spirit lurking in the dark of the house which he curses
by his presence, and ready to float out upon all whom
he can injure.”
Malone’s jaw began to drop.
“ I say ! ” he exclaimed, “ have we no protection ? ”
“ Yes, I think we have. If we had not, such a
creature could devastate the earth. Our protection
A DARK SOUL
141
is that there are white forces as well as dark ones.
We may call them ‘ guardian angels ’ as the Catholics
do, or ‘ guides ’ or 1 controls,’ but whatever you call
them, they really do exist and they guard us from evil
on the spiritual plane.”
“ What about the chap who was driven mad, padre?
Where was your guide when the spook put the rug
around you ? What ? ”
“ The power of our guards may depend upon our
own worthiness. Evil may always win for a time.
Good wins in the end. That’s my experience in life.”
Lord Roxton shook his head.
“ If good wins, then it runs a doosed long waitin’
race, and most of us never live to see the finish. Look
at those rubber devils that I had a scrap with up the
Putomayo River. Where are they? What! Mostly
in Paris havin’ a good time. And the poor niggers
they murdered. What about them ? ”
“Yes, we need faith sometimes. We have to
remember that we don’t see the end. ‘ To be continued
in our next ’ is the conclusion of every life-story.
That’s where the enormous value of the other world
accounts come in. They give us at least one chapter
more.”
“ Where can I get that chapter ? ” asked Malone.
“ There are many wonderful books, though the
world has not yet learned to appreciate them — records
of the life beyond. I remember one incident — you
may take it as a parable, if you like — but it is really
more than that. The dead rich man pauses before the
lovely dwelling. His sad guide draws him away. ‘ It
is not for you. It is for your gardener.’ He shows
him a wretched shack. ‘ You gave us nothing to build
with. It was the best that we could do.’ That may
142 THE LAND OF MIST
be the next chapter in the story of your rubber
millionaires.”
Roxton laughed grimly.
“ I gave some of them a shack that was six foot long
and two foot deep,” said he. “ No good shakin’ your
head, padre. What I mean — I don’t love my neigh¬
bour as myself, and never shall. I hate some of ’em
like poison.”
“ Well, we should hate sin, and for my own part, I
have never been strong enough to separate sin from
the sinner. How can I preach when I am as human
and weak as anyone ? ”
“ Why, that’s the only preachin’ I could listen to,”
said Lord Roxton. “ The chap in the pulpit is over
my head. If he comes down to my level I have some
use for him. Well, it strikes me we won’t get much
sleep to-night. We’ve just an hour before we reach
Dryfont. Maybe we had better use it.”
It was past eleven o’clock of a cold, frosty night
when the party reached their destination. The station
of the little watering-place was almost deserted, but a
small, fat man in a fur overcoat ran forward to meet
them, and greeted them warmly.
“ I am Mr. Belchamber, owner of the house. How
do you do, gentlemen ? I got your wire, Lord Roxton,
and everything is in order. It is indeed kind of you
to come down. If you can do anything to ease my
burden I shall indeed be grateful.”
Mr. Belchamber led them across to the little Station
Hotel where they partook of sandwiches and coffee,
which he had thoughtfully ordered. As they ate he
told them something of his troubles.
“ It isn’t as if I was a rich man, gentleman. I am a
retired grazier and all my savings are in three houses.
That is one of them, the Villa Maggiore. Yes, I got
A DARK SOUL
143
it cheap, that’s true. But how could I think there was
anything in this story of the mad doctor ? ”
“ Let’s have the yarn,” said Lord Roxton, munch¬
ing at a sandwich.
“ He was there away back in Queen Victoria’s time.
I’ve seen him myself. A long, stringy, dark-faced
kind of man, with a round back and a queer, shuffling
way of walking. They say he had been in India all
his life, and some thought he was hiding from some
crime, for he would never show his face in the village
and seldom came out till after dark. He broke a
dog’s leg with a stone, and there was some talk of
having him up for it, but the people were afraid of
him and no one would prosecute. The little boys
would run past, for he would sit glowering and gloom¬
ing in the front window. Then one day he didn’t take
the milk in, and the same the next day, and so they
broke the door open, and he was dead in his bath —
but it was a bath of blood for he had opened the
veins of his arm. Tremayne was his name. No one
here forgets it.”
“ And you bought the house ? ”
“ Well, it was re-papered and painted and fumi¬
gated, and done up outside. You’d have said it was
a new house. Then, I let it to Mr. Jenkins of the
Brewery. Three days he was in it. I lowered the
rent, and Mr. Beale, the retired grocer, took it. It
was he who went mad — clean mad — after a week
of it. And I’ve had it on my hands ever since — sixty
pounds out of my income, and taxes to pay on it, into
the bargain. If you gentlemen can do anything, for
God’s sake do it ! If not, it would pay me to burn it
down.”
The Villa Maggiore stood about half a mile from
the town on the slope of a low hill. Mr. Belchamber
144
THE LAND OF MIST
conducted them so far, and even up to the hall door.
It was certainly a depressing place, with a huge, gam¬
brel roof which came down over the upper windows
and nearly obscured them. There was a half-moon,
and by its light they could see that the garden was a
tangle of scraggy, winter vegetation, which had, in
some places, almost overgrown the path. It was all
very still, very gloomy and very ominous.
“The door is not locked,” said the owner. “You
will find some chairs and a table in the sitting-room
on the left of the hall. I had a fire lit there, and there
is a bucketful of coals. You will be pretty comfort¬
able, I hope. You won’t blame me for not coming in,
but my nerves are not so good as they were.” With
a few apologetic words, the owner slipped away, and
they were alone with their task.
Lord Roxton had brought a strong electric torch.
On opening the mildewed door, he flashed a tunnel of
light down the passage, uncarpeted and dreary, which
ended in a broad, straight, wooden staircase leading
to the upper floor. There were doors on either side
of the passage. That on the right led into a large,
cheerless, empty room, with a derelict lawn-mower
in one corner and a pile of old books and journals.
There was a corresponding room upon the left which
was a much more cheery apartment. A brisk fire
burned in the grate, there were three comfortable
chairs, and a deal table with a water carafe, a bucket
of coals, and a few other amenities. It was lit by a
large oil-lamp. The clergyman and Malone drew up
to the fire, for it was very cold, but Lord Roxton com¬
pleted his preparations. From a little hand-bag he
extracted his automatic pistol, which he put upon the
mantelpiece. Then he produced a packet of candles,
placing two of them in the hall. Finally he took a
A DARK SOUL 145
ball of worsted and tied strings of it across the back
passage and across the opposite door.
“ We will have one look round,” said he, when his
preparations were complete. “ Then we can wait
down here and take what comes.”
The upper passage led at right angles to left and
right from the top of the straight staircase. On the
right were two large, bare, dusty rooms, with the
wall-paper hanging in strips and the floor littered with
scattered plaster. On the left was a single large room
in the same derelict condition. Out of it was the
bathroom of tragic memory, with the high, zinc bath
still in position. Great splotches of red lay within it,
and though they were only rust stains, they seemed
to be terrible reminders from the past. Malone was
surprised to see the clergyman stagger and support
himself against the door. His face was ghastly white
and there was moisture on his brow. His two com¬
rades supported him down the stairs, and he sat for
a little, as one exhausted, before he spoke.
“ Did you two really feel nothing ? ” he asked.
“ The fact is that I am mediumistic myself and very
open to psychic impressions. This particular one was
horrible beyond description.”
“ What did you get, padre ? ”
“ It is difficult to describe these things. It was a
sinking of my heart, a feeling of utter desolation. All
my senses were affected. My eyes went dim. I smelt
a terrible odour of putrescence. The strength seemed
to be sapped out of me. Believe me, Lord Roxton,
it is no light thing which we are facing to-night.”
The sportsman was unusually grave. “ So I begin
to think,” said he. “ Do you think you are fit for the
job ? ”
“ I am sorry to have been so weak,” Mr. Mason
146
THE LAND OF MIST
answered. “ I shall certainly see the thing through.
The worse the case, the more need for my help. I am
all right now,” he added, with his cheery laugh, draw¬
ing an old charred briar from his pocket. “ This is
the best doctor for shaken nerves. I’ll sit here and
smoke till I’m wanted.”
“ What shape do you expect it to take ? ” asked
Malone of Lord Roxton.
“ Well, it is something you can see. That’s
certain.”
“ That’s what I cannot understand, in spite of all
my reading,” said Malone. “ These authorities are all
agreed that there is a material basis, and that this
material basis is drawn from the human body. Call
it ectoplasm, or what you like, it is human in origin,
is it not ? ”
“ Certainly,” Mason answered.
“ Well, then are we to suppose that this Dr. Tre-
mayne builds up his own appearance by drawing stuff
from me and you ? ”
“ I think, so far as I understand it, that in most
cases a spirit does so. I believe that when the
spectator feels that he goes cold, that his hair rises
and the rest of it, he is really conscious of this draft
upon his own vitality which may be enough to make
him faint or even to kill him. Perhaps he was draw¬
ing on me then.”
“ Suppose we are not mediumistic ? Suppose we
give out nothing ? ”
“ There is a very full case that I read lately,” Mr.
Mason answered. “ It was closely observed — re¬
ported by Professor Neillson of Iceland. In that case
the evil spirit used to go down to an unfortunate pho¬
tographer in the town, draw his supplies from him, and
A DARK SOUL
147
then come back and use them. He would openly say,
‘ Give me time to get down to So-and-so. Then I will
show you what I can do.’ He was a most formidable
creature and they had great difficulty in mastering
him.”
“ Strikes me, young fellah, we have taken on a
larger contract than we knew,” said Lord Roxton.
“ Well, we’ve done what we could. The passage is
well lit. No one can come at us except down the stair
without breaking the worsted. There is nothing more
we can do except just to wait.”
So they waited. It was a weary time. A carriage
clock had been placed on the discoloured wooden
mantelpiece, and slowly its hands crept on from one to
two and from two to three. Outside an owl was hoot¬
ing most dismally in the darkness. The villa was on a
by-road, and there was no human sound to link them
up with life. The padre lay dozing in his chair.
Malone smoked incessantly. Lord Roxton turned
over the pages of a magazine. There were the occa¬
sional strange tappings and creakings which come in
the silence of the night. Nothing else until
Someone came down the stair.
There could not be a doubt of it. It was a furtive,
and yet a clear footstep. Creak ! Creak ! Creak !
Then it had reached the level. Then it had reached
their door. They were all sitting erect in their chairs,
Roxton grasping his automatic. Had it come in ?
The door was ajar, but had not further opened. Yet
all were aware of a sense that they were not alone,
that they were being observed. It seemed suddenly
colder, and Malone was shivering. An instant later
the steps were retreating. They were low and swift
— much swifter than before. One could imagine that
a messenger was speeding back with intelligence to
148
THE LAND OF MIST
some great master who lurked in the shadows above.
The three sat in silence, looking at each other.
“ By Jove ! ” said Lord Roxton at last. His face
was pale but firm. Malone scribbled some notes and
the hour. The clergyman was praying.
“ Well, we are up against it,” said Roxton after a
pause. “ We can’t leave it at that. We have to go
through with it. I don’t mind tellin’ you, padre, that
I’ve followed a wounded tiger in a thick jungle and
never had quite the feelin’ I’ve got now. If I’m out
for sensations, I’ve got them. But I’m going up¬
stairs.”
“ We will go, too,” cried his comrades, rising from
their chairs.
“ Stay here, young fellah ! And you, too, padre.
Three of us make too much noise. I’ll call you if I
want you. My idea is just to steal out and wait quiet
on the stair. If that thing, whatever it was, comes
again, it will have to pass me.”
All three went into the passage. The two candles
were throwing out little circles of light, and the stair
was dimly illuminated, with heavy shadows at the
top. Roxton sat down half-way up the stair, pistol
in hand. He put his finger to his lips and impatiently
waved his companions back to the room. Then they
sat by the fire, waiting, waiting.
Half an hour, three-quarters — and then, suddenly
it came. There was a sound as of rushing feet, the
reverberation of a shot, a scuffle and a heavy fall,
with a loud cry for help. Shaking with horror, they
rushed into the hall. Lord Roxton was lying on
his face amid a litter of plaster and rubbish. He
seemed half-dazed as they raised him, and was bleed¬
ing where the skin had been grazed from his cheek
and hands. Looking up the stair, it seemed that
A DARK SOUL
149
the shadows were blacker and thicker at the top.
“ I’m all right,” said Roxton, as they led him to his
chair. “ Just give me a minute to get my wind and
I’ll have another round with the devil — for if this is
not the devil, then none ever walked the earth.”
“ You shan’t go alone this time,” said Malone.
“ You never should,” added the clergyman. “ But
tell us what happened.”
“ I hardly know myself. I sat, as you saw, with
my back to the top landing. Suddenly I heard a rush.
I was aware of something dark right on the top of me.
I half-turned and fired. The next instant I was
chucked down as if I had been a baby. All that
plaster came showering down after me. That’s as
much as I can tell you.”
“ Why should we go further in the matter ? ” said
Malone. “ You are convinced that this is more than
human, are you not ? ”
“ There is no doubt of that.”
“ Well, then you have had your experience. What
more can you want ? ”
“ Well, I, at least, want something more,” said Mr.
Mason. “ I think our help is needed.”
“ Strikes me that we shall need the help,” said Lord
Roxton, rubbing his knee. “ We shall want a doctor
before we get through. But I’m with you, padre. I
feel that we must see it through. If you don’t like it,
young fellah - ”
The mere suggestion was too much for Malone’s
Irish blood.
“ I am going up alone ! ” he cried, making for the
door.
“ No, indeed. I am with you.” The clergyman
hurried after him.
150
THE LAND OF MIST
“ And you don’t go without me ! ” cried Lord Rox-
ton, limping in the rear.
They stood together in the candle-lit, shadow-
draped passage. Malone had his hand on the balus¬
trade and his foot on the lower step, when it
happened.
What was it ? They could not tell themselves.
They only knew that the black shadows at the top
of the staircase had thickened, had coalesced, had
taken a definite, batlike shape. Great God ! They
were moving ! They were rushing swiftly and noise¬
lessly downwards ! Black, black as night, huge, ill-
defined, semi-human and altogether evil and damnable.
All three men screamed and blundered for the door.
Lord Roxton caught the handle and threw it open.
It was too late; the thing was upon them. They were
conscious of a warm, glutinous contact, of a purulent
smell, of a half-formed, dreadful face and of entwin¬
ing limbs. An instant later all three were lying half-
dazed and horrified, hurled outwards on to the gravel
of the drive. The door had shut with a crash.
Malone whimpered and Roxton swore, but the
clergyman was silent as they gathered themselves to¬
gether, each of them badly shaken and bruised, but
with an inward horror which made all bodily ill seem
insignificant. There they stood in a little group in the
light of the sinking moon, their eyes turned upon the
black square of the door.
“ That’s enough,” said Roxton, at last.
“ More than enough,” said Malone. “ I wouldn’t
enter that house again for anything Fleet Street could
offer.”
“ Are you hurt ? ”
“ Defiled, degraded — oh, it was loathsome ! ”
A DARK SOUL
151
Foul ! ” said Roxton. “ Foul ! Did you get the
reek of it ? And the purulent warmth ? ”
Malone gave a cry of disgust. “ Featureless — save
for the dreadful eyes ! Semi-materialised ! Hor¬
rible ! ”
“ What about the lights ? ”
“ Oh, damn the lights ! Let them burn. I am not
going in again ! ”
“ Well, Belchamber can come in the morning.
Maybe he is waiting for us now at the inn.”
“ Yes, let us go to the inn. Let us get back to
humanity.”
Malone and Roxton turned away, but the clergy¬
man stood fast. He had drawn a crucifix from his
pocket.
“ You can go,” said he. “ I am going back.”
“ What ! Into the house ? ”
“ Yes, into the house.”
“ Padre, this is madness ! It will break your neck.
We were all like stuffed dolls in its clutch.”
“ Well, let it break my neck. I am going.”
“ You are not ! Here, Malone, catch hold of
him ! ”
But it was too late. With a few quick steps, Mr.
Mason had reached the door, flung it open, passed in
and closed it behind him. As his comrades tried to
follow, they heard a creaking clang upon the further
side. The padre had bolted them out. There was a
great slit where the letter-box had been. Through it
Lord Roxton entreated him to return.
“ Stay there ! ” said the quick, stern voice of the
clergyman. “ I have my work to do. I will come
when it is done.”
A moment later he began to speak. His sweet,
homely, affectionate accents rang tihrough the hall.
152
THE LAND OF MIST
They could only hear snatches outside, bits of prayer,
bits of exhortation, bits of kindly greeting. Looking
through the narrow opening, Malone could see the
straight, dark figure in the candle-light, its back to the
door, its face to the shadows of the stair, the crucifix
held aloft in its right hand.
His voice sank into silence and then there came
one more of the miracles of this eventful night. A
voice answered him. It was such a sound as neither
of the auditors had heard before — a guttural, rasping,
croaking utterance, indescribably menacing. What it
said was short, but it was instantly answered by
the clergyman, his tone sharpened to a fine edge by
emotion. His utterance seemed to be exhortation and
was at once answered by the ominous voice from be¬
yond. Again and again, and yet again came the
speech and the answer, sometimes shorter, sometimes
longer, varying in every key of pleading, arguing,
praying, soothing, and everything save upbraiding.
Chilled to the marrow, Roxton and Malone crouched
by the door, catching snatches of that inconceivable
dialogue. Then, after what seemed a weary time,
though it was less than an hour, Mr. Mason, in a loud,
full, exultant tone, repeated the “ Our Father.” Was
it fancy, or echo, or was there really some accom¬
panying voice in the darkness beyond him. A moment
later the light went out in the left-hand window, the
bolt was drawn, and the clergyman emerged carrying
Lord Roxton’s bag. His face looked ghastly in the
moonlight, but his manner was brisk and happy.
“ I think you will find everything here,” he said,
handing over the bag.
Roxton and Malone took him by either arm and
hurried him down to the road.
“ By Jove ! You don’t give us the slip again ! ”
A DARK SOUL
153
cried the nobleman. “ Padre, you should have a row
of Victoria Crosses.”
“ No, no, it was my duty. Poor fellow, he needed
help so badly. I am but a fellow-sinner and yet I was
able to give it.”
“ You did him good ? ”
“ I humbly hope so. 1 was but the instrument of
the higher forces. The house is haunted no longer.
He promised. But I will not speak of it now. It
may be easier in days to come.”
The landlord and the maids stared at the three
adventurers in amazement when, in the chill light of
the winter dawn, they presented themselves at the inn
once more. Each of them seemed to have aged five
years in the night. Mr. Mason, with the reaction
upon him, threw himself down upon the horsehair sofa
in the humble coffee-room and was instantly asleep,
“ Poor chap ! He looks pretty bad ! ” said Malone.
Indeed, his white, haggard face and long, limp limbs
might have been those of a corpse.
“ We will get a cup of hot tea into him,” Lord Rox-
ton answered, warming his hands at the fire, which the
maid had just lit. “ By Jove ! We shall be none the
worse for some ourselves. Well, young fellah, we’ve
got what we came for. I’ve had my sensation, and
you’ve had your copy.”
“And he has had the saving of a soul. Well, we
must admit that our objects seem very humble com¬
pared to his.”
They caught the early train to London, and had a
carriage to themselves. Mason had said little and
seemed to be lost in thought. Suddenly, he turned to
his companions.
154
THE LAND OF MIST
“ I say, you two, would you mind joining me in
prayer ? ”
Lord Roxton made a grimace. “ I warn you, padre,
I am rather out of practice.”
“ Please kneel down with me. I want your aid.”
They knelt down, side by side, the padre in the
middle. Malone made a mental note of the prayer.
“ Father, we are all Your children, poor, weak,
helpless creatures, swayed by Fate and circumstance.
I implore You that You will turn eyes of compassion
upon the man, Rupert Tremayne, who wandered far
from You, and is now in the dark. He has sunk deep,
very deep, for he had a proud heart which would not
soften, and a cruel mind, which was filled with hate.
But now he would turn to the light, and so I beg help
for him and for the woman, Emma, who, for the love
of him, has gone down into the darkness. May she
raise him, as she had tried to do. May they both
break the bonds of evil memory which tie them to
earth. May they, for to-night, move up towards that
glorious light which sooner or later shines upon even
the lowest.”
They rose from their knees.
“ That’s better ! ” cried the Padre, thumping his
chest with his bony hand, and breaking out into his
expansive, toothsome grin. “ What a night ! Good
Lord, what a night ! ” *
* See Appendix on Chapter IX.
CHAPTER IX
WHICH INTRODUCES SOME VERY PHYSICAL
PHENOMENA
MALONE seemed destined to be entangled in the
affairs of the Linden family, for he had hardly
seen the last of the unfortunate Tom before he be¬
came involved in a very much more unpleasant fashion
with his unsavoury brother.
The episode began by a telephone ring in the morn¬
ing and the voice of Algernon Mailey at the far end
of the wire.
“ Are you clear for this afternoon ? ”
“ At your service.”
“ I say, Malone, you are a hefty man. You played
Rugger for Ireland, did you not ? You don’t mind
a possible rough-and-tumble, do you ? ”
Malone grinned over the receiver.
“You can count me in.”
“ It may really be rather formidable. We shall
have possibly to tackle a prizefighter.”
“ Right-o ! ” said Malone, cheerfully.
“ And we want another man for the job. Do you
know any fellow who would come along just for the
sake of the adventure. If he knows anything about
psychic matters, all the better.”
Malone puzzled for a moment. Then he had an
inspiration.
“ There is Roxton,” said he. “ He’s not a chicken,
but he is a useful man in a row. I think I could get
155
156
rHE LAND OF MIST
him. He has been keen on your subject since his
Dorsetshire experience.”
“ Right ! Bring him along ! If he can’t come, we
shall have to tackle the job ourselves. Forty-one,
Belshaw Gardens, S.W. Near Earl’s Court Station.
Three p.m. Right ! ”
Malone at once rang up Lord Roxton, and soon
heard the familiar voice.
“ What’s that, young fellah ? . . . A scrap ?
Why, certainly. What ! . . . I mean I had a
golf match at Richmond Deer Park, but this sounds
more attractive. What ! Very good. I’ll meet you
there.”
And so it came about that at the hour of three,
Mailey, Lord Roxton and Malone found themselves
seated round the fire in the comfortable drawing-room
of the barrister. His wife, a sweet and beautiful
woman, who was his helpmate in his spiritual as well
as in his material life, was there to welcome them.
“ Now, dear, you are not on in this act,” said
Mailey. “ You will retire discreetly into the wings.
Don’t worry if you hear a row.”
“ But I do worry, dear. You’ll get hurt.”
Mailey laughed.
“ I think your furniture may possibly get hurt. You
have nothing else to fear, dear. And it’s all for the
good of the Cause. That always settles it,” he ex¬
plained, as his wife reluctantly left the room. “ I
really think she would go to the stake for the Cause.
Her great, loving, womanly heart knows what it
would mean for this grey earth if people could get
away from the shadow of death and value this great
happiness that is to come, By Jove ! she is an inspira¬
tion to me. . . . Well,” he went on with a laugh,
“ I must not get on to that subject. We have some-
PHYSICAL PHENOMENA
157
thing very different to think of — something as hideous
and vile as she is beautiful and good. It concerns
Tom Linden’s brother.”
“ I’ve heard of the fellow,” said Malone. “ I used
to box a bit and I am still a member of the N.S.C.
Silas Linden was very nearly Champion in the
Welters.”
“ That’s the man. He is out of a job and thought
he would take up mediumship. Naturally I and other
Spiritualists took him seriously, for we all love his
brother, and these powers often run in families, so
that his claim seemed reasonable. So we gave him a
trial last night.”
“ Well, what happened ? ”
“ I suspected the fellow from the first. You under¬
stand that it is hardly possible for a medium to
deceive an experienced Spiritualist. When there is de¬
ception it is at the expense of outsiders. I watched
him carefully from the first, and I seated myself near
the cabinet. Presently he emerged clad in white. I
broke the contact by prearrangement with my wife
who sat next me, and I felt him as he passed me. He
was, of course, in white. I had a pair of scissors in
my pocket and I snipped off a bit from the edge.”
Mailey drew a triangular piece of linen from his
pocket.
“ There it is, you see. Very ordinary linen. I
have no doubt the fellow was wearing his nightgown.”
“ Why did you not have a show-up at once? ” asked
Lord Roxton.
“ There were several ladies there, and I was the
only really able-bodied man in the room.”
“ Well, what do you propose ? ”
“ I have appointed that he come here at three-
thirty. He is due now. Unless he has noticed the
158
THE LAND OF MIST
small cut in his linen, I don’t think he has any sus¬
picion why I want him.”
“ What will you do ? ”
“ Well, that depends on him. We have to stop him
at any cost. That is the way our Cause gets bemired.
Some villain who knows nothing about it comes into
it for money and so the labours of honest mediums
get discounted. The public very naturally brackets
them all together. With your help I can talk to this
fellow on equal terms which I certainly could not do
if I were alone. By Jove ! here he is ! ”
There was a heavy step outside. The door was
opened and Silas Linden, fake medium and ex-prize¬
fighter, walked in. His small piggy grey eyes under
their shaggy brows looked round with suspicion at the
three men. Then he forced a smile and nodded to
Mailey.
“ Good day, Mr. Mailey. We had a good evening
last night, had we not ? ”
“ Sit down, Linden,” said Mailey, indicating a
chair. “ It’s about last night that I want to talk to
you. You cheated us.”
Silas Linden’s heavy face flushed red with anger.
“ What’s that ? ” he cried, sharply.
“ You cheated us. You dressed up and pretended
to be a spirit.”
“ You are a damned liar ! ” cried Linden. “ I did
nothing of the sort.”
Mailey took the rag of linen from his pocket and
spread it on his knee.
“ What about that ? ” he asked.
“ Well, what about it ? ”
“ It was cut out of the white gown you wore. I
cut it out myself as you stood in front of me. If you
examine the gown you will find the place. It’s no
PHYSICAL PHENOMENA
159
use, Linden. The game is up. You can’t deny it.”
For a moment the man was completely taken aback.
Then he burst into a stream of horrible profanity.
“ What’s the game ? ” he cried, glaring round him.
“ Do you think I am easy and that you can play me
for a sucker ? Is it a frame-up, or what ? You’ve
chose the wrong man for a try-on of that sort.”
“ There is no use being noisy or violent, Linden,”
said Mailey quietly. “ I could bring you up in the
police court to-morrow. I don’t want any public
scandal, for your brother’s sake. But you don’t leave
this room until you have signed a paper that I have
here on my desk.”
“ Oh, I don’t, don’t I ? Who will stop me ? ”
“ We will.”
The three men were between him and the door.
“ You will ! Well, try that 1 ” He stood before
them with rage in his eyes and his great hands
knotted. “ Will you get out of the way ? ”
They did not answer, but they all three gave the
lighting snarl which is perhaps the oldest of all human
expressions. The next instant Linden was upon them,
his fists flashing out with terrific force. Mailey, who
had boxed in his youth, stopped one blow, but the
next beat in his guard and he fell with a crash against
the door. Lord Roxton was hurled to one side, but
Malone, with a footballer’s instinct, ducked his head
and caught the prizefighter round the knees. If
a man is too good for you on his feet, then put
him on his back, for he cannot be scientific there.
Over went Linden, crashing through an armchair
before he reached the ground. He staggered to
one knee and got in a short jolt to the chin, but
Malone had him down again and Roxton’s bony
hand had closed upon his throat. Silas Linden
160
THE LAND OF MIST
had a yellow streak in him and he was cowed.
“ Let up ! ” he cried. “ That’s enough ! ”
He lay now spread-eagled upon his back. Malone
and Roxton were bending over him. Mailey had
gathered himself together, pale and shaken after his
fall.
“ I’m all right ! ” he cried, in answer to a feminine
voice at the other side of the door. “ No, not yet,
dear, but we shall soon be ready for you. Now, Lin¬
den, there’s no need for you to get up, for you can
talk very nicely where you are. You’ve got to sign
this paper before you leave the room.”
“ What is the paper ? ” croaked Linden, as Rox-
ton’s grip upon his throat relaxed.
“ I’ll read it to you.”
Mailey took it from the desk and read aloud.
“ ‘ I, Silas Linden, hereby admit that I have
acted as a rogue and a scoundrel by simulating to
be a spirit, and I swear that I will never again in
my life pretend to be a medium. Should I break
this oath, then this signed confession may be
used for my conviction in the police court.’ ”
“ Will you sign that ? ”
“ No, I am damned if I will ! ”
“ Shall I give him another squeeze ? ” asked Lord
Roxton. “ Perhaps I could choke some sense into
him — what ! ”
“ Not at all,” said Mailey. “ I think that his case
now would do good in the police court, for it would
show the public that we are determined to keep our
house clean. I’ll give you one minute for considera¬
tion, Linden, and then I ring up the police.”
Rut it did not take a minute for the impostor to
make up his mind.
PHYSICAL PHENOMENA
161
“ All right,” said he in a sulky voice, “ I’ll sign.”
He was allowed to rise with a warning that if he
played any tricks he would not get off so lightly the
second time. But there was no kick left in him and
he scrawled a big, coarse “ Silas Linden ” at the bot¬
tom of the paper without a word. The three men
signed as witnesses.
“ Now, get out ! ” said Mailey, sharply. “ Find
some honest trade in future and leave sacred things
alone ! ”
“ Keep your bloody cant to yourself ! ” Linden
answered, and so departed, grumbling and swearing,
into the outer darkness from which he had come. He
had hardly passed before Mrs. Mailey had rushed
into the room to reassure herself as to her husband.
Once satisfied as to this she mourned over her broken
chair, for like all good women she took a personal
pride and joy in every detail of her little menage.
“ Never mind, dear. It’s a cheap price to pay in
order to get that blackguard out of the movement.
Don’t go away, you fellows. I want to talk to you.”
“ And tea is just coming in.”
“ Perhaps something stronger would be better,”
said Mailey, and indeed, all three were rather ex¬
hausted, for it was sharp while it lasted. Roxton,
who had enjoyed the whole thing immensely, was full
of vitality, but Malone was shaken and Mailey had
narrowly escaped serious injury from that ponderous
blow.
“ I have heard,” said Mailey, as they all settled
down round the fire, “ that this blackguard has
sweated money out of poor Tom Linden for years.
It was a form of blackmail, for he was quite capable
of denouncing him. By Jove ! ” he cried, with sudden
inspiration, “ that would account for the police raid.
162
THE LAND OF MIST
Why should they pick Linden out of all the mediums
in London ? I remember now that Tom told me the
fellow had asked to be taught to be a medium, and
that he had refused to teach him.”
“ Could he teach him ? ” asked Malone.
Mailey was thoughtful over this question. “ Well,
perhaps he could,” he said at last. “ But Silas Linden
as a false medium would be very much less dangerous
than Silas Linden as a true medium.”
“ I don’t follow you.”
“ Mediumship can be developed,” said Mrs.
Mailey. “ One might almost say it was catching.”
“ That was what the laying-on of hands meant in
the early Church,” Mailey explained. “ It was the
conferring of thaumaturgic powers. We can’t do it
now as rapidly as that. But if a man or woman sits
with the desire of development, and especially if that
sitting is in the presence of a real medium, the chance
is that powers will come.”
“ But why do you say that would be worse than
false mediumship ? ”
“ Because it could be used for evil. I assure you,
Malone, that the talk of black magic and of evil
entities is not an invention of the enemy. Such things
do happen and centre round the wicked medium. You
can get down into a region which is akin to the popular
idea of witchcraft. It is dishonest to deny it.”
“ Like attracts like,” explained Mrs. Mailey, who
was quite as capable an exponent as her husband.
“ You get what you deserve. If you sit with wicked
people you get wicked visitors.”
“ Then there is a dangerous side to it ? ”
“ Do you know anything on earth which has not a
dangerous side if it is mishandled and exaggerated ?
This dangerous side exists quite apart from orthodox
PHYSICAL PHENOMENA
163
Spiritualism, and our knowledge is the surest way to
counteract it. I believe that the witchcraft of the
Middle Ages was a very real thing, and that the best
way to meet such practices is to cultivate the higher
powers of the spirit. To leave the thing entirely
alone is to abandon the field to the forces of evil.”
Lord Roxton interposed in an unexpected way.
“ When I was in Paris last year,” said he, “ there
was a fellah called La Paix who dabbled in the black
magic business. He held circles and the like. What
I mean, there was no great harm in the thing, but it
wasn’t what you would call very spiritual, either.”
“ It’s a side that I as a journalist would like to see
something of, if I am to report impartially upon this
subject,” said Malone.
“ Quite right ! ” Mailey agreed. “ We want all
the cards on the table.”
“ Well, young fellah, if you give me a week of your
time and come to Paris, I’ll introduce you to La Paix,”
said Roxton.
“ It is a curious thing, but I also had a Paris
visit in my mind for our friend here,” said Mailey.
“ I have been asked over by Dr. Maupuis of the
Institute Metapsychique to see some of the experi¬
ments which he is conducting upon a Galician medium.
It is really the religious side of this matter which inter¬
ests me, and that is conspicuously wanting in the minds
of these scientific men of the Continent but for ac¬
curate, careful examination of the psychic facts they
are ahead of anyone except poor Crawford of Bel¬
fast, who stood in a class by himself. I promised
Maupuis to run across, and he has certainly been hav¬
ing some wonderful — in some respects, some rather
alarming results.”
“ Why alarming ? ”
164
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Well, his materialisations lately have not been
human at all. That is confirmed by photographs. I
won’t say more, for it is best that, if you go, you
should approach it with an open mind.”
“ I shall certainly go,” said Malone. “ I am sure
my chief would wish it.”
Tea had arrived to interrupt the conversation in
the irritating way that our bodily needs intrude upon
our higher pursuits. But Malone was too keen to be
thrown off his scent.
“ You speak of these evil forces. Have you ever
come in contact with them ? ”
Mailey looked at his wife and smiled.
“ Continually,” he said. “ It is part of our job.
We specialise on it.”
“ I understood that when there was an intrusion of
that kind you drove it away.”
“ Not necessarily. If we can help any lower spirit
we do so, and we can only do it by encouraging it to
tell us its troubles. Most of them are not wicked.
They are poor, ignorant, stunted creatures who are
suffering the effects of the narrow and false views
which they have learned in this world. We try to
help them — and we do.”
“ How do you know that you do ? ”
“ Because they report to us afterwards and register
their progress. Such methods are often used by our
people. They are called ‘ rescue circles.’ ”
“ I have heard of rescue circles. Where could I
attend one ? This thing attracts me more and more.
Fresh gulfs seem always opening. I would take it
as a great favour if you would help me to see this
fresh side of it.”
Mailey became thoughtful.
“ We don’t want to make a spectacle of these poor
PHYSICAL PHENOMENA
165
creatures. On the other hand, though we can hardly
claim you yet as a Spiritualist, you have treated the
subject with some understanding and sympathy.” He
looked enquiringly at his wife, who smiled and nodded.
“ Ah, you have permission. Well then, you must
know that we run our own little rescue circle, and
that at five o’clock to-day we have our weekly sitting.
Mr. Terbane is our medium. We don’t usually have
anyone else except Mr. Charles Mason, the clergy¬
man. But if you both care to have the experience,
we shall be very happy if you will stay. Terbane
should be here immediately after tea. He is a rail¬
way-porter, you know, so his time is not his own. Yes,
psychic power in its varied manifestations is found in
humble quarters, but surely that has been its main
characteristic from the beginning — fishermen, carpen¬
ters, tent-makers, camel drivers, these were the
prophets of old. At this moment some of the highest
psychic gifts in England lie in a miner, a cotton opera¬
tive, a railway-porter, a bargeman and a charwoman.
Thus does history repeat itself, and that foolish
beak, with Tom Linden before him, was but Felix
judging Paul. The old wheel goes round.”
CHAPTER X
DE PROFUNDIS
THEY were still having tea when Mr. Charles
Mason was ushered in. Nothing draws people
together into such intimate soul-to-soul relationship
as psychic quest, and thus it was that Roxton and
Malone, who had only known him in the one episode,
felt more near to this man than to others with whom
they had associated for years. This close vital com¬
radeship is one of the outstanding features of such
communion. When his loosely-built, straggling, lean,
clerical figure appeared, with that gaunt, worn face
illuminated by its human grin and dignified by its
earnest eyes, through the doorway, they both felt
as if an old friend had entered. His own greeting
was equally cordial.
“Still exploring ! ” he cried, as he shook them by
the hand. “ We will hope your new experiences will
not be so nerve-racking as our last.”
“ By Jove, padre ! ” said Roxton. “ Eve worn
out the brim of my hat taking it off to you since then.”
“ Why, what did he do ? ” asked Mrs. Mailey.
“ No, no ! ” cried Mason. “ I tried in my poor
way to guide a darkened soul. Let us leave it at that.
But that is exactly what we are here for now, and
what these dear people do every week of their lives.
It was from Mr. Mailey here that I learned how to
attempt it.”
“ Well, certainly we have plenty of practice,” said
166
DE PROFUNDIS 167
Mailey. “ You have seen enough of it, Mason, to
know that.”
“ But I can’t get the focus of this at all ! ” cried
Malone. “ Could you clear my mind a little on the
point ? I accept for the moment your hypothesis,
that we are surrounded by material earth-bound
spirits who find themselves under strange conditions
which they don’t understand, and who want counsel
and guidance. That more or less expresses it, does it
not ? ”
The Maileys both nodded their agreement.
“Well, their dead friends and relatives are pre¬
sumably on the other side and cognisant of their be¬
nighted condition. They know the truth. Could they
not minister to the wants of these afflicted ones far
better than we can ? ”
“ It is a most natural question,” Mailey answered.
“Of course we put that objection to them and we can
only accept their answer. They appear to be actually
anchored to the surface of this earth, too heavy and
gross to rise. The others are, presumably, on a
spiritual level and far separated from them. They
explain that they are much nearer to us and that they
are cognisant of us, but not of anything higher.
Therefore it is we who can reach them best.”
“ There was one poor dear dark soul - ”
“ My wife loves everybody and everything,” Mailey
explained. “ She is capable of talking of the poor
dear devil.”
“ Well, surely they are to be pitied and loved ! ”
cried the lady. “ This poor fellow was nursed along
by us week by week. He had really come from the
depths. Then one day he cried in rapture, ‘ My
mother has come ! My mother is here ! ’ We
naturally said, ‘ But why did she not come before ? ’
168
THE LAND OF MIST
‘ How could she,’ said he, ‘ when I was in so dark a
place that she could not see me ? ’ ”
“ That’s very well,” said Malone, “ but so far as
I can follow your methods it is some guide or control
or higher spirit who regulates the whole matter and
brings the sufferer to you. If he can be cognisant,
one would think other higher spirits could also be.”
“ No, for it is his particular mission,” said Mailey.
“To show how marked the divisions are I can
remember one occasion when we had a dark soul here.
Our own people came through and did not know he
was there until we called their attention to it. When
we said to the dark soul, ‘ Don’t you see our friends
beside you ? ’ he answered, ‘ I can see a light but
nothing else.’ ”
At this point the conversation was interrupted by
the arrival of Mr. John Terbane from Victoria Sta¬
tion, where his mundane duties lay. He was dressed
now in civil garb and appeared as a pale, sad-faced,
clean-shaven, plump-featured man with dreamy,
thoughtful eyes, but no other indication of the re¬
markable uses to which he was put.
“ Have you my record ? ” was his first question.
Mrs. Mailey, smiling, handed him an envelope.
“ We kept it all ready for you but you can read it at
home. You see,” she explained, “ poor Mr. Terbane
is in trance and knows nothing of the wonderful work
of which he is the instrument, so after each sitting my
husband and I draw up an account for him.”
“Very much astonished I am when I read it,” said
Terbane.
“ And very proud, I should think,” added Mason.
“ Well, I don’t know about that,” Terbane an¬
swered humbly. “I don’t see that the tool need be
DE PROFUNDIS
169
proud because the worker happens to use it. Yet it
is a privilege, of course.”
“ Good old Terbane ! ” said Mailey, laying his
hand affectionately on the railwayman’s shoulder.
“ The better the medium the more unselfish. That is
my experience. The whole conception of a medium
is one who gives himself up for the use of others, and
that is incompatible with selfishness. Well, I suppose
we had better get to work or Mr. Chang will scold
us.”
“ Who is he ? ” asked Malone.
“Oh, you will soon make the acquaintance of Mr.
Chang ! We need not sit round the table. A semi¬
circle round the fire does very well. Lights half-down.
That is all right. You’ll make yourself comfortable,
Terbane. Snuggle among the cushions.”
The medium was in the corner of a comfortable
sofa, and had fallen at once into a doze. Both Mailey
and Malone sat with note books upon their knees
awaiting developments.
They were not long in coming. Terbane suddenly
sat up, his dreamy self transformed into a very alert
and masterful individuality. A subtle change had
passed over his face. An ambiguous smile fluttered
upon his lips, his eyes seemed more oblique and less
open, his face projected. The two hands were thrust
into the sleeves of his blue lounge jacket.
“ Good evening,” said he, speaking crisply and in
short staccato sentences. “ New faces ! Who
these ? ”
“ Good evening, Chang,” said the master of the
house. “ You know Mr. Mason. This is Mr. Malone
who studies our subject. This is Lord Roxton who
has helped me to-day.”
As each name was mentioned, Terbane made a
170
THE LAND OF MIST
sweeping Oriental gesture of greeting, bringing his
hand down from his forehead. His whole bearing
was superbly dignified and very different from the
humble little man who had sat down a few minutes
before.
“ Lord Roxton ! ” he repeated. “ An English
milord ! I knew Lord — Lord Macart No ! I can¬
not say it. Alas ! I called him ‘ foreign devil ’ then.
Chang, too, had much to learn.”
“ He is speaking of Lord Macartney. That wTould
be over a hundred years ago. Chang was a great
living philosopher then,” Mailey explained.
“ Not lose time ! ” cried the control. “ Much to
do to-day ! Crowd waiting. Some new, some old. I
gather strange folk in my net. Now I go.” He sank
back among the cushions.
A minute elapsed, then he suddenly sat up.
“ I want to thank you,” he said, speaking perfect
English. “ I came tw7o weeks ago. I have thought
over all you said. The path is lighter.”
“ Were you the spirit who did not believe in God ? ”
“ Yes, yes ! I said so in my anger. I was so
weary — so weary. Oh, the time, the endless time,
the grey mist, the heavy weight of remorse ! Hope¬
less ! Hopeless ! And you brought me comfort, you
and this great Chinese spirit. You gave me the first
kind words I have had since I died ! ”
“ When was it that you died ? ”
“ Oh ! It seems an eternity. We do not measure
as you do. It is a long, horrible dream without change
or break.”
“ Who was king in England ? ”
“ Victoria was queen. I had attuned my mind
to matter and so it clung to matter. I did not believe
in a future life. Now I know that I was all wrong,
DE PROFUNDIS
171
but I could not adapt my mind to new conditions.”
“ Is it bad where you are ? ”
“ It is all — all grey. That is the awful part of it.
One’s surroundings are so horrible.”
“ But there are many more. You are not alone.”
“ No, but they know no more than I. They, toov
scoff and doubt and are miserable.”
“ You will soon get out.”
“ For God’s sake, help me to do so ! ”
“ Poor soul ! ” said Mrs. Mailey in her sweet,
caressing voice, a voice which could bring every animal
to her side. “You have suffered much. But do not
think of yourself. Think of these others. Try to
bring one of them up and so you will best help your¬
self.”
“ Thank you, lady, I will. There is one here whom
I brought. He has heard you. We will go on to¬
gether. Perhaps some day we may find the light.”
“ Do you like to be prayed for ? ”
“ Yes, yes, indeed I do ! ”
“ I will pray for you,” said Mason. “ Could you
say the ‘ Our Father ’ now ? ” He uttered the old
universal prayer, but before he had finished Terbane
had collapsed again among the cushions. He sat up
again as Chang.
“ He come on well,” said the control. “ He give
up time for others who wait. That is good. Now I
have hard case. Ow ! ”
He gave a comical cry of disapprobation and sank
back.
Next moment he was up, his face long and solemn,
his hands palm to palm.
“ What is this ? ” he asked in a precise and affected
voice. “ I am at a loss to know what right this
172
THE LAND OF MIST
Chinese person has to summon me here. Perhaps
you can enlighten me.”
“ It is that we may perhaps help you.”
“ When I desire help, sir, I ask for it. At present
I do not desire it. The whole proceeding seems to
me to be a very great liberty. So far as this China¬
man can explain it, I gather that I am the involuntary
spectator of some sort of religious service.”
“ We are a spiritualistic circle.”
“ A most pernicious sect. A most blasphemous
proceeding. As a humble parish priest I protest
against such desecrations.”
“ You are held back, friend, by those narrow views.
It is you who suffer. We want to relieve you.”
“ Suffer ? What do you mean, sir ? ”
“You realise that you have passed over ?”
“You are talking nonsense ! ”
“ Do you realise that you are dead ?”
“ How can I be dead when I am talking to you ? ”
“ Because you are using this man’s body.”
“ I have certainly wandered into an asylum.”
“ Yes, an asylum for bad cases. I fear you are one
of them. Are you happy where you are ? ”
“ Happy ? No, sir. My present surroundings are
perfectly inexplicable to me.”
“ Have you any recollection of being ill ? ”
“ I was very ill indeed.”
“ So ill that you died.”
“You are certainly out of your senses.”
“ How do you know you are not dead ? ”
“ Sir, I must give you some religious instruction.
When one dies and has led an honourable life, one
assumes a glorified body and one associates with the
angels. I am now in exactly the same body as in life,
and I am in a very dull, drab place. Such compan-
DE PROFUNDIS
173
ions as I have are not such as I have been accustomed
to associate with in life, and certainly no one could
describe them as angels. Therefore your absurd con¬
jecture may be dismissed.”
“ Do not continue to deceive yourself. We wish to
help you. You can never progress until you realise
your position.”
“ Really you try my patience too far. Have I not
said - ? ”
The medium fell back among the cushions. An
instant later the Chinese control, with bis whimsical
smile and his hands tucked away in his sleeves, was
talking to the circle.
“ He good man — fool man — learn sense soon.
Bring him again. Not waste more time. Oh, my
God ! My God ! Help ! Mercy ! Help ! ”
He had fallen full length upon the sofa, face up¬
wards, and his cries were so terrible that the little
audience all sprang to their feet. “ A saw ! A saw !
Fetch a saw ! ” yelled the medium. His voice sank
into a moan.
Even Mailey was agitated. The rest were horrified.
“ Someone has obsessed him. I can’t understand it.
It may be some strong evil entity.”
“ Shall I speak to him ? ” asked Mason.
“ Wait a moment ! Let it develop. We shall soon
see.”
The medium writhed in agony. “ Oh, my God !
Why don’t you fetch a saw !” he cried. “ It’s here
across my breast-bone. It is cracking ! I feel it !
Hawkin ! Hawkin ! Pull me from under ! Hawkin !
Push up the beam ! No, no, that’s worse ! And it’s
on fire ! Oh, horrible ! Horrible ! ”
His cries were blood-curdling. They were all
chilled with horror. Then in an instant the China-
174
THE LAND OF MIST
man was blinking at them with his slanting eyes.
“ What you think of that, Mister Mailey ? ”
“ It was terrible, Chang. What was it ? ”
“ It was for him,” nodding towards Malone. “ He
want newspaper story, I give him newspaper story.
He will understand. No time ’splain now. Too
many waiting. Sailor man come next. Here he
comes ! ”
The Chinaman was gone, and a jovial, puzzled
grin passed over the face of the medium. He
scratched his head.
“Well, damn me,” said he. “I never thought I
would take orders from a Chink, but he says ‘ hist ! ’
and by crums you’ve got to hist and no back talk
either. Well, here I am. What did you want ? ”
“ We wanted nothing.”
“ Well, the Chink seemed to think you did, for he
slung me in here.”
“ It was you that wanted something. You wanted
knowledge.”
“ Well, I’ve lost my bearings, that’s true. I know
I am dead ’cause I’ve seen the gunnery lootenant,
and he was blown to bits before my eyes. If he’s
dead I’m dead and all the rest of us, for we are over
to the last man. But we’ve got the laugh on our sky-
pilot, for he’s as puzzled as the rest of us. Damned
poor pilot, I call him. We’re all taking our own
sounding now.”
“ What was your ship ? ”
“ The Monmouth .”
“ She that went down in battle with the German ? ”
“ That’s right. South American waters. It was
clean hell. Yes, it was hell.” There was a world of
emotion in his voice. “Well,” he added more cheer-
DE PROFUNDIS
175
fully, “ I’ve heard our mates got level with them later.
That is so, sir, is it not ? ”
“ Yes, they all went to the bottom.”
“ We’ve seen nothing of them this side. Just as
well, maybe. We don’t forget nothing.”
“ But you must,” said Mailey. “ That’s what is
the matter with you. That is why the Chinese con¬
trol brought you through. We are here to teach you.
Carry our message to your mates.”
“ Bless your heart, sir, they are all here behind
me.”
“ Well, then, I tell you and them that the time for
hard thoughts and worldly strife is over. Your faces
are to be turned forward, not back. Leave this earth
which still holds you by the ties of thought and let
all your desire be to make yourself unselfish and
worthy of a higher, more peaceful, more beautiful
life. Can you understand ? ”
“ I hear you, sir. So do they. We want steering,
sir, for, indeed, we’ve had wrong instructions, and we
never expected to find ourselves cast away like this.
We had heard of heaven and we had heard of hell,
but this don’t seem to fit in with either. But this
Chinese gent, says time is up, and we can report again
next week. I thank you, sir, for self and company.
I’ll come again.”
There was silence.
“ What an incredible conversation ! ” gasped Ma¬
lone. “ If I were to put down that man’s sailor talk
and slang as emanating from a world of spirits, what
would the public say ? ”
Mailey shrugged his shoulders.
“ Does it matter what the public says ? I started
as a fairly sensitive person, and now a tank takes as
much notice of small shot as I do of newspaper at-
176
THE LAND OF MIST
tacks. They honestly don’t even interest me. Let us
just stick fast to truth as near as we can get it, and
leave all else to find its own level.”
“ I don’t pretend to know much of these things,”
said Roxton, “ but what strikes me most is that these
folk are very decent ordinary people. What ? Why
should they be wanderin’ about in the dark, and
hauled up here by this Chinaman when they’ve done
no partic’lar harm in life ? ”
“ It is the strong earth tie and the absence of any
spiritual nexus in each case,” Mailey explained.
“ Here is a clergyman with his mind entangled with
formulas and ritual. Here is a materialist who has
deliberately attuned himself to matter. Here is a
seaman brooding over revengeful thoughts. They
are there by the million million.”
“ Where ? ” asked Malone.
“ Here,” Mailey answered. “ Actually on the sur¬
face of the earth. Well, you saw it for yourself, I
understand, when you went down to Dorsetshire.
That was on the surface, was it not ? That was a
very gross case, and that made it more visible and
obvious, but it did not change the general law. I
believe that the whole globe is infested with the earth-
bound, and that when a great cleansing comes, as is
prophesied, it will be for their benefit as much as for
that of the living.”
Malone thought of the strange visionary Miromar
and his speech at the Spiritualistic Church on the first
night of his quest.
“ Do you then believe in some impending event ? ”
he asked.
Mailey smiled. “ That is rather a large subject to
open up,” he said. “ I believe — But here is Mr.
Chang again ! ”
DE PROFUNDIS
177
The control joined in the conversation.
“ I heard you. I sit and listen,” said he. “ You
Speak now of what is to come. Let it be ! Let it be !
The Time is not yet. You will be told when it is
good that you know. Remember this. All is best.
Whatever come all is best. God makes no mistakes.
Now others here who wish your help, I leave you.”
Several spirits came through in quick succession.
One was an architect who said that he had lived at
Bristol. He had not been an evil man, but had simply
banished all thoughts of the future. Now he was in
the dark and needed guidance. Another had lived
in Birmingham. He was an educated man but a
materialist. He refused to accept the assurances of
Mailey, and was by no means convinced that he was
really dead. Then came a very noisy and violent man
of a crudely-religious and narrowly-intolerant type,
who spoke repeatedly of “ the blood.”
“ What is this ribald nonsense ? ” he asked several
times.
“ It is not nonsense. We are here to help,” said
Mailey.
“ Who wants to be helped by the devil ? ”
“ Is it likely that the devil would wish to help souls
in trouble ? ”
“ It is part of his deceit. I tell you it is of the
devil ! Be warned ! I will take no further part
in it.”
The placid, whimsical Chinaman was back like a
flash. “ Good man. Foolish man,” he repeated once
more. “ Plenty time. He learn better some day.
Now I bring bad case — very bad case. Ow ! ”
He reclined his head in the cushion and did not
raise it as the voice, a feminine voice, broke out:
“ Janet ! Janet ! ”
178
THE LAND OF MIST
There was a pause.
“Janet, I say! Where is the morning tea?
Janet ! This is intolerable I I have called you again
and again ! Janet ! ” The figure sat up, blinking
and rubbing his eyes.
“ What is this ? ” cried the voice. “ Who are
you ? What right have you here ? Are you aware
that this is my house ? ”
“ No, friend, this is my house.”
“ Your house ! How can it be your house when
this is my bedroom ? Go away this moment ! ”
“ No, friend. You do not understand your posi¬
tion.”
“ I will have you put out. What insolence I
Janet ! Janet ! Will no one look after me this
morning ? ”
“ Look round you, lady. Is this your bedroom ? ”
Terbane looked round with a wild stare.
“ It is a room I never saw in my life. Where am
I ? What is the meaning of it ? You look like a
kind lady. Tell me, for God’s sake, what is the mean¬
ing of it ? Oh, I am so terrified ! So terrified !
Where are John and Janet ? ”
“ What do you last remember ? ”
“ I remember speaking severely to Janet. She is
my maid, you know. She has become so very careless.
Yes, I was very angry with her. I was so angry that I
was ill. I went to bed feeling very ill. They told me
that I should not get excited. How can one help
getting excited ? Yes, I remember being breathless.
That was after the light was out. I tried to call
Janet. But why should I be in another room ? ”
“ You passed over in the night ?”
“ Passed over ? Do you mean I died ? ”
“ Yes, lady, you died.”
DE PROFUNDIS
179
There was a long silence. Then there came a shrill
scream. “ No, no, no ! It is a dream ! A night¬
mare ! Wake me ! Wake me ! How can I be
dead ? I was not ready to die ! I never thought of
such a thing. If I am dead, why am I not in heaven
or hell ? What is this room ? This room is a real
room.”
“ Yes, lady, you have been brought here and al¬
lowed to use this man’s body - ”
“A man ? ” She convulsively felt the coat and
passed her hand over the face. “ Yes, it is a man.
Oh, I am dead ! I am dead ! What shall I do ? ”
“ You are here that we may explain to you. You
have been, I judge, a worldly woman — a society
woman. You have lived always for material things.”
“ I went to church. I was at St. Saviour’s every
Sunday.”
“ That is nothing. It is the inner daily life that
counts. You were material. Now you are held down
to the world. When you leave this man’s body you
will be in your own body once more and in your old
surroundings. But no one will see you. You will
remain there unable to show yourself. Your body of
flesh will be buried. You will still persist, the same
as ever.”
“ What am I to do ? Oh, what can I do ? ”
“ You will take what comes in a good spirit and
understand that it is for your cleansing. We only
clear ourselves of matter by suffering. All will be
well. We will pray for you.”
“ Oh, do ! Oh, I need it so ! Oh my God !
.” The voice trailed away.
“ Bad case,” said the Chinaman, sitting up. “ Sel¬
fish woman ! Bad woman ! Live for pleasure.
Hard on those around her. She have much to suffer.
180
THE LAND OF MIST
But you put her feet on the path. Now my medium
tired. Plenty waiting, but no more to-day.”
“ Have we done good, Chang ? ”
“ Plenty good. Plenty good.”
“ Where are all these people, Chang ? ”
“ I tell you before.”
“ Yes, but I want these gentlemen to hear.”
“ Seven spheres round the world, heaviest below,
lightest above. First sphere is on the earth. These
people belong to that sphere. Each sphere is separate
from the other. Therefore it is easier for you to
speak with these people than for those in any other
sphere.”
“ And easier for them to speak to us ? ”
“Yes. That why you should be plenty careful
when you do not know to whom you talk. Try the
spirits.”
“ What sphere do you belong to, Chang ? ”
“ I came from Number Four sphere.”
“Which is the first really happy sphere ?”
“ Number Three. Summerland. Bible book called
it the third heaven. Plenty sense in Bible book, but
people do not understand.”
“ And the seventh heaven ? ”
“ Ah ! That is where the Christs are. All come
there at last — you, me, everybody.”
“ And after that ?”
“ Too much question, Mr. Mailey. Poor old Chang
not know so much as that. Now good-bye ! God
bless you ! I go.”
It was the end of the sitting of the rescue circle.
A few minutes later Terbane was sitting up smiling
and alert, but with no apparent recollection of any¬
thing which had occurred. He was pressed for time
and lived afar, so that he had to make his departure,
DE PROFUNDIS
181
unpaid save by the blessing of those whom he had
helped. Modest little unvenal man, where will he
stand when we all find our real places in the order of
creation upon the further side ?
The circle did not break up at once. The visitors
wanted to talk and the Maileys to listen.
“ What I mean,” said Roxton, “ it’s doosed interest¬
in’ and all that, but there is a sort of variety-show
element in it. What ! Difficult to be sure it’s really
real, if you take what I mean.”
“ That is what I feel also,” said Malone. “ Of
course on its face value it is simply unspeakable. It
is a thing so great that all ordinary happenings be¬
come commonplace. That I grant. But the human
mind is very strange. I’ve read the case Moreton
Prince examined, and Miss Beauchamp and the rest;
also the results of Charcot, the great Nancy hypnotic
school. They could turn a man into anything. The
mind seems to be like a rope which can be unravelled
into its various threads. Then each thread is a dif¬
ferent personality which may take dramatic form,
and act and speak as such. That man is honest, and
he could not normally produce these effects. But how
do we know that he is not self-hypnotised, and that
under those conditions one strand of him becomes Mr.
Chang and another becomes a sailor and another a
society lady, and so forth ? ”
Mailey laughed. “ Every man his own Cinque-
valli,” said he, “ but it is a rational objection and
has to be met.”
“ We have traced some of the cases,” said Mrs.
Mailey. “ There is not a doubt of it — names, ad¬
dresses, everything.”
“ Well, then we have to consider the question of
Terbane’s normal knowledge. How can you possibly
182
THE LAND OF MIST
know what he has learned ? I should think a rail¬
way-guard is particularly able to pick up such in¬
formation.”
“ You have seen one sitting,” Mailey answered.
“ If you had been present at as many as we and noted
the cumulative effect of the evidence you would not
be sceptical.”
“ That is very possible,” Malone answered. “ And
I daresay my doubts are very annoying to you. And
yet one is bound to be brutally honest in a case like
this. Anyhow, whatever the ultimate cause, I have
seldom spent so thrilling an hour. Heavens ! If it
only is true, and if you had a thousand circles instead
of one, what regeneration would result ? ”
“ That will come,” said Mailey in his patient, deter¬
mined fashion. “We shall live to see it. I am sorry
the thing has not forced conviction upon you. How¬
ever, you must come again.”
But it so chanced that a further experience became
unnecessary. Conviction came in a full flood and in a
strange fashion that very evening. Malone had
hardly got back to the office, and was seated at his
desk drawing up some sort of account from his notes
of all that had happened in the afternoon, when
Mailey burst into the room, his yellow beard bristling
with excitement. He was waving an Evening News
in his hand. Without a word he seated himself be¬
side Malone and turned the paper over. Then he
began to read :
ACCIDENT IN THE CITY
“ This afternoon shortly after five o’clock, an
old house, said to date from the fifteenth century,
suddenly collapsed. It was situated between
DE PROFUNDIS
183
Lesser Colman Street and Elliott Square and
next door to the Veterinary Society’s Head¬
quarters. Some preliminary crackings warned the
occupants and most of them had time to escape.
Three of them, however, James Beale, William
Moorson, and a woman whose name has not been
ascertained, were caught by the falling rubbish.
Two of these seem to have perished at once, but
the third, James Beale, was pinned down by a
large beam and loudly demanded help. A saw
was brought, and one of the occupants of the
house, Samuel Hawkin, showed great gallantry in
an attempt to free the unfortunate man. Whilst
he was sawing the beam, however, a fire broke
out among the debris around him, and though he
persevered most manfully, and continued until he
was himself badly scorched, it was impossible for
him to save Beale, who probably died from
suffocation. Hawkin was removed to the
London Hospital, and it is reported to-night that
he is in no immediate danger.”
“ That’s that ! ” said Mailey, folding up the paper.
“ Now Mr. Thomas Didymus. I leave you to your
conclusions,” and the enthusiast vanished out of the
office as precipitately as he had entered. *
* See Appendix.
CHAPTER XI
WHERE SILAS LINDEN COMES INTO HIS OWN
SILAS LINDEN, prizefighter and fake-medium,
had had some great days in his life — days
crowded with incidents for good or evil. There was
the time when he had backed Rosalind at 100 to 1 in
the Oaks and had spent twenty-four hours of brutal
debauchery on the strength of it. There was the day
also when his favourite right upper-cut had connected
in most accurate and rhythmical fashion with the pro¬
truded chin of Bull Wardell of Whitechapel, whereby
Silas put himself in the way of a Lonsdale Cup and a
try for the championship. But never in all his varied
career had he such a day as this supreme one, so it is
worth our while to follow him to the end of it. Fa¬
natical believers have urged that it is dangerous to
cross the path of spiritual things when the heart is
not clean. Silas Linden’s name might be added to
their list of examples, but his cup of sin was full and
overflowing before the judgment fell.
He emerged from the room of Algernon Mailey
with every reason to know that Lord Roxton’s grip
was as muscular as ever. In the excitement of the
struggle he had hardly realised his injuries, but now he
stood outside the door with his hand to his bruised
throat and a hoarse stream of oaths pouring through
it. His breast was aching also where Malone had
planted his knee, and even the successful blow which
had struck Mailey down had brought retribution, for
184
SILAS LINDEN
185
it had jarred that injured hand of which he had com¬
plained to his brother. Altogether, if Silas Linden
was in a most cursed temper, there was a very good
reason for his mood.
“ I’ll get you one at a time,” he growled, looking
back with his angry pig’s eyes at the outer door of the
flats. “ You wait, my lads, and see ! ” Then with
sudden purpose he swung off down the street.
It was to the Bardsley Square Police Station that he
made his way, and he found the jovial, rubicund,
black-moustached Inspector Murphy seated at his
desk.
“ Well, what do you want ? ” asked the Inspector
in no very friendly voice.
“ I hear you got that medium right and proper.”
“ Yes, we did. I learn he was your brother.”
“ That’s neither here nor there. I don’t hold with
such things in any man. But you got your conviction.
What is there for me in it ? ”
“ Not a shilling ! ”
“What ? Wasn’t it I that gave the information ?
Where would you have been if I had not given you the
office ? ”
“ If there had been a fine we might have allowed
you something. We would have got something, too,
Mr. Melrose sent him to gaol. There is nothing for
anybody.”
“ So you say. I’m damned sure you and those two
women got something out of it. Why the hell should
I give away my own brother for the sake of the likes
of you ? You’ll find your own bird next time.”
Murphy was a choleric man with a sense of his own
importance. He was not to be bearded thus in his
own seat of office. He rose with a very red face.
“ I’ll tell you what, Silas Linden, I could find my
186
THE LAND OF MIST
own bird and never move out of this room. You had
best get out of this quick, or you may chance to stay
here longer than you like. We’ve had complaints of
your treatment of those two children of yours, and the
children’s protection folk are taking an interest. Look
out that we don’t take an interest, too.”
Silas Linden flung out of the room with his temper
hotter than ever, and a couple of rum-and-waters on
his way home did not help to appease him. On the
contrary, he had always been a man who grew more
dangerous in his cups. There were many of his trade
who refused to drink with him.
Silas lived in one of a row of small brick houses
named Bolton’s Court, lying at the back of Totten¬
ham Court Road. His was the end house of a cul-de-
sac, with the side wall of a huge brewery beyond.
These dwellings were very small, which was probably
the reason why the inhabitants, both adults and chil¬
dren, spent most of their time in the street. Several
of the elders were out now, and as Silas passed under
the solitary lamp-post, they scowled at his thick-set
figure, for though the morality of Bolton’s Court was
of no high order, it was none the less graduated and
Silas was at zero. A tall Jewish woman, Rebecca
Levi, thin, aquiline and fierce-eyed, lived next to the
prizefighter. She was standing at her door now,
with a child holding her apron.
“ Mr. Linden,” she said as he passed, “ them
children of yours want more care than they get. Little
Margaret was in here to-day. That child don’t get
enough to eat.”
“You mind your own business, curse you !”
growled Silas. “ I’ve told you before now not to push
that long, sheeny beak of yours into my affairs. If
you was a man I’d know better how to speak to you.”
SILAS LINDEN
187
“If I was a man maybe you wouldn’t dare to speak
to me so. I says it’s a shame, Silas Linden, the way
them children is treated. If it’s a police-court case,
I’ll know what to say.”
“ Oh, go to hell ! ” said Silas, and kicked open his
own unlatched door. A big, frowsy woman with a
shock of dyed hair and some remains of a florid
beauty, now long over-ripe, looked out from the
sitting-room door.
“ Oh, it’s you, is it ? ” said she.
“ Who did you think it was ? The Dook of Wel¬
lington ? ”
“ I thought it was a mad bullock maybe got strayin’
down the lane, and buttin’ down our door.”
“ Funny, ain’t you ? ”
“ Maybe I am, but I hain’t got much to be funny
about. Not a shillin’ in the ’ouse, nor so much as a
pint o’ beer, and these damned children of yours for
ever upsettin’ me.”
“ What have they been a-doin’ of ? ” asked Silas
with a scowl. When this worthy pair could get no
change out of each other, they usually united their
forces against the children. He had entered the
sitting-room and flung himself down in the wooden
armchair.
“ They’ve been seein’ Number One again.”
“ How d’ye know that ? ”
“ I ’eard ’im say somethin’ to ’er about it. ‘ Mother
was there,’ ’e says. Then afterwards ’e ’ad one o’
them sleepy fits.”
“ It’s in the family.”
“ Yes, it is,” retorted the woman. “ If you ’adn’t
sleepy fits you’d get some work to do, like other men.”
“ Oh, shut it, woman ! What I mean is, that my
brother Tom gets them fits, and this lad o’ mine is
188
THE LAND OF MIST
said to be the livin’ image of his uncle. So he had a
trance, had he ? What did you do ? ”
The woman gave an evil grin.
“ I did what you did.”
“ What, the sealin’-wax again ? ”
“ Not much of it. Just enough to wake ’im. It’s
the only way to break ’im of it.”
Silas shrugged his shoulders.
“ ’Ave a care, my lass ! There is talk of the p’lice,
and if they see those burns, you and I may be in the
dock together.”
“ Silas Linden, you are a fool ! Can’t a parent
c’rect ’is own child ? ”
“ Yes, but it ain’t your own child, and stepmothers
has a bad name, see ? There’s that Jew woman next
door. She saw you when you took the clothes’ rope
to little Margery last washin’-day. She spoke to me
about it and again to-day about the food.”
“ What’s the matter with the food ? The greedy
little bastards ! They had a ’unch of bread each when
I ’ad my dinner. A bit of real starvin’ would do them
no ’arm, and I would ’ave less sauce.”
“ What, has Willie sauced you ? ”
“ Yes, when ’e woke up.”
“ After you’d dropped the hot sealin’-wax on him? ”
“ Well, I did it for ’is good, didn’t I ? It was to
cure ’im of a bad ’abit.”
“ Wot did he say ? ”
“ Cursed me good and proper, ’e did. All about his
mother — wot ’is mother would do to me. I’m dam’
well sick of ’is mother ! ”
“ Don’t say too much about Amy. She was a good
woman.”
“ So you say now, Silas Linden, but by all accounts
you ’ad a queer way of showin’ it when she was alive.”
SILAS LINDEN
189
“ Hold your jaw, woman ! I’ve had enough to vex
me to-day without you startin’ your tantrums. You’re
jealous of the grave. That’s wot’s the matter with
you.”
“ And ’er brats can insult me as they like — me that
’as cared for you these five years.”
“ No, I didn’t say that. If he insulted you, it’s up
to me to deal with him. Where’s that strap ? Go,
fetch him in ! ”
The woman came across and kissed him.
“ I’ve only you, Silas.”
“ Oh hell ! don’t muck me about. I’m not in the
mood. Go and fetch Willie in. You can bring
Margery also. It takes the sauce out of her also, for
I think she feels it more than he does.”
The woman left the room, but was back in a mo¬
ment.
“ ’E’s off again ! ” said she. “ It fair gets on my
nerves to see him. Come ’ere, Silas ! ’Ave a look ! ”
They went together into the back kitchen. A small
fire was smouldering in the grate. Beside it, huddled
up in a chair, sat a fair-haired boy of ten. His delicate
face was upturned to the ceiling. His eyes were
half-closed, and only the whites visible. There was a
look of great peace upon his thin, spiritual features.
In the corner a poor little cowed mite of a girl, a year
or two younger, was gazing with sad, frightened eyes
at her brother.
“ Looks awful, don’t ’e ? ” said the woman.
“ Don’t seem to belong to this world. I wish to God
’e’d make a move for the other. ’E don’t do much
good ’ere.”
“Here, wake up ! ” cried Silas. “ None of your
foxin’ ! Wake up ! D’ye hear ? ” He shook him
roughly by the shoulder, but the boy still slumbered
190
THE LAND OF MIST
on. The backs of his hands, which lay upon his lap,
were covered with bright scarlet blotches.
“ My word, you’ve dropped enough hot wax on him.
D’you mean to tell me, Sarah, it took all that to
wake him ? ”
“ Maybe I dropped one or two extra for luck. ’E
does aggravate me so that I can ’ardly ’old myself.
But you wouldn’t believe ’ow little ’e can feel when
’e’s like that. You can ’owl in ’is ear. It’s all lost
on ’im. See ’ere ! ”
She caught the lad by the hair and shook him
violently. He groaned and shivered. Then he sank
back into his serene trance.
“ Say ! ” cried Silas, stroking his stubbled chin as
he looked thoughtfully at his son, “ I think there is
money in this if it is handled to rights. Wot about a
turn on the halls, eh ? ‘ The Boy Wonder or How is
it Done ? ’ There’s a name for the bills. Then folk
know his uncle’s name, so they will be able to take
him on trust.”
“ I thought you was goin’ into the business your¬
self.”
“ That’s a wash-out,” snarled Silas. “ Don’t you
talk of it. It’s finished.”
“ Been caught out already ? ”
“ I tell you not to talk about it, woman ! ” the man
shouted. “ I’m just in the mood to give you the
hidin’ of your life, so don’t you get my goat, or you’ll
be sorry.” He stepped across and pinched the boy’s
arm with all his force. “ By Cripes, he’s a wonder !
Let us see how far it will go.”
He turned to the sinking fire and with the tongs he
picked out a half-red ember. This he placed on the
boy’s head. There was a smell of burning hair, then
SILAS LINDEN
191
of roasting flesh, and suddenly, with a scream of pain,
the boy came back to his senses.
“ Mother ! Mother ! ” he cried. The girl in the
corner took up the cry. They were like two lambs
bleating together.
“ Damn your mother ! ” cried the woman, shaking
Margery by the collar of her frail black dress. “ Stop
squallin’, you little stinker ! ” She struck the child
with her open hand across the face. Little Willie ran
at her and kicked her shins until a blow from Silas
knocked him into the corner. The brute picked up a
stick and lashed the two cowering children, while
they screamed for mercy, and tried to cover their little
bodies from the cruel blows.
“ You stop that ! ” cried a voice in the passage.
“ It’s that blasted Jewess ! ” said the woman. She
went to the kitchen door. “ What the ’ell are you
doing in our ’ouse ? ’Op it, quick, or it will be the
worse for you ! ”
“ If I hear them children cry out once more, I’m
off for the police.”
“ Get out of it ! ’Op it, I tell you ! ” The frowsy
stepmother bore down in full sail, but the lean, lank
Jewess stood her ground. Next instant they met.
Mrs. Silas Linden screamed, and staggered back with
blood running down her face where four nails had left
as many red furrows. Silas, with an oath, pushed his
wife out of the way, seized the intruder round the
waist, and slung her bodily through the door. She lay
in the roadway with her long gaunt limbs sprawling
about like some half-slain fowl. Without rising, she
shook her clenched hands in the air and screamed
curses at Silas, who slammed the door and left her,
while neighbours ran from all sides to hear particulars
of the fray. Mrs. Linden, staring through the front
192
THE LAND OF MIST
blind, saw with some relief that her enemy was able to
rise and to limp back to her own door, whence she
could be heard delivering a long shrill harangue as to
her wrongs. The wrongs of a Jew are not lightly
forgotten, for the race can both love and hate.
“ She’s all right, Silas. I thought maybe you ’ad
killed ’er.”
“ It’s what she wants, the damned canting sheeny.
It’s bad enough to have her in the street without her
daring to set foot inside my door. I’ll cut the hide
off that young Willie. He’s the cause of it all. Where
is he ? ”
“ They tan up to then room, \ heard them lock
the door.”
“ A lot of good that will do them.”
“ I wouldn’t touch ’em now, Silas. The neighbours
is all up and about and we needn’t ask for trouble.”
“ You’re right ! ” he grumbled. “ It will keep till
I come back.”
“ Where are you goin’ ? ”
“ Down to the Admiral Vernon. There’s a chance
of a job as sparrin’ partner to Long Davis. He goes
into training on Monday and needs a man of my
weight.”
“ Well, I’ll expect you when I see you. I get too
much of that pub of yours. I know what the Admiral
Vernon means.”
“ It means the only place in God’s earth where I
get any peace or rest,” said Silas.
“ A fat lot I get — or ever ’ave ’ad since I married
you.”
“ That’s right. Grouse away ! ” he growled. “ If
grousin’ made a man happy, you’d be the champion.”
He picked up his hat and slouched off down the street,
SILAS LINDEN
193
his heavy tread resounding upon the great wooden
flap which covered the cellars of the brewery.
Up in a dingy attic two little figures were seated
on the side of a wretched straw-stuffed bed, their arms
enlacing each other, their cheeks touching, their tears
mingling. They had to cry in silence, for any sound
might remind the ogre downstairs of their existence.
Now and again one would break into an uncontroll¬
able sob, and the other would whisper, “ Hush !
Hush ! Oh hush !” Then suddenly they heard the
slam of the outer door and that heavy tread booming
over the wooden flap. They squeezed each other in
their joy. Perhaps when he came back he might kill
them, but for a few short hours at least they were
safe from him. As to the woman, she was spiteful and
vicious, but she did not seem so deadly as the man. In
a dim way they felt that he had hunted their mother
into her grave and might do as much for them.
The room was dark save for the light which came
through the single dirty window. It cast a bar across
the floor, but all round was black shadow. Suddenly
the little boy stiffened, clasped his sister with a tighter
grip, and stared rigidly into the darkness.
“ She’s coming ! ” he muttered. “ She’s coming ! ”
Little Margery clung to him.
“ Oh, Willie, is it mother ? ”
“ It is a light — a beautiful yellow light. Can you
not see it, Margery ? ”
But the little girl, like all the world, was without
vision. To her all was darkness.
“ Tell me, Willie,” she whispered, in a solemn voice.
She was not really frightened, for many times before
had the dead mother returned in the watches of the
night to comfort her stricken children.
194
THE LAND OF MIST
“Yes, yes, she is coming now. Oh, mother !
Mother ! ”
“What does she say, Willie ? ”
“ Oh, she is beautiful. She is not crying. She is
smiling. It is like the picture we saw of the angel.
She looks so happy. Dear, dear mother ! Now she is
speaking. ‘ It is over,’ she says. ‘ It is all over.’
She says it again. Now she beckons with her hand.
We are to follow. She has moved to the door.”
“ Oh, Willie, I dare not.”
“ Yes, yes, she nods her head. She bids us fear
nothing. Now she has passed through the door.
Come, Margery, come, or we shall lose her.”
The two little mites crept across the room and
Willie unlocked the door. The mother stood at the
head of the stair beckoning them onwards. Step by
step they followed her down into the empty kitchen.
The woman seemed to have gone out. All was still
in the house. The phantom still beckoned them on.
“ We are to go out.”
“ Oh, Willie, we have no hats.”
“We must follow, Madge. She is smiling and
waving.”
“ Father will kill us for this.”
“ She shakes her head. She says we are to fear
nothing. Come ! ”
They threw open the door and were in the street.
Down the deserted court they followed the gleaming,
gracious presence, and through a tangle of low streets,
and so out into the crowded rush of Tottenham Court
Road. Once or twice amid all that blind torrent of
humanity, some man or woman, blessed with the
precious gift of discernment, would start and stare
as they were aware of an angel presence and of two
little white-faced children who followed behind, the
SILAS LINDEN
195
boy with fixed, absorbed gaze, the girl glancing ever
in terror over her shoulder. Down the long street
they passed, then again amid the humbler dwellings,
and so at last to a quiet drab line of brick houses.
On the step of one the spirit had halted.
“We are to knock,” said Willie.
“ Oh, Willie, what shall we say ? We don’t know
them.”
“ We are to knock,” he repeated, stoutly. Rat-tat !
“ It’s all right, Madge. She is clapping her hands
and laughing.”
So it was that Mrs. Tom Linden, sitting lonely in
her misery and brooding over her martyr in gaol, was
summoned suddenly to the door, and found two little
apologetic figures outside it. A few words, a rush of
woman’s instinct, and her arms were round the chil¬
dren. These battered little skiffs, who had started
their life’s voyage so sadly, had found a harbour of
peace where no storm should vex them more.
There were some strange happenings in Bolton’s
Court that night. Some folk thought they had no
relation to each other. One or two thought they had.
The British Law saw nothing and had nothing to say.
In the second last house, a keen, hawklike face
peered from behind a window-blind into the darkened
street. A shaded candle was behind that fearful face,
dark as death, remorseless as the tomb. Behind Re¬
becca Levi stood a young man whose features showed
that he sprang from the same Oriental race. For an
hour — for a second hour — the woman had sat without
a word, watching, watching. ... At the en¬
trance to the court there was a hanging lamp which
cast a circle of yellow light. It was on this pool of
radiance that her brooding eyes were fixed.
196
THE LAND OF MIST
Then suddenly she saw what she had waited for.
She started and hissed out a word. The young man
rushed from the room and into the street. He van¬
ished through a side door into the brewery.
Drunken Silas Linden was coming home. He was in
a gloomy, sulken state of befuddlement. A sense of
injury filled his mind. He had not gained the billet
he sought. His injured hand had been against him.
He had hung about the bar waiting for drinks and had
got some, but not enough. Now he was in a dangerous
mood. Woe to the man, woman or child who crossed
his path ! He thought savagely of the Jewess who
lived in that darkened house. He thought savagely of
all his neighbours. They would stand between him
and his children, would they ? He would show them.
The very next morning he would take them both out
into the street and strap them within an inch of their
lives. That would show them all what Silas Linden
thought of their opinion. Why should he not do it
now ? If he were to waken the neighbours up with
the shrieks of his children, it would show them once
for all that they could not defy him with impunity.
The idea pleased him. He stepped more briskly out.
He was almost at his door when
It was never quite clear how it was that the cellar-
flap was not securely fastened that night. The jury
were inclined to blame the brewery, but the coroner
pointed out that Linden was a heavy man, that he
might have fallen on it if he were drunk, and that all
reasonable care had been taken. It was an eighteen-
foot fall upon jagged stones, and his back was broken.
They did not find him till next morning, for, curiously
enough, his neighbour, the Jewess, never heard the
sound of the accident. The doctor seemed to think
that death had not come quickly. There were hor-
SILAS LINDEN
197
rible signs that he had lingered. Down in the dark¬
ness, vomiting blood and beer, the man ended his
filthy life with a filthy death.
One need not waste words or pity over the woman
whom he had left. Relieved from her terrible mate,
she returned to that music-hall stage from which he,
by force of his virility and bull-like strength, had
lured her. She tried to regain her place with :
“ Hi ! Hi ! Hi ! I’m the dernier cri.
The girl with the cart-wheel hat, ”
which was the ditty which had won her her name. But
it became too painfully evident that she was anything
but the dernier cri, and that she could never get back.
Slowly she sank from big halls to small halls, from
small halls to pubs, and so ever deeper and deeper,
sucked into the awful, silent quicksands of life which
drew her down and down until that vacuous painted
face and frowsy head were seen no more.
CHAPTER XII
THERE ARE HEIGHTS AND THERE ARE DEPTHS
THE Institut Metapsychique was an imposing
stone building in the Avenue Wagram with a
door like a baronial castle. Here it was that the three
friends presented themselves late in the evening. A
footman showed them into a reception-room where
they were presently welcomed by Dr. Maupuis in per¬
son. The famous authority on psychic science was a
short broad man with a large head, a clean-shaven
face, and an expression in which worldly wisdom and
kindly altruism were blended. His conversation was
in French with Mailey and Roxton, who both spoke
the language well, but he had to fall back upon broken
English with Malone, who could only utter still more
broken French in reply. He expressed his pleasure at
their visit, as only a graceful Frenchman can, said a
few words as to the wonderful qualities of Panbek,
the Galician medium, and finally led the way down¬
stairs to the room in which the experiments were to
be conducted. His air of vivid intelligence and pene¬
trating sagacity had already shown the strangers how
preposterous were those theories which tried to
explain away his wonderful results by the supposition
that he was a man who was the easy victim of im¬
postors.
Descending a winding stair they found themselves
in a large chamber which looked at first glance like a
chemical laboratory, for shelves full of bottles, retorts,
test-tubes, scales and other apparatus lined the walls.
198
HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS
199
It was more elegantly furnished, however, than a mere
workshop, and a large massive oak table occupied the
centre of the room with a fringe of comfortable chairs.
At one end of the room was a large portrait of Pro¬
fessor Crookes, which was flanked by a second of
Lombroso, while between them was a remarkable
picture of one of Eusapia Palladino’s seances. Round
the table there was gathered a group of men who were
talking in low tones, too much absorbed in their own
conversation to take much notice of the newcomers.
“ Three of these are distinguished visitors like your¬
selves,” said Dr. Maupuis. “ Two others are my
laboratory assistants, Dr. Sauvage and Dr. Buisson.
The others are Parisians of note. The Press is repre¬
sented to-day by Monsieur Forte, sub-editer of the
Matin. The tall, dark man who looks like a retired
general you probably know. . . . Not? That is
Professor Charles Richet, our honoured doyen, who
has shown great courage in this matter, though he
has not quite reached the same conclusion as you,
Monsieur Mailey. But that also may come. You
must remember that we have to show policy, and that
the less we mix this with religion, the less trouble we
shall have with the Church, which is still very pow¬
erful in this country. The distinguished-looking man
with the high forehead is the Count de Grammont.
The gentleman with the head of a Jupiter and the
white beard is Flammarion, the astronomer. Now,
gentleman,” he added, in a louder voice, “if you will
take your places we shall get to work.”
They sat at random round the long table, the three
Britons keeping together. At one end a large photo¬
graphic camera was reared aloft. Two zinc buckets
also occupied a prominent position upon a side table.
The door was locked and the key given to Professor
200
THE LAND OF MIST
Richet. Dr. Maupuis sat at one end of the table with
a small middle-aged man, moustached, bald-headed
and intelligent, upon his right.
“ Some of you have not met Monsieur Panbek,”
said the doctor. “ Permit me to present him to you.
Monsieur Panbek, gentlemen, has placed his remark¬
able powers at our disposal for scientific investigation,
and we all owe him a debt of gratitude. He is now in
his forty-seventh year, a man of normal health, of a
neuroarthritic disposition. Some hyper-excitability of
his nervous system is indicated, and his reflexes are
exaggerated, but his blood-pressure is normal. The
pulse is now at seventy-two, but rises to one hundred
under trance conditions. There are zones of marked
hyper-aesthesia on his limbs. His visual field and
pupillary reaction is normal. I do not know that
there is anything to add.”
“ I might say,” remarked Professor Richet, “ that
the hyper-sensibilicy is moral as well as physical.
Panbek is impressionable and full of emotion, with
the temperament of the poet and all those little
weaknesses, if we may call them so, which the poet
pays as a ransom for his gifts. A great medium is a
great artist and is to be judged by the same stand¬
ards.”
“ He seems to me, gentlemen, to be preparing you
for the worst,” said the medium with a charming
smile, while the company laughed in sympathy.
“ We are sitting in the hopes that some remarkable
materialisations which we have recently had may be
renewed in such a form that we may get a permanent
record of them.” Dr. Maupuis was talking in his dry,
unemotional voice. “ These materialisations have
taken very unexpected forms of late, and I would beg
the company to repress any feelings of fear, however
HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS
201
strange these forms may be, as a calm and judicial
atmosphere is most necessary. We shall now turn out
the white light and begin with the lowest degree of
red light until the conditions will admit of further
illumination.”
The lamps were controlled from Dr. Maupuis’
seat at the table. For a moment they were plunged
in utter darkness. Then a dull red glow came in the
corner, enough to show the dim outlines of the men
round the table. There was no music and no religious
atmosphere of any sort. The company conversed in
whispers.
“ This is different to your English procedure,” said
Malone.
“ Very,” Mailey answered. “ It seems to me that
we are wide open to anything which may come. It’s
all wrong. They don’t realise the danger.”
“ What danger can there be ? ”
“ Well, from my point of view, it is like sitting at
the edge of a pond which may have harmless frogs
in it, or may have man-eating crocodiles. You can’t
tell what may come.”
Professor Richet, who speaks excellent English,
overheard the words.
“ I know your views, Mr. Mailey,” said he.
“ Don’t think that I treat them lightly. Some things
which I have seen make me appreciate your compari¬
son of the frog and the crocodile. In this very room
I have been conscious of the presence of creatures
which could, if moved to anger, make our experiments
seem rather hazardous. I believe with you that evil
people here might bring an evil reflection into our
circle.” «
“ I am glad, sir, that you are moving in our direc-
202
THE LAND OF MIST
tion,” said Mailey, for like everyone else he regarded
Richet as one of the world’s great men.
“ Moving, perhaps, and yet I cannot claim to be
altogether with you yet. The latent powers of the
human incarnate spirit may be so wonderful that they
may extend to regions which seem at present to be
quite beyond their scope. As an old materialist, I
fight every inch of the ground, though I admit that I
have lost several lines of trenches. My illustrious
friend Challenger still holds his front intact, as I
understand.”
“ Yes, sir,” said Malone, “ and yet I have some
hopes - ”
“ Hush ! ” cried Maupuis in an eager voice.
There was dead silence. Then there came a sound
of uneasy movement with a strange flapping vibra¬
tion.
“ The bird ! ” said an awestruck whisper.
There was silence and then once again came the
sound of movement and an impatient flap.
“ Have you all ready, Rene ? ” asked the doctor.
“ All is ready.”
“ Then shoot ! ”
The flash of the Iuminant mixture filled the room,
while the shutter of the camera fell. In that sudden
glare of light the visitors had a momentary glimpse
of a marvellous sight. The medium lay with his head
upon his hands in apparent insensibility. Upon his
rounded shoulders there was perched a huge bird
of prey — a large falcon or an eagle. For one instant
the strange picture was stamped upon their retinas
even as it was upon the photographic plate. Then
the darkness closed down again, save for the two red
lamps, like the eyes of some baleful demon lurking
in the corner.
HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS
203
“ My word ! ” gasped Malone. “ Did you see
it ?”
“ A crocodile out of the pond,” said Mailey.
“ But harmless,” added Professor Richet. “ The
bird has been with us several times. He moves his
wings, as you have heard, but otherwise is inert. We
may have another and a more dangerous visitor.”
The flash of the light had, of course, dispelled all
ectoplasm. It was necessary to begin again. The
company may have sat for a quarter of an hour when
Richet touched Mailey’s arm.
“ Do you smell anything, Monsieur Mailey ?”
Mailey sniffed the air.
“ Yes, surely, it reminds me of our London Zoo.”
“ There is another more ordinary analogy. Have
you been in a warm room with a wet dog ? ”
“ Exactly,” said Mailey. “ That is a perfect de¬
scription. But where is the dog ? ”
“ It is not a dog. Wait a little ! Wait ! ”
The animal smell became more pronounced. It
was overpowering. Then suddenly Malone became
conscious of something moving round the table. In
the dim red light he was aware of a mis-shapen figure,
crouching, ill-formed, with some resemblance to man.
He silhouetted it against the dull radiance. It was
bulky, broad, with a bullet-head, a short neck, heavy,
clumsy shoulders. It slouched slowly round the circle.
Then it stopped, and a cry of surprise, not unmixed
with fear, came from one of the sitters.
“ Do not be alarmed,” said Dr. Maupuis’ quiet
voice. “ It is the Pithecanthropus. He is harm¬
less.” Had it been a cat which had strayed into the
room the scientist could not have discussed it more
calmly.
204 THE LAND OF MIST
“ It has long claws. It laid them on my neck,”
cried a voice.
“ Yes, yes. He means it as a caress.”
“You may have my share of his caresses ! ” cried
the sitter in a quavering voice.
“ Do not repulse him. It might be serious. He
is well disposed. But he has his feelings, no doubt,
like the rest of us.”
The creature had resumed its stealthy progress.
Now it turned the end of the table and stood behind
the three friends. Its breath came in quick puffs at
the back of their necks. Suddenly Lord Roxton gave
a loud exclamation of disgust.
“ Quiet ! Quiet ! ” said Maupuis.
“ It’s licking my hand ! ” cried Roxton.
An instant later Malone was aware of a shaggy
head extended between Lord Roxton and himself.
With his left hand he could feel long, coarse hair.
It turned towards him, and it needed all his self-
control to hold his hand still when a long soft tongue
caressed it. Then it was gone.
“ In heaven’s name, what is it ? ” he asked.
“ We have been asked not to photograph it. Pos¬
sibly the light would infuriate it. The command
through the medium was definite. We can only say
that it is either an ape-like man or a man-like ape.
We have seen it more clearly than to-night. The
face is Simian, but the brow is straight; the arms long,
the hands huge, the body covered with hair.”
“ Tom Linden gave us something better than that,”
whispered Mailey. He spoke low but Richet caught
the words.
“ All nature is the field of our study, Mr. Mailey.
It is not for us to choose. Shall we classify the
flowers but neglect the fungi ? ”
HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS
205
“ But you admit it is dangerous.”
“ The X-rays were dangerous. How many martyrs
lost their arms, joint by joint, before those dangers
were realised. And yet it was necessary. So it is
with us. We do not know yet what it is that we are
doing. But if we can indeed show the world that this
Pithecanthropus can come to us from the Invisible,
and depart again as it came, then the knowledge is so
tremendous that even if he tore us to pieces with
those formidable claws, it would none the less be our
duty to go forward with our experiments.”
“ Science can be heroic,” said Mailey. “ Who can
deny it ? And yet I have heard these very scientific
men tell us that we imperil our reason when we try to
get in touch with spiritual forces. Gladly would we
sacrifice our reason, or our lives, if we could help man¬
kind. Should we not do as much for spiritual advance
as they for material ? ”
The lights had been turned up and there was a
pause for relaxation before the great experiment of
the evening was attempted. The men broke into little
groups, chatting in hushed tones over their recent
experience. Looking round at the comfortable room
with its up-to-date appliances, the strange bird and
the stealthy monster seemed like dreams. And yet
they had been very real, as was shown presently by
the photographer, who had been allowed to leave and
now rushed excitedly from the adjacent dark room
waving the plate which he had just developed and
fixed. He held it up against the light, and there, sure
enough, was the bald head of the medium sunk be¬
tween his hands, and crouching closely over his
shoulders the outline of that ominous figure. Dr.
Maupuis rubbed his little fat hands with glee. Like
all pioneers he had endured much persecution from
206
THE LAND OF MIST
the Parisian Press, and every fresh phenomenon was
another weapon for his own defence.
“Nous marchons ! Hein ! Nous marchons !>} he
kept on repeating, while Richet, lost in thought, an¬
swered mechanically:
“ Oui, mon ami , vous marchez!”
The little Galician was sitting nibbling a biscuit
with a glass of red wine before him. Malone went
round to him and found that he had been in America
and could talk a little English.
“ Are you tired ? Does it exhaust you ? ”
“ In moderation, no. Two sittings a week. Be¬
hold my allowance. The doctor will allow no more.”
“ Do you remember anything ? ”
“ It comes to me like dreams. A little here — a
little there.”
“ Has the power always been with you ? ”
“Yes, yes, ever since a child. And my father, and
my uncle. Their talk was of visions. For me, I would
go and sit in the woods and strange animals would
come round me. It did me such a surprise when I
found that the other children could not see them.”
“ Est ce que vous etes pretes?” asked Dr. Maupuis.
“ Parfaitement,” answered the medium, brushing
away the crumbs. The doctor lit a spirit-lamp under
one of the zinc buckets.
“ We are about to co-operate in an experiment,
gentlemen, which should, once and for all, convince
the world as to the existence of these ectoplasmic
forms. Their nature may be disputed, but their ob¬
jectivity will be beyond doubt from now onwards
unless my plans miscarry. I would first explain these
two buckets to you. This one, which I am warming,
contains paraffin, which is now in process of liquefac¬
tion. This other contains water. Those who have
HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS
207
not been present before must understand that Pan-
bek’s phenomena occur usually in the same order, and
that at this stage of the evening we may expect the
apparition of the old man. To-night we lie in wait
for the old man, and we shall, I hope, immortalise
him in the history of psychic research. I resume my
seat, and I switch on the red light, Number Three,
which allows of greater visibility.”
The circle was now quite visible. The medium’s
head had fallen forward and his deep snoring showed
that he was already in trance. Every face was turned
towards him, for the wonderful process of materialisa¬
tion was going on before their very eyes. At first it
was a swirl of light, steam-like vapour which circled
round his head. Then there was a waving, as of
white diaphanous drapery, behind him. It thickened.
It coalesced. It hardened in outline and took definite
shape. There was a head. There were shoulders.
Arms grew out from them. Yes, there could not be
a doubt of it — there was a man, an old man, standing
behind the chair. He moved his head slowly from
side to side. He seemed to be peering in indecision
towards the company. One could imagine that he
was asking himself, “ Where am I, and what am I here
for ? ”
“ He does not speak, but he hears and has intelli¬
gence,” said Dr. Maupuis, glancing over his shoulder
at the apparition. “ We are here, sir, in the hope
that you will aid us in a very important experiment.
May we count upon your co-operation ? ”
The figure bowed its head in assent.
“ We thank you. When you have attained your
full power, you will, no doubt, move away from the
medium.”
The figure again bowed, but remained motionless.
208
THE LAND OF MIST
It seemed to Malone that it was growing denser every
moment. He caught glimpses of the face. It was
certainly an old man, heavy-faced, long-nosed, with a
curiously projecting lower lip. Suddenly with a
brusque movement it stood clear from Panbek and
stepped out into the room.
“ Now, sir,” said Maupuis in his precise fashion.
“ You will perceive the zinc bucket upon the left. I
would beg you to have the kindness to approach it and
to plunge your right hand into it.”
The figure moved across. He seemed interested in
the buckets, for he examined them with some attention.
Then he dipped one of his hands into that which the
doctor had indicated.
“ Excellent ! ” cried Maupuis, his voice shrill with
excitement. “ Now, sir, might I ask you to have the
kindness to dip the same hand into the cold water of
the other bucket.”
The form did so.
“ Now, sir, you would bring our experiment to
complete success if you would lay your hand upon the
table, and while it is resting there you would yourself
dematerialise and return into the medium.”
The figure bowed its comprehension and assent.
Then it slowly advanced towards the table, stooped
over it, extended its hand — and vanished. The heavy
breathing of the medium ceased, and he moved un¬
easily as if about to wake. Maupuis turned on the
white light, and threw up his hands with a loud cry of
wonder and joy which was echoed by the company.
On the shining wooden surface of the table there
lay a delicate yellow-pink glove of paraffin, broad at
the knuckles, thin at the wrist, two of the fingers
bent down to the palm. Maupuis was beside himself
with delight. He broke off a small bit of wax from
HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS
209
the wrist and handed it to an assistant, who hurried
from the room.
“ It is final ! ” he cried. “ What can they say now ?
Gentlemen, I appeal to you. You have seen what
occurred. Can any of you give any rational explana¬
tion of that paraffin mould, save that it was the result
of dematerialisation of the hand within it ? ”
“ I can see no other solution,” Richet answered.
“ But you have to do with very obstinate and very
prejudiced people. If they cannot deny it, they will
probably ignore it.”
“ The Press is here and the Press represents the
public,” said Maupuis. “ For the Press Engleesh,
Monsieur Malone,” he went on in his broken way.
“ Is it that you can see any answer ? ”
“ I can see none,” Malone answered.
And you, monsieur ? ” addressing the representa¬
tive of the Matin ”
The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.
“ For us who had the privilege of being present it
was indeed convincing,” said he, “ and yet you will
certainly be met with objections. They will not realise
how fragile this thing is. They will say that the
medium brought it on his person and laid it upon the
table.”
Maupuis clapped his hands triumphantly. His
assistant had just brought him a slip of paper from
the next room.
“ Your objection is already answered,” he cried,
waving the paper in the air. “ I had foreseen it and
I had put some cholesterine among the paraffin in the
zinc pail. You may have observed that I broke off a
corner of the mould. It was for purpose of chemical
analysis. This has now been done. It is here and
cholesterine has been detected.”
210
THE LAND OF MIST
“Excellent !” said the French journalist. “You
have closed the last hole. But what next ? ”
“ What we have done once we can do again,” Mau-
puis answered. “ I will prepare a number of these
moulds. In some cases I will have fists and hands.
Then I will have plaster casts made from them. I
will run the plaster inside the mould. It is delicate,
but it can be done. I will have dozens of them so
created, and I will send them broadcast to every capital
in the world that people may see with their own eyes.
Will that not at last convince them of the reality of
our conclusions ? ”
“ Do not hope for too much, my poor friend,” said
Richet, with his hand upon the shoulder of the en¬
thusiast. “You have not yet realised the enormous
vis inertia? of the world. But as you have said,
‘ V ous marchez — vous marchez toujours.’ ”
“ And our march is regulated,” said Mailey.
“ There is a gradual release to accommodate it to the
receptivity of mankind.”
Richet smiled and shook his head.
“ Always transcendental, Monsieur Mailey ! Al¬
ways seeing more than meets the eye and changing
science into philosophy ! I fear you are incorrigible.
Is your position reasonable ? ”
“ Professor Richet,” said Mailey, very earnestly,
“ I would beg you to answer the same question. I
have a deep respect for your talents and complete
sympathy with your caution, but have you not come
to the dividing of the ways ? You are now in the
position that you admit — you must admit — that our
intelligent apparition in human form, built up from the
substance which you have yourself named ectoplasm,
can walk the room and carry out instructions while the
medium lay senseless under our eyes, and yet you hesi-
HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS
211
tate to assert that spirit has an independent existence.
Is that reasonable ? ”
Richet smiled and shook his head. Without answer¬
ing, he turned to bid farewell to Dr. Maupuis, and to
offer him his congratulations. A few minutes later
the company had broken up and our friends were in a
taxi speeding towards their hotel.
Malone was deeply impressed with what he had
seen, and he sat up half the night drawing up a full
account of it for the Central News, with the names
of those who had endorsed the results — honourable
names which no one in the world could associate with
folly or deception.
“ Surely, surely, this will be a turning-point and
an epoch.” So ran his dream. Two days later he
opened the great London dailies one after the other.
Columns about football. Columns about golf. A full
page as to the value of shares. A long and earnest
correspondence in The Times about the habits of the
lapwing. Not one word in any of them as to the
wonders which he had seen and reported. Mailey
laughed at his dejected face.
“ A mad world, my masters,” said he. “ A crazy
world ! But the end is not yet ! ” *
* See Appendix.
CHAPTER XIII
IN WHICH PROFESSOR CHALLENGER GOES FORTH
TO BATTLE
PROFESSOR CHALLENGER was in a bad
humour, and when that was so his household
were made aware of it. Neither were the effects of
his wrath confined to those around him, for most of
those terrible letters which appeared from time to
time in the Press, flaying and scarifying some unhappy
opponent, were thunderbolt flashes from an offended
Jove who sat in sombre majesty in his study-throne
on the heights of a Victoria flat. Servants would
hardly dare to enter the room where, glooming and
glowering, the maned and bearded head looked up
from his papers as a lion from a bone. Only Enid
could dare him at such a time, and even she felt oc¬
casionally that sinking of the heart which the bravest of
tamers may experience as he unbars the gate of the
cage. She was not safe from the acridity of his
tongue, but at least she need not fear physical violence,
which was well within the possibilities for others.
Sometimes these Berserk fits of the famous Pro¬
fessor arose from material causes. “ Hepatic, sir,
hepatic 1 ” he would explain in extenuation after some
aggravated assault. But on this particular occasion
he had a very definite cause for discontent. It was
Spiritualism !
He never seemed to get away from the accursed
superstition — a thing which ran counter to the whole
212
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
213
work and philosophy of his lifetime. He attempted
to pooh-pooh it, to laugh at it, to ignore it with con¬
tempt, but the confounded thing would insist upon
obtruding itself once more. On Monday he would
write it finally off his books, and before Saturday he
would be up to his neck in it again. And the thing
was so absurd ! It seemed to him that his mind was
being drawn from the great pressing material prob¬
lems of the Universe in order to waste itself upon
Grimm’s fairy tales or the ghosts of a sensational
novelist.
Then things grew worse. First Malone, who had
in his simple fashion been an index figure representing
the normal clear-headed human being, had in some
way been bedevilled by these people and had com¬
mitted himself to their pernicious views. Then Enid,
his ewe-lamb, his one real link with humanity, had
also been corrupted. She had agreed with Malone’s
conclusions. She had even hunted up a good deal of
evidence of her own. In vain he had himself investi¬
gated a case and proved beyond a shadow of a doubt
that the medium was a designing villain who brought
messages from a widow’s dead husband in order to get
the woman into his power. It was a clear case and
Enid admitted it. But neither she nor Malone would
allow any general application. “ There are rogues
in every line of life,” they would say. “We must
judge every movement by the best and not by the
worst.”
All this was bad enough, but worse still was in store.
He had been publicly humiliated by the Spiritualists —
and that by a man who admitted that he had had no
education and would in any other subject in the world
have been seated like a child at the Professor’s feet.
214 THE LAND OF MIST
And yet in public debate ... but the story must
be told.
Be it known then that Challenger, greatly despising
all opposition and with no knowledge of the real
strength of the case to be answered, had, in a fatal
moment, actually asserted that he would descend from
Olympus and would meet in debate any representative
whom the other party should select. “ I am well
aware,” he wrote, “ that by such condescension I, like
any other man of science of equal standing, run the
risk of giving a dignity to these absurd and grotesque
aberrations of the human brain which they could
otherwise not pretend to claim, but we must do our
duty to the public, and we must occasionally turn
from our serious work and spare a moment in order to
sweep away those ephemeral cobwebs which might
collect and become offensive if they were not dispersed
by the broom of Science.” Thus, in a most self-con¬
fident fashion, did Goliath go forth to meet his tiny
antagonist, an ex-printer’s assistant and now the
editor of what Challenger would describe as an obscure
print devoted to matters of the spirit.
The particulars of the debate are public property,
and it is not necessary to tell in any great detail that
painful event. It will be remembered that the great
man of Science went down to the Queen’s Hall accom¬
panied by many rationalist sympathisers who desired
to see the final destruction of the visionaries. A large
number of these poor deluded creatures also attended,
hoping against hope that their champion might not
be entirely immolated upon the altar of outraged
Science. Between them the two factions filled the
hall, and glared at each other with as much enmity
as did the Blues and the Greens a thousand years
before in the Hippodrome of Constantinople. There
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
215
on the left of the platform were the solid ranks of
those hard and unbending rationalists who look upon
the Victorian agnostics as credulous, and refresh their
faith by the periodical perusal of the Literary Gazette
and the Freethinker.
There, too, was Dr. Joseph Baumer, the famous
lecturer upon the absurdities of religion, together
with Mr. Edward Mould, who has insisted so elo¬
quently upon man’s claim to ultimate putridity of the
body and extinction of the soul. On the other side
Mailey’s yellow beard flamed like an oriflamme. His
wife sat on one side of him and Mervin, the journalist,
on the other, while dense ranks of earnest men and
women from the Queen Square Spiritual Alliance,
from the Psychic College, from the Stead Bureau, and
from the outlying churches, assembled in order to
encourage their champion in his hopeless task. The
genial faces of Bolsover, the grocer, with his Ham¬
mersmith friends, Terbane, the railway medium, the
Reverend Charles Mason with his ascetic features,
Tom Linden, now happily released from bondage,
Mrs. Linden, the Crewe circle, Dr. Atkinson, Lord
Roxton, Malone, and many other familiar faces were
to be picked out amid that dense wall of humanity.
Between the two parties, solemn and stolid and fat,
sat Judge Gaverson of the King’s Bench, who had
consented to preside. It was an interesting and sug¬
gestive fact that in this critical debate at which the
very core or vital centre of real religion was the issue,
the organised churches were entirely aloof and neutral.
Drowsy and semi-conscious, they could not discern
that the live intellect of the nation was really holding
an inquisition upon their bodies to determine whether
they were doomed to the extinction towards which
they were rapidly drifting, or whether a resuscitation
216 THE LAND OF MIST
in other forms was among the possibilities of the
future.
In front, on one side, with his broad-browed dis¬
ciples behind him, sat Professor Challenger, portentous
and threatening, his Assyrian beard projected in his
most aggressive fashion, a half-smile upon his lips,
and his eyelids drooping insolently over his intolerant
grey eyes. On the corresponding position on the
other side was perched a drab and unpretentious
person over whose humble head Challenger’s hat
would have descended to the shoulders. He was pale
and apprehensive, glancing across occasionally in
apologetic and deprecating fashion at his leonine oppo¬
nent. Yet those who knew James Smith best were the
least alarmed, for they were aware that behind his
commonplace and democratic appearance there lay a
knowledge of his subject, practical and theoretical,
such as few living men possessed. The wise men
of the Psychical Research Society are but children
in psychic knowledge when compared with such
practicing Spirtualists as James Smith — men whose
whole lives are spent in various forms of communion
with the unseen. Such men often lose touch with the
world in which they dwell and are useless for its
everyday purposes, but the editorship of a live paper
and the administration of a wide-spread scattered
community had kept Smith’s feet solid upon earth,
while his excellent natural faculties, incorrupted by
useless education, had enabled him to concentrate
upon the one field of knowledge which offers in itself
a sufficient scope for the greatest human intellect.
Little as Challenger could appreciate it, the contest
was really one between a brilliant discursive amateur
and a concentrated highly-specialised professional.
It was admitted on all sides that Challenger’s open-
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
217
ing half-hour was a magnificent display of oratory and
argument. His deep organ voice — such a voice as
only a man with a fifty-inch chest can produce — rose
and fell in a perfect cadence which enchanted his
audience. He was born to sway any assembly — an
obvious leader of mankind. In turn he was de¬
scriptive, humorous and convincing. He pictured the
natural growth of animism among savages cowering
under the naked sky, unable to account for the beat
of the rain or the roar of the thunder, and seeing a
benevolent or malicious intelligence behind those
operations of Nature which Science had now classified
and explained.
Hence on false premises was built up that belief in
spirits or invisible beings outside ourselves, which by
some curious atavism was re-emerging in modern days
among the less educated strata of mankind. It was
the duty of Science to resist retrogressive tendencies
of the sort, and it was a sense of that duty which had
reluctantly drawn him from the privacy of his study
to the publicity of this platform. He rapidly sketched
the movement as depicted by its maligners. It was
a most unsavoury story as he told it, a story of
cracking toe joints, of phosphorescent paint, of muslin
ghosts, of a nauseous sordid commission trade be¬
twixt dead men’s bones on one side, and widows’ tears
upon the other. These people were the hyenas of the
human race who battened upon the graves. (Cheers
from the rationalists and ironical laughter from the
Spiritualists.) They were not all rogues. (“Thank
you, Professor ! ” from a stentorian opponent.)
But the others were fools (laughter). Was it exag¬
geration to call a man a fool who believed that his
grandmother could rap out absurd messages with the
leg of a dining-room table ? Had any savages de-
218
THE LAND OF MIST
scended to so grotesque a superstition ? These people
had taken dignity from death and had brought their
own vulgarity into the serene oblivion of the tomb.
It was a hateful business. He was sorry to have to
speak so strongly, but only the knife or the cautery
could deal with so cancerous a growth. Surely man
need not trouble himself with grotesque speculations
as to the nature of life beyond the grave. We had
enough to do in this world. Life was a beautiful
thing. The man who appreciated its real duties and
beauties would have sufficient to employ him without
dabbling in pseudo sciences which had their roots in
frauds, exposed already a hundred times and yet find¬
ing fresh crowds of foolish devotees whose insane
credulity and irrational prejudice made them imper¬
vious to all argument.
Such is a most bald and crude summary of this
powerful opening argument. The materialists roared
their applause; the Spiritualists looked angry and
uneasy, while their spokesman rose, pale but resolute,
to answer the ponderous onslaught.
His voice and appearance had none of those qual¬
ities which made Challenger magnetic, but he was
clearly audible and made his points in a precise fashion
like a workman who is familiar with his tools. He
was so polite and so apologetic at first that he gave
the impression of having been cowed. He felt that
it was almost presumptuous upon one who had so
little advantage of education to measure mental swords
for an instant with so renowned an antagonist, one
whom he had long revered. It seemed to him, how¬
ever, that in the long list of the Professor’s accomplish¬
ments — accomplishments which had made him a
household word throughout the world — there was one
missing, and unhappily it was just this one upon which
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
219
he had been tempted to speak. He had listened to
that speech with admiration so far as its eloquence
was concerned, but with surprise, and he might almost
say with contempt, when he analysed the assertions
which were contained in it. It was clear that the
Professor had prepared his case by reading all the
anti-Spiritualist literature which he could lay his
hands upon — a most tainted source of information —
while neglecting the works of those who spoke from
experience and conviction.
All this talk of cracking joints and other fraudulent
tricks was mid-Victorian in its ignorance, and as to
the grandmother talking through the leg of a table he,
the speaker, could not recognise it as a fair description
of Spiritualistic phenomena. Such comparisons re¬
minded one of the jokes about the dancing frogs which
impeded the recognition of Volta’s early electrical
experiments. They were unworthy of Professor
Challenger. He must surely be aware that the fraudu¬
lent medium was the worst enemy of Spiritualism, that
he was denounced by name in the psychic journals
whenever he was discovered, and that such exposures
were usually made by the Spiritualists themselves who
had spoken of “ human hyenas ” as indignantly as his
opponent had done. One did not condemn banks
because forgers occasionally used them for nefarious
purposes. It was wasting the time of so chosen an
audience to descend to such a level of argument.
Had Professor Challenger denied the religious impli¬
cations of Spiritualism while admitting the phenomena,
it might have been harder to answer him, but in
denying everything he had placed himself in an ab¬
solutely impossible position. No doubt Professor
Challenger had read the recent work of Professor
Richet, the famous physiologist. That work extended
220
THE LAND OF MIST
over thirty years. Richet had verified all the phe¬
nomena.
Perhaps Professor Challenger would inform the
audience what personal experience he had himself had
which gave him the right to talk of Richet, or Lom-
broso, or Crookes, as if they were superstitious sav¬
ages. Possibly his opponent had conducted experi¬
ments in private of which the world knew nothing. In
that case he should give them to the world. Until he
did so it was unscientific and really indecent to deride
men hardly inferior in scientific reputation to himself,
who actually had done such experiments and laid them
before the public.
As to the self-sufficiency of this world, a successful
Professor with a eupeptic body might take such a view,
but if one found oneself with cancer of the stomach in
a London garret, one might question the doctrine that
there was no need to yearn for any state of being
save that in which we found ourselves.
It was a workmanlike effort illustrated with facts,
dates and figures. Though it rose to no height of
eloquence it contained much which needed an answer.
And the sad fact emerged that Challenger was not
in a position to answer. He had read up his own
case but had neglected that of his adversary, accept¬
ing too easily the facile and specious presumptions of
incompetent writers who handled a matter which they
had not themselves investigated. Instead of answer¬
ing, Challenger lost his temper. The lion began to
roar. He tossed his dark mane and his eyes glowed,
while his deep voice reverberated through the hall.
Who were these people who took refuge behind a
few honoured but misguided names ? What right
had they to expect serious men of science to suspend
their labours in order to waste time in examining their
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
221
wild surmises ? Some things were self-evident and
did not require proof. The onus of proof lay with
those who made the assertions. If this gentleman,
whose name is unfamiliar, claims that he can raise
spirits, let him call one up now before a sane and un¬
prejudiced audience. If he says that he receives
messages, let him give us the news in advance of the
general agencies. (“ It has often been done ! ” from
the Spiritualists.) “ So you say, but I deny it. I am
too accustomed to your wild assertions to take them
seriously.” (Uproar, and Judge Gaverson upon his
feet.) If he claims that he has higher inspiration,
let him solve the Peckham Rye murder. If he is in
touch with angelic beings, let him give us a philosophy,
which is higher than mortal mind can evolve. This
false show of science, this camouflage of ignorance,
this babble about ectoplasm and other mythical
products of the psychic imagination was mere ob¬
scurantism, the bastard offspring of superstition and
darkness. Wherever the matter was probed one
came upon corruption and mental putrescence. Every
medium was a deliberate impostor. (“ You are a
liar ! ” in a woman’s voice from the neighbourhood
of the Lindens.) The voices of the dead had uttered
nothing but childish twaddle. The asylums were full
of the supporters of the cult and would be fuller still
if everyone had his due.
It was a violent but not an effective speech. Evi¬
dently the great man was rattled. He realised that
there was a case to be met and that he had not pro¬
vided himself with the material wherewith to meet it.
Therefore he had taken refuge in angry words and
sweeping assertions which can only be safely made
when there is no antagonist present to take advantage
of them. The Spiritualists seemed more amused than
222
THE LAND OF MIST
angry. The materialists fidgeted uneasily in their
seats. Then James Smith rose for his last innings.
He wore a mischievous smile. There was quiet menace
in his whole bearing.
He must ask, he said, for a more scientific attitude
from his illustrious opponent. It was an extraordi¬
nary fact that many scientific men, when their passions
and prejudices were excited, showed a ludicrous dis¬
regard for all their own tenets. Of these tenets there
was none more rigid than that a subject should be
examined before it was condemned. We have seen
of late years, in such matters as wireless or heavier-
than-air machines, that the most unlikely things may
come to pass. It is most dangerous to say a -priori
that a thing is impossible. Yet this was the error into
which Professor Challenger had fallen. He had used
the fame which he had rightly won in subjects which
he had mastered in order to cast discredit upon a
subject which he had not mastered. The fact that
a man was a great physiologist and physicist did not
in itself make him an authority upon psychic science.
It was perfectly clear that Professor Challenger had
not read the standard works upon the subject on
which he posed as an authority. Could he tell the
audience what the name of Schrenck Notzing’s medium
was ? He paused for a reply. Could he then tell the
name of Dr. Crawford’s medium ? Not ? Could he
tell them who had been the subject of Professor Zoll-
ner’s experiments at Leipzig ? What, still silent !
But these were the essential points of the discussion.
He had hesitated to be personal, but the Professor’s
robust language called for corresponding frankness
upon his part. Was the Professor aware that this
ectoplasm which he derided had been examined lately
by twenty German professors — the names were here
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
223
for reference- — and that all had testified to its ex¬
istence ? How could Professor Challenger deny that
which these gentlemen asserted ? Would he contend
that they also were criminals or fools ? The fact
was that the Professor had come to this hall entirely
ignorant of the facts and was now learning them for
the first time. He clearly had no perception that
Psychic Science had any laws whatever, or he would
not have formulated such childish requests as that an
ectoplasmic figure should manifest in full light upon
this platform when every student was aware that
ectoplasm was soluble in light. As to the Peckham
Rye murder it had never been claimed that the angel
world was an annex to Scotland Yard. It was mere
throwing of dust in the eyes of the public for a man
like Professor Challenger -
It was at this moment that the explosion occurred.
Challenger had wriggled in his chair. Challenger had
tugged at his beard. Challenger had glared at the
speaker. Now he suddenly sprang to the side of the
chairman’s table with the bound of a wounded lion.
That gentleman had been lying back half asleep with
his fat hands clutched across his ample paunch, but at
this sudden apparition he gave a convulsive start
which nearly carried him into the orchestra.
“ Sit down, sir ! Sit down ! ” he cried.
“ I refuse to sit down,” roared Challenger. “ Sir,
I appeal to you as chairman ! Am I here to be in¬
sulted ? These proceedings are intolerable. I will
stand it no longer. If my private honour is touched I
am justified in taking the matter into my own hands.”
Like many men who override the opinions of others,
Challenger was exceedingly sensitive when anyone
took a liberty with his own. Each successive incisive
sentence of his opponent had been like a barbed ban-
224
THE LAND OF MIST
darillo in the flanks of a foaming bull. Now, in
speechless fury, he was shaking his huge hairy fist
over the chairman’s head in the direction of his ad¬
versary, whose derisive smile stimulated him to more
furious plunges with which he butted the fat president
along the platform. The assembly had in an instant
become a pandemonium. Half the rationalists were
scandalised, while the other half shouted “ Shame !
Shame ! ” as a sign of sympathy with their champion.
The Spiritualists had broken into derisive shouts,
while some rushed forward to protect their champion
from physical assault.
“ We must get the old dear out,” said Lord Roxton
to Malone. “ He’ll be had for manslaughter if we
don’t. What I mean, he’s not responsible — he’ll sock
someone and be lagged for it.”
The platform had become a seething mob while the
auditorium was little better. Through the crush
Malone and Roxton elbowed their way until they
reached Challenger’s side, and partly by judicious pro¬
pulsion, partly by artful persuasion they got him, still
bellowing his grievances, out of the building. There
was a perfunctory vote to the chairman, and the meet¬
ing broke up in riot and confusion. “ The whole
episode,” remarked The Times next morning, “was a
deplorable one, and forcibly illustrates the danger of
public debates where the subjects are such as to inflame
the prejudices of either speakers or audience. Such
terms as ‘ Microcephalous idiot ! ’ or ‘ Simian sur¬
vival ! ’ when applied by a world-renowned Professor
to an opponent, illustrate the lengths to which such
disputants may permit themselves to go.”
Thus by a long interpolation we have got back to
the fact that Professor Challenger was in the worst
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
225
of humours as he sat with the above-mentioned copy
of The Times in his hand and a heavy scowl upon his
brow. And yet it was that very moment that the
injudicious Malone had chosen in order to ask him the
most intimate question which one man can address
to another.
Yet perhaps it is hardly fair to our friend’s diplo¬
macy to say that he had “ chosen ” the moment. He
had really called in order to see for himself that a
man for whom, in spite of his eccentricities, he had a
deep reverence and affection, had not suffered from
the events of the night before. On that point he was
speedily reassured.
“ Intolerable ! ” roared the Professor, in a tone so
unchanged that he might have been at it all night.
“ You were there yourself, Malone. In spite of your
inexplicable and misguided sympathy for the fatuous
views of these people, you must admit that the whole
conduct of the proceedings was intolerable, and that
my righteous protest was more than justified. It is
possible that when I threw the chairman’s table at
the President of the Psychic College, I passed the
bounds of decorum, but the provocation had been
excessive. You will remember that this Smith or
Brown person — his name is most immaterial — dared
to accuse me of ignorance and of throwing dust in the
eyes of the audience.”
“ Quite so,” said Malone, soothingly. “ Never
mind, Professor. You got in one or two pretty hard
knocks yourself.”
Challenger’s grim features unbent and he rubbed his
hands with glee.
“ Yes, yes, I fancy that some of my thrusts went
home. I imagine that they will not be forgotten.
When I said that the asylums would be full if every
226
THE LAND OF MIST
man of them had his due, I could see them wince.
They all yelped, I remember, like a kennelful of
puppies. It was their preposterous claim that I should
read their hare-brained literature which caused me to
display some little heat. But I hope, my boy, that you
have called round this morning in order to tell me that
what I said last night has had some effect upon your
own mind, and that you have reconsidered these views
which are, I confess, a considerable tax upon our
friendship.”
Malone took his plunge like a man.
“ I had something else in my mind when I came
here,” said he. “ You must be aware that your
daughter Enid and I have been thrown together a
good deal of late. To me, sir, she has become the
one woman in the world, and I shall never be happy
until she is my wife. I am not rich, but a good sub¬
editorship has been offered to me and I could well
afford to marry. You have known me for some time
and I hope you have nothing against me. I trust,
therefore, that I may count upon your approval in
what I am about to do.”
Challenger stroked his beard and his eyelids
drooped dangerously over his eyes.
“ My perceptions,” said he, “ are not so dull that I
should have failed to observe the relations which have
been established between my daughter and yourself.
This question, however, has become entangled with
that other which we were discussing. You have both,
I fear, imbibed this poisonous fallacy which I am more
and more inclined to devote my life to extirpating.
If only on the ground of eugenics, I could not give
my sanction to a union which was built up on such a
foundation. I must ask you, therefore, for a definite
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
227
assurance that your views have become more sane.
I shall ask the same from her.”
And so Malone suddenly found himself also en¬
rolled among the noble army of martyrs. It was a
hard dilemma, but he faced it like the man that he
was.
“ I am sure, sir, that you would not think the better
of me if I allowed my views as to truth, whether they
be right or wrong, to be swayed by material con¬
siderations. I cannot change my opinions even to win
Enid. I am sure that she would take the same view.”
“ Did you not think I had the better last night ? ”
“ I thought your address was very eloquent.”
“ Did I not convince you ? ”
“ Not in the face of the evidence of my own senses.”
“ Any conjuror could deceive your senses.”
“ I fear, sir, that my mind is made up on this
point.”
“ Then my mind is made up also,” roared Chal¬
lenger, with a sudden glare. “ You will leave this
house, sir, and you will return when you have regained
your sanity.”
“ One moment ! ” said Malone. “ I beg, sir, that
you will not be precipitate. I value your friendship
too much to risk the loss of it if it can, in any way, be
avoided. Possibly if I had your guidance, I would
better understand these things that puzzle me. If I
should be able to arrange it would you mind being
present personally at one of these demonstrations
so that your own trained powers of observation
may throw a light upon the things that have puzzled
me.”
Challenger was enormously open to flattery. He
plumed and preened himself now like some great
bird.
228
THE LAND OF MIST
“ If, my dear Malone, I can help you to get this
taint — what shall we call it ? — microbus spiritualensis
— out of your system, I am at your service. I shall be
happy to devote a little of my spare time to exposing
those specious fallacies to which you have fallen so
easy a victim. I would not say that you are entirely
devoid of brains, but that your good nature is liable
to be imposed upon. I warn you that I shall be an
exacting enquirer and bring to the investigation those
laboratory methods of which it is generally admitted
that I am a master.”
“ That is what I desire.”
“ Then you will prepare the occasion and I shall be
there. But meanwhile you will clearly understand
that I insist upon a promise that this connection with
my daughter shall go no further.”
Malone hesitated.
“ I give my promise for six months,” he said at
last.
“ And what will you do at the end of that time ? ”
“ I will decide when the time comes,” Malone
answered diplomatically, and so escaped from a
dangerous situation with more credit than at one time
seemed probable.
It chanced that as he emerged upon the landing,
Enid, who had been engaged in her morning's shop¬
ping, appeared in the lift. Malone’s easy Irish con¬
science allowed him to think that the six months need
not start on the instant, so he persuaded Enid to de¬
scend in the lift with him. It was one of those lifts
which are handled by whoever uses them, and on this
occasion it so happened that, in some way best known
to Malone, it stuck between the landing-stages, and in
spite of several impatient rings it remained stuck for
a good quarter of an hour. When the machinery re-
GOES FORTH TO BATTLE
229
sumed its functions, and when Enid was able at last
to reach her home and Malone the street, the lovers
had prepared themselves to wait for six months with
every hope of a successful end to their experiment. *
* See Appendix.
CHAPTER XIV
IN WHICH CHALLENGER MEETS A STRANGE
COLLEAGUE
PROFESSOR CHALLENGER was not a man
who made friends easily. In order to be his
friend you had also to be his dependent. He did not
admit of equals. But as a patron he was superb.
With his Jovian air, his colossal condescension, his
amused smile, his general suggestion of the god de¬
scending to the mortal, he could be quite overpowering
in his amiability. But he needed certain qualities in
return. Stupidity disgusted him. Physical ugliness
alienated him. Independence repulsed him. He
coveted the man whom all the world would admire,
but who in turn would admire the superman above him.
Such a man was Dr. Ross Scotton, and for this reason
he had been Challenger’s favourite pupil.
And now he was sick unto death. Dr. Atkinson of
St. Mary’s, who has already played some minor part
in this record, was attending him, and his reports were
increasingly depressing. The illness was that dread
disease, disseminated sclerosis, and Challenger was
aware that Atkinson was no alarmist when he said
that a cure was a most remote and unlikely possibility.
It seemed a terrible instance of the unreasonable
nature of things that a young man of science, capable
before he reached his prime of two such works as
“ The Embryology of the Sympathetic Nervous
System” and “The Fallacy of the Obsonic Index,”
230
A STRANGE COLLEAGUE
231
should be dissolved into his chemical elements with
no personal or spiritual residue whatever. And yet
the Professor shrugged his huge shoulders, shook his
massive head and accepted the inevitable. Every
fresh message was worse than the last, and, finally,
there was an ominous silence. Challenger went down
once to his young friend’s lodging in Gower Street.
It was a racking experience, and he did not repeat it.
The muscular cramps, which are characteristic of the
complaint were tying the sufferer into knots, and he
was biting his lips to shut down the screams which
might have relieved his agony at the expense of his
manhood. He seized his mentor by the hand as a
drowning man seizes a plank.
“ Is it really as you have said ? Is there no hope
beyond the six months of torture which I see lying
before me ? Can you with all your wisdom and knowl¬
edge see no spark of light or life in the dark shadow
of eternal dissolution ? ”
“ Face it, my boy, face it ! ” said Challenger.
“ Better to look facts in the face than to console one¬
self with fancies.”
Then the lips parted and the long-pent scream burst
forth. Challenger rose and rushed from the room.
But now an amazing development occurred. It
began by the appearance of Miss Delicia Freeman.
One morning there came a knock at the door of the
Victoria flat. The austere and taciturn Austin look¬
ing out at the level of his eyes perceived nothing at all.
On glancing downwards, however, he was aware of a
small lady, whose delicate face and bright bird-like
eyes were turned upwards to his own.
“ I want to see the Professor,” said she, diving into
her handbag for a card.
“ Can’t see you,” said Austin.
232
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Oh, yes, he can,” the small lady answered serenely.
There was not a newspaper office, a statesman’s sanc¬
tum, or a political chancellory which had ever pre¬
sented a barrier strong enough to hold her back where
she believed that there was good work to be done.
“ Can’t see you,” repeated Austin.
“ Oh, but really I must, you know,” said Miss Free¬
man, and made a sudden dive past the butler. With
unerring insinct she made for the door of the sacred
study, knocked, and forthwith entered.
The lion head looked up from behind a desk littered
with papers. The lion eyes glared.
“ What is the meaning of this intrusion ? ” the lion
roared. The small lady was, however, entirely un¬
abashed. She smiled sweetly at the glowering face.
“ I am so glad to make your acquaintance,” she said.
“ My name is Delicia Freeman.”
“ Austin ! ” shouted the Professor. The butler’s
impassive face appeared round the angle of the door.
“ What is this, Austin ? How did this person get
here ? ”
“ I couldn’t keep her out,” wailed Austin. “ Come
miss, we’ve had enough of it.”
“ No, no ! You must not be angry — you really
must not,” said the lady sweetly. “ I was told that
you were a perfectly terrible person, but really you are
rather a dear.”
“ Who are you ? What do you want ? Are you
aware that I am one of the most busy men in
London ? ”
Miss Freeman fished about in her bag once more.
She was always fishing in that bag, extracting some¬
times a leaflet on Armenia, sometimes a pamphlet on
Greece, sometimes a note on Zenana Missions, and
A STRANGE COLLEAGUE
233
sometimes a psychic manifesto. On this occasion it
was a folded bit of writing-paper which emerged.
“ From Dr. Ross Scotton,” she said.
It was hastily folded and roughly scribbled — so
roughly as to be hardly legible. Challenger bent his
heavy brows over it.
“ Please, dear friend and guide, listen to what this
lady says. I know it is against all your views. And
yet I had to do it. You said yourself that I had no
hope. I have tested it and it works. I know it seems
wild and crazy. But any hope is better than no hope.
If you were in my place you would have done the same.
Will you not cast out prejudice and see for yourself ?
Dr. Felkin comes at 3.
“ J. Ross Scotton.”
Challenger read it twice over and sighed. The
brain was clearly involved in the lesion: “ He says I
am to listen to you. What is it ? Cut it as short as
you can.”
“ It’s a spirit doctor,” said the lady.
Challenger bounded in his chair.
“ Good God, am I never to get away from this
nonsense 1 ” he cried. “ Can they not let this poor
devil lie quiet on his deathbed but they must play
their tricks upon him ? ”
Miss Delicia clapped her hands and her quick little
eyes twinkled with joy.
“ It’s not his deathbed. He is going to get well.”
“ Who said so ? ”
“ Dr. Felkin. He never is wrong.”
Challenger snorted.
“ Have you seen him lately ? ” she asked.
“ Not for some weeks.”
234
THE LAND OF MIST
“ But you wouldn’t recognise him. He is nearly
cured.”
“ Cured ! Cured of diffused sclerosis in a few
weeks ! ”
“ Come and see.”
“ You want me to aid and abet in some infernal
quackery. The next thing, I should see my name on
this rascal’s testimonials. I know the breed. If I
did come I should probably take him by the collar
and throw him down the stair.”
The lady laughed heartily.
“He would say with Aristides: ‘Strike but hear
me.’ You will hear him first, however, I am sure.
Your pupil is a real chip of yourself. He seems quite
ashamed of getting well in such an unorthodox way.
It was I who called Dr. Felkin in against his wish.”
“ Oh, you did, did you ? You took a great deal
upon yourself.”
“ I am prepared to take any responsibility, so long
as I know I am right. I spoke to Dr. Atkinson. He
knows a little of psychic matters. He is far less pre¬
judiced than most of you scientific gentlemen. He
took the view that when a man was dying in any case
it could matter little what you did. So Dr. Felkin
came.”
“ And pray how did this quack doctor proceed to
treat the case ? ”
“ That is what Dr. Ross Scotton wants you to see.”
She looked at a watch which she dragged from the
depths of the bag. “ In an hour he will be there. I’ll
tell your friend you are coming. I am sure you would
not disappoint him. Oh ! ” She dived into the bag
again. “ Here is a recent note upon the Bessarabian
question. It is much more serious than people think.
A STRANGE COLLEAGUE
235
You will just have time to read it before you come.
So good-bye, dear Professor, and au revoir ! ”
She beamed at the scowling lion and departed.
But she had succeeded in her mission, which was a
way she had. There was something compelling in the
absolutely unselfish enthusiasm of this small person
who would, at a moment’s notice, take on anyone from
a Mormon elder to an Albanian brigand, loving the
culprit and mourning the sin. Challenger came under
the spell, and shortly after three he stumped his way
up the narrow stair and blocked the door of the
humble bedroom where his favourite pupil lay stricken.
Ross Scotton lay stretched upon the bed in a red
dressing-gown, and his teacher saw, with a start of
surprised joy, that his face had filled out and that the
light of life and hope had come back into his eyes.
“ Yes, I’m beating it ! ” he cried. “ Ever since Fel-
kin held his first consultation with Atkinson I have
felt the life force stealing back into me. Oh, chief,
it is a fearful thing to lie awake at night and feel these
cursed microbes nibbling away at the very roots of
your life ! I could almost hear them at it. And the
cramps when my body — like a badly articulated skele¬
ton — would all get twisted into one rigid tangle ! But
now, except some dyspepsia and urticaria of the
palms, I am free from pain. And all on account of
this dear fellow here who has helped me.”
He motioned with his hand as if alluding to some¬
one present. Challenger looked round with a glare,
expecting to find some smug charlatan behind him. But
no doctor was there. A frail young woman, who
seemed to be a nurse, quiet, unobtrusive, and with a
wealth of brown hair, was dozing in a corner. Miss
Delicia, smiling demurely, stood in the window.
“ I am glad you are better, my dear boy,” said
236
THE LAND OF MIST
Challenger. “ But do not tamper with your reason.
Such a complaint has its natural systole and diastole.”
“ Talk to him, Dr. Felkin. Clear his mind for
him,” said the invalid.
Challenger looked up at the cornice and round at the
skirting. His pupil was clearly addressing some
doctor in the room and yet none was visible. Surely
his aberration had not reached the point when he
thought that actual floating apparitions were directing
his cure.
“ Indeed, it needs some clearing,” said a deep and
virile voice at his elbow. He bounded round. It
was the frail young woman who was talking.
“ Let me introduce you to Dr. Felkin,” said Miss
Delicia, with a mischievous laugh.
“ What tomfoolery is this ! ” cried Challenger.
The young woman rose and fumbled at the side of
her dress. Then she made an impatient gesture with
her hand.
“ Time was, my dear colleague, when a snuff-box
was as much part of my equipment as my phlebotomy
case. I lived before the days of Laennec, and we
carried no stethoscope, but we had our little chirurgical
battery, none the less. But the snuff-box was a peace¬
offering, and I was about to offer it to you, but, alas !
it has had its day.”
Challenger stood with staring £yes and dilated
nostrils while this speech was delivered. Then he
turned to the bed.
“ Do you mean to say that this is your doctor — that
you take the advice of this person ? ”
The young girl drew herself up very stiffly.
“ Sir, I will not bandy words with you. I perceive
very clearly that you are one of those who have been
so immersed in material knowledge that you have had
A STRANGE COLLEAGUE
237
no time to devote to the possibilities of the spirit.”
“ I certainly have no time for nonsense,” said
Challenger.
“ My dear chief ! ” cried a voice from the bed. “ I
beg you to bear in mind how much Dr. Felkin has
already done for me. You saw how I was a month
ago, and you see how I am now. You would not
offend my best friend.”
“ I certainly think, Professor, that you owe dear
Dr. Felkin an apology,” said Miss Delicia.
“ A private lunatic asylum ! ” snorted Challenger.
Then, playing up to his part, he assumed the ponderous
elephantine irony which was one of his most effective
weapons in dealing with recalcitrant students.
“ Perhaps, young lady — or shall I say elderly and
most venerable Professor ? — you will permit a mere
raw earthly student, who has no more knowledge
than this world can give, to sit humbly in a corner
and possibly to learn a little from your methods and
your teachings.” The speech was delivered with his
shoulders up to his ears, his eyelids over his eyes, and
his palms extended in front — an alarming statue of
sarcasm. Dr. Felkin, however, was striding, with
heavy and impatient steps, about the room and took
little notice.
“ Quite so ! Quite so ! ” he said carelessly. “ Get
into the corner and stay there. Above all stop talk¬
ing, as this case calls for all my faculties.” He turned
with a masterful air towards the patient. “ Well,
well, you are coming along. In two months you will
be in the class-room.”
“ Oh, it is impossible ! ” cried Ross Scotton, with a
half sob.
“ Not so. I guarantee it. I do not make false
promises.”
238
THE LAND OF MIST
“ I’ll answer for that,” said Miss Delicia. “ I say,
dear Doctor, do tell us who you were when you were
alive.”
“ Tut ! tut ! The unchanging woman. They gos¬
siped in my time and they gossip still. No, no ! We
will have a look at our young friend here. Pulse !
The intermittent beat has gone. That is something
gained. Temperature . . . obviously normal.
Blood-pressure — still higher than I like. Digestion —
much to be desired. What you moderns call a hunger-
strike would not be amiss. Well, the general condi¬
tions are tolerable. Let us see the local centre of the
mischief. Pull your shirt down, sir ! Lie on your
face. Excellent ! ” She passed her fingers with great
force and precision down the upper part of the spine,
and then dug in her knuckles with a sudden force which
made the sufferer yelp. “ That is better ! There is
— as I have explained — a slight want of alignment
in the cervical vertebras which has, as I perceive it,
the effect of lessening the foramina through which the
nerve roots emerge. This has caused compression,
and as these nerves are really the conductors of vital
force, it has upset the whole equilibrium of the parts
supplied. My eyes are the same as your clumsy X-
rays, and I clearly perceive that the position is almost
restored and the fatal constriction removed. I hope,
sir,” to Challenger, “ that I make the pathology of
this interesting case intelligible to you.”
Challenger grunted his general hostility and dis¬
agreement.
“ I will clear up any little difficulties which may
linger in your mind. But, meantime, my dear lad,
you are a credit to me and I rejoice in your progress.
You will present my compliments to my colleague of
earth, Dr. Atkinson, and tell him that I can suggest
A STRANGE COLLEAGUE
239
nothing more. The medium is a little weary, poor
girl, so I will not remain longer to-day.”
“ But you said you would tell us who you were.”
“ Indeed, there is little to say. I was a very un¬
distinguished practitioner. I sat under the great
Abernethy in my youth and perhaps imbibed some¬
thing of his methods. When I passed over in early
middle age I continued my studies and was permitted,
if I could find some suitable means of expression, to
do something to help humanity. You understand, of
course, that it is only by serving and self-abnegation
that we advance in the higher world. This is my
service, and I can only thank kind Fate that I was
able to find in this girl a being whose vibrations so
correspond with my own that I can easily assume
control of her body.”
“ And where is she ? ” asked the patient.
“ She is waiting beside me and will presently re¬
enter her own frame. As to you, sir,” turning to
Challenger, “ you are a man of character and learning,
but you are clearly embedded in that materialism which
is the special curse of your age. Let me assure you
that the medical profession, which is supreme upon
earth for the disinterested work of its members, has
yielded too much to the dogmatism of such men as you,
and has unduly neglected that spiritual element in
man which is far more important than your herbs and
your minerals. There is a life-force, sir, and it is in
the control of this life-force that the medicine of the
future lies. If you shut your mind to it it can only
mean that the confidence of the public will turn to
those who are ready to adopt every means of cure,
whether they have the approval of your authorities
or not.”
Never could young Ross Scotton forget that scene.
240
THE LAND OF MIST
The Professor, the master, the supreme chief, he who
had to be addressed with bated breath, sat with half-
opened mouth and staring eyes, leaning forward in his
chair, while in front of him the slight young woman,
shaking her mop of brown hair and wagging an ad¬
monitory forefinger, spoke to him as a father speaks
to a refractory child. So intense was her power that
Challenger, for the instant, was constrained to accept
the situation. He gasped and grunted, but no retort
came to his lips. The girl turned away and sat down
on a chair.
“ He is going,” said Miss Delicia.
“ But not yet gone,” replied the girl with a smile.
“ Yes, I must go, for I have much to do. This is not
my only medium of expression and I am due in Edin¬
burgh in a few minutes. But be of good heart, young
man. I will set my assistant with two extra batteries
to increase your vitality so far as your system will
permit. As to you, sir,” to Challenger, “ I would
implore you to beware of the egotism of brain and the
self-concentration of intellect. Store what is old, but
be ever receptive to what is new, and judge it not as
you may wish it, but as God has designed it.”
She gave a deep sigh and sank back in her chair.
There was a minute of dead silence while she lay with
her head upon her breast. Then with another sigh
and a shiver she opened a pair of very bewildered blue
eyes.
“ Well, has he been ? ” she asked in a gentle femi¬
nine voice.
“ Indeed, yes ! ” cried the patient. “ He was great.
He says I shall be in the class-room in two months.”
“ Splendid ! Any directions for me ? ”
“ Just the special message as before. But he is
A STRANGE COLLEAGUE 241
going to put on two new spirit batteries if I can stand
it.”
“ My word, he won’t be long now ! ” Suddenly the
girl’s eyes lit on Challenger and she stopped in con¬
fusion.
“ This is Nurse Ursula,” said Miss Delicia.
“ Nurse, let me present you to the famous Professor
Challenger.”
Challenger was great in his manner towards women,
especially if the particular woman happened to be a
young and pretty girl. He advanced now as Solomon
may have advanced to the Queen of Sheba, took her
hand and patted her hair with patriarchal assurance.
“ My dear, you are far too young and charming for
such deceit. Have done with it for ever. Be content
to be a bewitching nurse and resign all claim to the
higher functions of doctor. Where, may I ask, did
you pick up all this jargon about cervical vertebrae
and posterior foramina ? ”
Nurse Ursula looked helplessly round as one who
finds herself suddenly in the clutches of a gorilla.
“ She does not understand a word you say ! ” cried
the man on the bed. “ Oh, chief, you must make an
effort to face the real situation ! I know what a re¬
adjustment it means. In my small way I have had to
undergo it myself. But, believe me, you see every¬
thing through a prism instead of through plate-glass
until you understand the spiritual factor.”
Challenger continued his paternal attentions though
the frightened lady had begun to shrink from him.
“ Come now,” said he, “ who was the clever doctor
with whom you acted as nurse — the man who taught
you all these fine words ? You must feel that it is
hopeless to deceive me. You will be much happier,
dear child, when you have made a clean breast of it all,
242
THE LAND OF MIST
and when we can laugh together over the lecture
which you inflicted upon me.”
An unexpected interruption came to check Chal¬
lenger’s exploration of the young woman’s conscience
or motives. The invalid was sitting up, a vivid red
patch against his white pillows, and he was speaking
with an energy which was in itself an indication of his
coming cure.
“Professor Challenger!” he cried, “you are in¬
sulting my best friend. Under this roof at least she
shall be safe from the sneers of scientific prejudice.
I beg you to leave the room if you cannot address
Nurse Ursula in a more respectful manner.”
Challenger glared, but the peacemaking Delicia was
at work in a moment.
“You are far too hasty, dear Dr. Ross Scotton ! ”
she cried. “ Profesor Challenger has had no time
to understand this. You were just as sceptical your¬
self at first. How can you blame him ? ”
“ Yes, yes, that is true,” said the young doctor.
“ It seemed to me to open the door to all the quackery
in the Universe — indeed it does, but the fact remains.”
“ ‘ One thing I know that whereas I was blind now
I see.’ ” quoted Miss Delicia. “ Ah, Professor, you
may raise your eyebrows and shrug your shoulders,
but we’ve dropped something into your big mind this
afternoon which will grow and grow until no man can
see the end of it.” She dived into the bag. “ There
is a little slip here ‘ Brain versus Soul.’ I do hope,
dear Professor, that you will read it and then pass it
CHAPTER XV
IN WHICH TRAPS ARE LAID FOR A GREAT QUARRY
MALONE was bound in honour not to speak of
love to Enid Challenger, but looks can speak,
and so their communications had not broken down
completely. In all other ways he adhered closely to
the agreement, though the situation was a difficult
one. It was the more difficult since he was a constant
visitor to the Professor, and now that the irritation
of the debate was over, a very welcome one. The
one object of Malone’s life was to get the great man’s
sympathetic consideration of those psychic subjects
which had gained such a hold upon himself. This he
pursued with assiduity, but also with great caution,
for he knew that the lava was thin and that a fiery ex¬
plosion was always possible. Once or twice it came
and caused Malone to drop the subject for a week or
two until the ground seemed a little more firm.
Malone developed a remarkable cunning in his
approaches. One favourite device was to consult
Challenger upon some scientific point — on the zoo¬
logical importance of the Straits of Banda, for ex¬
ample, or the Insects of the Malay Archipelago, and
lead him on until Challenger in due course would ex¬
plain that our knowledge on the point was due to
Alfred Russel Wallace. “ Oh, really ! To Wallace
the Spiritualist ! ” Malone would say in an innocent
voice, on which Challenger would glare and change
the topic.
243
244
THE LAND OF MIST
Sometimes it was Lodge that Malone would use as
a trap. “ I suppose you think highly of him.”
“ The first brain in Europe,” said Challenger.
“ He is the greatest authority on ether, is he not ? ”
“ Undoubtedly.”
“ Of course, I only know him by his psychic works.”
Challenger would shut up like a clam. Then
Malone would wait a few days and remark casually:
“ Have you ever met Lombroso ! ”
“ Yes, at the Congress at Milan.”
“ I have been reading a book of his.”
“ Criminology, I presume ? ”
“ No, it was called ‘ After Death — What ? ’ ”
“ I have not heard of it.”
“ It discusses the psychic question.”
“ Ah, a man of Lombroso’s penetrating brain would
make short work of the fallacies of these charlatans.”
“ No, it is written to support them.”
“ Well, even the greatest mind has its inexplicable
weakness.” Thus with infinite patience and cunning
did Malone drop his little drops of reason in the hope
of slowly wearing away the casing of prejudice, but
no very visible effects could be seen. Some stronger
measure must be adopted and Malone determined
upon direct demonstration. But how, when, and
where ? Those were the all-important points upon
which he determined to consult Algernon Mailey.
One spring afternoon found him back in that drawing¬
room where he had once rolled upon the carpet in the
embrace of Silas Linden. He found the Rev.
Charles Mason, and Smith, the hero of the Queen’s
Hall debate, in deep consultation with Mailey upon a
subject which may seem much more important to our
descendants that those topics which now bulk large
in the eyes of the public. It was no less than whether
IN WHICH TRAPS ARE LAID
245
the psychic movement in Britain was destined to take
a Unitarian or a Trinitarian course. Smith had al¬
ways been in favour of the former, as had the old
leaders of the movement and the present organised
Spiritualist Churches. On the other hand, Charles
Mason was a loyal son of the Anglican Church, and
was the spokesman of a host of others, including such
weighty names as Lodge and Barrett among the lay¬
men, or Wilberforce, Haweis and Chambers among
the clergy, who clung fast to the old teachings while
admitting the fact of spirit communication. Mailey
stood between the two parties, and, like the zealous
referee in a boxing-match who separates the two com¬
batants, he always took a chance of getting a knock
from each. Malone was only too glad to listen, for
now that he realised that the future of the world
might be bound up in this movement, every phase of
it was of intense interest to him. Mason was holding
forth in his earnest, but good-humoured, way as he
entered.
“ The people are not ready for a great change. It
is not necessary. We have only to add our living
knowledge, and direct communion of the saints to the
splendid liturgy and traditions of the Church, and
you will have a driving-force which will revitalise all
religion. You can’t pull a thing up from the roots
like that. Even the early Christians found that they
could not, and so they made all sorts of concessions
to the religions around them.”
“ Which was exactly what ruined them,” said
Smith. “ That was the real end of the Church in its
original strength and purity.”
“ It lasted, anyhow.”
“ But it was never the same from the time that
villain Constantine laid his hands on it.”
246
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Oh, come ! ” said Mailey. “ You must not write
down the first Christian emperor as a villain.”
But Smith was a forthright, uncompromising, bull-
doggy antagonist. “ What other name will you give
to a man who murdered half his own family ? ”
“ Well, his personal character is not the question.
We were talking of the organisation of the Christian
Church.”
“You don’t mind my frankness, Mr. Mason ?”
Mason smiled his jolly smile. “ So long as you
grant me the existence of the New Testament I don’t
care what you do. If you were to prove that our
Lord was a myth, as that German Drews tried to do,
it would not in the least affect me so long as I could
point to that body of sublime teaching. It must have
come from somewhere, and I adopt it and say, ‘ That
is my creed.’ ”
“ Oh, well, there is not so much between us on that
point,” said Smith. “ If there is any better teaching
I have not seen it. It is good enough to go on with,
anyhow. But we want to cut out the frills and super*
fluities. Where did they all come from ? They were
compromises with many religions, so that our friend
C. could get uniformity in his world-wide Empire.
He made a patchwork quilt of it. He took an Egyp¬
tian ritual — vestments, mitre, crozier, tonsure, mar¬
riage ring — all Egyptian. The Easter ceremonies are
pagan and refer to the vernal equinox. Confirmation
is mithraism. So is baptism, only it was blood in¬
stead of water. As to the sacrificial meal . . .”
Mason put his fingers in his ears. “ This is some
old lecture of yours,” he laughed. “ Hire a hall, but
don’t obtrude it in a private house. But seriously,
Smith, all this is beside the question. If it is true it
will not affect my position at all, which is that we have
IN WHICH TRAPS ARE LAID
247
a great body of doctrine which is working well, and
which is regarded with veneration by many people,
your humble servant included, and that it would be
wrong and foolish to scrap it. Surely you must
agree.”
“ No, I don’t,” Smith answered, setting his obstin¬
ate jaw. “ You are thinking too much of the feelings
of your blessed church-goers. But you have also to
think of the nine people out of ten who never enter
into a church. They have been choked off by what
they, including your humble servant, consider to be
unreasonable and fantastic. How will you gain them
while you continue to offer them the same things, even
though you mix spirit-teaching with it ? If, however,
you approach these agnostic or atheistic ones, and
say to them: ‘ I quite agree that all this is unreal and
is tainted by a long history of violence and reaction.
But here we have something pure and new. Come
and examine it ! ’ In that way I could coax them
back into a belief in God and in all the fundamentals
of religion without their having to do violence to their
reason by accepting your theology.”
Mailey had been tugging at his tawny beard while
he listened to these conflicting counsels. Knowing the
two men he was aware that there was not really much
between them, when one got past mere words, for
Smith revered the Christ as a God-like man, and
Mason as a man-like God, and the upshot was much
the same. At the same time he knew that their more
extreme followers on either side were in very truth
widely separated, so that compromise became im¬
possible.
“ What I can’t understand,” said Malone, “is why
you don’t ask your spirit friends these questions and
abide by their decisions.”
248
THE LAND OF MIST
“ It is not so simple as you think,” Mailey answered.
“ We all carry on our earthly prejudices after death,
and we all find ourselves in an atmosphere which more
or less represents them. Thus each would echo his
old views at first. Then in time the spirit broadens
out and it ends in a universal creed which includes
only the brotherhood of man and the fatherhood of
God. But that takes time. I have heard most furi¬
ous bigots talking through the veil.”
“ So have I, for that matter,” said Malone, “and
in this very room. But what about the materialists ?
They at least cannot remain unchanged.”
“ I believe their mind influences their state and
that they lie inert for ages sometimes, under their
own obsession that nothing can occur. Then at last
they wake, realise their own loss of time, and, finally,
in many cases get to the head of the procession, since
they are often men of fine character and influenced
by lofty motives, however mistaken in their views.”
“ Yes, they are often among the salt of the earth,”
said the clergyman heartily.
“ And they offer the very best recruits for our
movement,” said Smith. “ There comes such a re¬
action when they find by the evidence of their own
senses that there really is intelligent force outside
themselves, that it gives them an enthusiasm that
makes them ideal missionaries. You fellows who have
a religion and then add to it cannot even imagine what
it means to the man who has a complete vacuum and
suddenly finds something to fill it. When I meet some
poor earnest chap feeling out into the darkness I just
yearn to put it into his hand.”
At this stage tea and Mrs. Mailey appeared to¬
gether. But the conversation did not flag. It is one
of the characteristics of those who explore psychic
IN WHICH TRAPS ARE LAID
249
possibilities that the subject is so many-sided and the
interest so intense that when they meet together they
plunge into the most fascinating exchange of views
and experiences. It was with some difficulty that
Malone got the conversation round to that which had
been the particular object of his visit. He could have
found no group of men more fit to advise him, and
all were equally keen that so great a man as Chal¬
lenger should have the best available.
Where should it be ? On that they were unani¬
mous. The large seance room of the Psychic College
was the most select, the most comfortable, in every
way the best appointed in London. When should it
be ? The sooner the better. Every Spiritualist and
every medium would surely put any engagement aside
in order to help on such an occasion.
“ Who should the medium be ? Ah ! There was
the rub. Of course, the Bolsover circle would be
ideal. It was private and unpaid, but Bolsover was
a man of quick temper and Challenger was sure to
be very insulting and annoying. The meeting might
end in riot and fiasco. Such a chance should not be
taken. Was it worth while to take him over to Paris ?
But who would take the responsibility of letting loose
such a bull in Dr. Maupuis’ china-shop ?
“ He would probably seize Pithecanthropus by the
throat and risk every life in the room,” said Mailey.
“ No, no, it would never do.”
“ There is no doubt that Banderby is the strongest
physical medium in England,” said Smith. “ But we
all know what his personal character is. You could
not rely upon him.”
“ Why not ? ” asked Malone. “ What’s the matter
with him ? ”
Smith raised his hand to his lips.
250
THE LAND OF MIST
“ He has gone the way that many a medium has
gone before him.”
“ But surely,” said Malone, “ that is a strong argu¬
ment against our cause. How can a thing be good if it
leads to such a result ? ”
“ Do you consider poetry to be good ? ”
“ Why, of course I do ! ”
“ Yet Poe was a drunkard, and Coleridge an ad¬
dict, and Byron a rake, and Verlaine a degenerate. You
have to separate the man from the thing. The genius
has to pay a ransom for his genius in the instability
of his temperament. A great medium is even more
sensitive than a genius. Many are beautiful in their
lives. Some are not. The excuse for them is great.
They practise a most exhausting profession and
stimulants are needed. Then they lose control. But
their physical mediumship carries on all the same.”
“ Which reminds me of a story about Banderby,”
said Mailey. “ Perhaps you have not seen him,
Malone. He is a funny figure at any time — a little,
round, bouncing man who has not seen his own toes
for years. When drunk he is funnier still. A few
weeks ago I got an urgent message that he was in
the bar of a certain hotel, and too far gone to get home
unassisted. A friend and I set forth to rescue him.
We got him home after some unsavoury adventures,
and what would the man do but insist upon holding a
seance. We tried to restrain him, but the trumpet was
on a side-table, and he suddenly switched off the light.
In an instant the phenomena began. Never were they
more powerful. But they were interrupted by Prin-
ceps, his control, who seized the trumpet and began be¬
labouring him with it. ‘ You rascal ! You drunken
rascal ! How dare you ! How dare you ! ’ The
trumpet was all dinted with the blows. Banderby
IN WHICH TRAPS ARE LAID
251
ran bellowing out of the room, and we took our de¬
parture.”
“ Well, it wasn’t the medium that time, at any
rate,” said Mason. “ But about Professer Challenger
— it would never do to risk the chance.”
“ What about Tom Linden ? ” asked Mrs. Mailey.
Mailey shook his head.
“ Tom has never been quite the same since his
imprisonment. These fools not only persecute our
precious mediums, but they ruin their powers. It is
like putting a razor into a damp place and then ex¬
pecting it to have a fine edge.”
“ What ! Has he lost his powers ? ”
“ Well, I would not go so far as that. But they
are not so good as they were. He sees a disguised
policeman in every sitter and it distracts him. Still he
is dependable so far as he goes. Yes, on the whole
we had better have Tom.”
“ And the sitters ? ”
“ I expect Professor Challenger may wish to bring
a friend or two of his own.”
“ They will form a horrible block of vibrations.
We must have some of our own sympathetic people
to counteract it. There is Delicia Freeman. She
would come. I would come myself. You would come,
Mason ? ”
“ Of course I would.”
“ And you, Smith ? ”
“ No, no ! I have my paper to look after, three
services, two burials, one marriage, and five meetings
all next week.”
“ Well, we can easily get one or two more. Eight
is Linden’s favourite number. So now, Malone, you
have only to get the great man’s consent and the date.”
“ And the spirit confirmation,” said Mason, seri-
252
THE LAND OF MIST
ously. “ We must take our partners into consulta¬
tion.”
“ Of course we must, padre. That is the right note
to strike. Well, that’s settled, Malone, and we can
only await the event.”
As it chanced, a very different event was awaiting
Malone that evening, and he came upon one of those
chasms which unexpectedly open across the path of
life. When, in his ordinary routine, he reached the
office of the Gazette , he was informed by the commis¬
sionaire that Mr. Beaumont desired to see him.
Malone’s immediate superior was the old Scotch sub¬
editor, Mr. McArdle, and it was rare indeed for the
supreme editor to cast a glimpse down from that peak
whence he surveyed the kingdoms of the world, or to
show any cognisance of his humble fellow-workers
upon the slopes beneath him. The great man, clean¬
shaven, prosperous and capable, sat in his palatial
sanctum amid a rich assortment of old oak furniture
and sealing-wax-red leather. He continued his letter
when Malone entered, and only raised his shrewd,
grey eyes after some minutes interval.
“ Ah, Mr. Malone, good evening ! I have wanted
to see you for some little time. Won’t you sit down ?
It is in reference to these articles on psychic matters
which you have been writing. You opened them in a
tone of healthy scepticism, tempered by humour,
which was very acceptable both to me and to our pub¬
lic. I regret, however, to observe that your view
changed as you proceeded, and that you have now
assumed a position in which you really seem to condone
some of these practises. That, I need not say, is not
the policy of the Gazette, and we should have discon¬
tinued the articles had it not been that we had an-
IN WHICH TRAPS ARE LAID
253
nounced a series by an impartial investigator. We
have had to continue, but the tone must change.”
“ What do you wish me to do, sir ? ”
“ You must get the funny side of it again. That is
what our public loves. Poke fun at it all. Call up
the maiden aunt and make her talk in an amusing
fashion. You grasp my meaning ? ”
“ I am afraid, sir, it has ceased to seem funny in my
eyes. On the contrary, I take it more and more
seriously.”
Beaumont shook his solemn head.
“ So, unfortunately, do our subscribers.” He had
a small pile of letters upon the desk beside him and he
took one up.
“ Look at this. ‘ I had always regarded your
paper as a God-fearing publication, and I would re¬
mind you that such practises as your correspondent
seems to condone are expressly forbidden both in
Leviticus and Deuteronomy. I should share your
sin if I continued to be a subscriber.’ ”
“ Bigoted ass ! ” muttered Malone.
“ So he may be, but the penny of a bigoted ass is as
good as any other penny. Here is another letter:
‘ Surely in this age of free-thought and enlightenment
you are not helping a movement which tries to lead us
back to the exploded idea of angelic and diabolic in¬
telligences outside ourselves. If so, I must ask you
to cancel my subscription.’ ”
“ It would be amusing, sir, to shut these various
objectors up in a room and let them settle it among
themselves.”
“ That may be, Mr. Malone, but what I have to
consider is the circulation of the Gazette.”
“ Don’t you think, sir, that possibly you underrate
the intelligence of the public, and that behind these
254
THE LAND OF MIST
extremists of various sorts there is a vast body of
people who have been impressed by the utterances of
so many great and honourable witnesses ? Is it not
our duty to keep these people abreast of the real
facts without making fun of them ? ”
Mr. Beaumont shrugged his shoulders.
“ The Spiritualists must light their own battle.
This is not a propaganda newspaper, and we make no
pretense to lead the public on religious beliefs.”
“ No, no, I only meant as to the actual facts. Look
how systematically they are kept in the dark. When,
for example, did one ever read an intelligent article
upon ectoplasm in any London paper ? Who would
imagine that this all-important substance has been
examined and described and endorsed by men of
science with innumerable photographs to prove their
words ? ”
“ Well, well,” said Beaumont, impatiently. “ I am
afraid I am too busy to argue the question. The
point of this interview is that I have had a letter from
Mr. Cornelius to say that we must at once take
another line.”
Mr. Cornelius was the owner of the Gazette, hav¬
ing become so, not from any personal merit, but be¬
cause his father left him some millions, part of which
he expended upon this purchase. He seldom was seen
in the office himself, but occasionally a paragraph in
the paper recorded that his yacht had touched at Men¬
tone and that he had been seen at the Monte Carlo
tables, or that he was expected in Leicestershire for
the season. He was a man of no force of brain or
character, though occasionally he swayed public affairs
by a manifesto printed in larger type upon his own
front page. Without being dissolute, he was a free
liver, living in a constant luxury which placed him
IN WHICH TRAPS ARE LAID
255
always on the edge of vice and occasionally over the
border. Malone’s hot blood flushed to his head as he
thought of this trifler, this insect, coming between
mankind and a message of instruction and consolation
descending from above. And yet those clumsy, child¬
ish fingers could actually turn the tap and cut off the
divine stream, however much it might break through
in other quarters.
“ So that is final, Mr. Malone,” said Beaumont,
with the manner of one who ends an argument.
“ Quite final ! ” said Malone. “ So final that it
marks the end of my connection with your paper. I
have a six month’s contract. When it ends, I go 1 ”
“ Please yourself, Mr. Malone.” Mr. Beaumont
went on with his writing.
Malone, with the flush of battle still upon him, went
into McArdle’s room and told him what had hap¬
pened. The old Scotch sub-editor was very perturbed.
“ Eh, man, it’s that Irish blood of yours. A drop o’
Scotch is a good thing, either in your veins or at the
bottom o’ a glass. Go back, man, and say you have
reconseedered ! ”
“ Not I ! The idea of this man Cornelius, with his
pot-belly and red face, and — well, you know all about
his private life — the idea of such a man dictating what
folk are to believe, and asking me to make fun of the
holiest thing on this earth ! ”
“ Man, you’ll be ruined ! ”
“ Well, better men than I have been ruined over this
cause. But I’ll get another job.”
“ Not if Cornelius can stop you. If you get the
name of an insubordinate dog there is no place for
you in Fleet Street.”
“ It’s a damned shame ! ” cried Malone. “ The
way this thing has been treated is a disgrace to journal-
256
THE LAND OF MIST
ism. It’s not Britain alone. America is worse. We
seem to have the lowest, most soulless folk that ever
lived on the Press — good-hearted fellows too, but
material to a man. And these are the leaders of the
people ! It’s awful ! ”
McArdle put a fatherly hand upon the young man’s
shoulder.
“ Weel, weel, lad, we take the world as we find it.
We didn’t make it and we’re no reesponsible. Give it
time ! Give it time ! We’re a’ in such a hurry.
Gang hame, noo, think it over, remember your career,
that young leddy of yours, and then come back and
eat the old pie that all of us have to eat if we are to
keep our places in the world.”
CHAPTER XVI
IN WHICH CHALLENGER HAS THE EXPERIENCE OF HIS
LIFETIME
SO now the nets were set and the pit was dug and
the hunters were all ready for the great quarry,
but the question was whether the creature would allow
himself to be driven in the right direction. Had Chal¬
lenger been told that the meeting was really held in
the hope of putting convincing evidence before him as
to the truth of spirit intercourse with the aim of his
eventual conversion, it would have roused mingled
anger and derision in his breast. But the clever Ma¬
lone, aided and abetted by Enid, still put forward the
idea that his presence would be a protection against
fraud, and that he would be able to point out to them
how and why they had been deceived. With this
thought in his mind, Challenger gave a contemptuous
and condescending consent to the proposal that he
should grace with his presence a proceeding which
was, in his opinion, more fitted to the stone cabin of a
neolithic savage than to the serious attention of one
who represented the accumulated culture and wisdom
of the human race.
Enid accompanied her father, and he also brought
with him a curious companion who was strange both to
Malone and to the rest of the company. This was a
large, raw-boned Scottish youth, with a freckled face,
a huge figure, and a taciturnity which nothing could
penetrate. No question could discover where his
257
258
THE LAND OF MIST
interests in psychic research might lie, and the only
positive thing obtained from him was that his name
was Nicholl. Malone and Mailey went together to
the rendezvous at Holland Park, where they found
awaiting them Delicia Freeman, the Rev. Charles
Mason, Mr. and Mrs. Ogilvy of the College, Mr.
Bolsover of Hammersmith, and Lord Roxton, who
had become assiduous in his psychic studies, and was
rapidly progressing in knowledge. There were nine
in all, a mixed, inharmonious assembly, from which no
experienced investigator could expect great results.
On entering the seance room Linden was found seated
in the arm-chair, his wife beside him, and was intro¬
duced collectively to the company, most of whom were
already his friends. Challenger took up the matter at
once with the air of a man who will stand no non¬
sense.
“ Is this the medium ? ” he asked, eyeing Linden
with much disfavour.
“Yes.”
“ Has he been searched ? ”
“ Not yet.”
“ Who will search him ? ”
“ Two men of the company have been selected.”
Challenger sniffed his suspicions.
“ Which men ? ” he asked.
“ It is suggested that you and your friend, Mr.
Nicholl, shall do so. There is a bedroom next door.”
Poor Linden was marched off between them in a
manner which reminded him unpleasantly of his prison
experiences. He had been nervous before but this
ordeal and the overpowering presence of Challenger
made him still more so. He shook his head mourn¬
fully at Mailey when he reappeared.
EXPERIENCE OF HIS LIFETIME 259
“ I doubt we will get nothing to-day. Maybe it
would be wise to postpone the sitting,” said he.
Mailey came round and patted him on the shoulder,
while Mrs. Linden took his hand.
“ It’s all right, Tom,” said Mailey. “ Remember
that you have a bodyguard of friends round you who
won’t see you ill used.” Then Mailey spoke to Chal¬
lenger in a sterner way than was his wont. “ I beg
you to remember, sir, that a medium is as delicate an
instrument as any to be found in your laboratories.
Do not abuse it. I presume that you found nothing
compromising upon his person ? ”
“ No, sir, I did not. And as a result he assures us
that we will get nothing to-day.”
“ He says so because your manner has disturbed
him. You must treat him more gently.”
Challenger’s expression did not promise any amend¬
ment. His eyes fell upon Mrs. Linden.
“ I understand that this person is the medium’s
wife. She should also be searched.”
“ That is a matter of course,” said the Scotsman
Ogilvy. “ My wife and your daughter will take her
out. But I beg you, Professor Challenger, to be as
harmonious as you can, and to remember that we are
all as interested in the results as you are, so that the
whole company will suffer if you should disturb the
conditions.”
Mr. Bolsover, the grocer, rose with as much dignity
as if he were presiding at his favourite temple.
“ I move,” said he, “ that Professor Challenger be
searched.”
Challenger’s beard bristled with anger.
“ Search me ! What do you mean, sir ? ”
Bolsover was not to be intimidated.
“ You are here not as our friend but as our enemy.
260
THE LAND OF MIST
If you was to prove fraud it would be a personal
triumph for you — see ? Therefore I, for one, says
as you should be searched.”
“ Do you mean to insinuate, sir, that I am capable
of cheating ? ” trumpeted Challenger.
“ Well, Professor, we are all accused of it in turn,”
said Mailey smiling. “We all feel as indignant as
you are at first, but after a time you get used to it.
I’ve been called a liar, a lunatic — goodness knows
what. What does it matter ? ”
“ It is a monstrous proposition,” said Challenger,
glaring all round him.
“ Well, sir,” said Ogilvy, who was a particularly
pertinacious Scot. “ Of course, it is open to you to
walk out of the room and leave us. But if you sit,
you must sit under what we consider to be scientific
conditions. It is not scientific that a man who is
known to be bitterly hostile to the movement should
sit with us in the dark with no check as to what he
may have in his pockets.”
“ Come, come ! ” cried Malone. “ Surely we can
trust to the honour of Professor Challenger.”
“ That’s all very well,” said Bolsover. “ I did not
observe that Professor Challenger trusted so very
much to the honour of Mr. and Mrs. Linden.”
“ We have cause to be careful,” said Ogilvy. “ I
can assure you that there are frauds practised on
mediums just as there are frauds practised by me¬
diums. I could give you plenty of examples. No, sir,
you will have to be searched.”
“ It won’t take a minute,” said Lord Roxton.
“ What I mean young Malone here and I could give
you a once over in no time.”
“ Quite so, come on ! ” said Malone.
And so Challenger, like a red-eyed bull with dilat-
EXPERIENCE OF HIS LIFETIME 261
ing nostrils, was led from the room. A few minutes
later, all preliminaries being completed, they were
seated in the circle and the seance had begun.
But already the conditions had been destroyed.
Those meticulous researchers who insist upon tying
up a medium until the poor creature resembles a fowl
trussed for roasting, or who glare their suspicions at
him before the lights are lowered, do not realise that
they are like people who add moisture to gunpowder
and then expect to explode it. They ruin their own
results, and then when those results do not occur
imagine that their own astuteness, rather than their
own lack of understanding, has been the cause.
Hence it is that at humble gatherings all over the
land, in an atmosphere of sympathy and of reverence,
there are such happenings as the cold man of
“ Science ” is never privileged to see.
All the sitters felt churned up by the preliminary
altercation, but how much more did it mean to the
sensitive centre of it all ! To him the room was filled
with conflicting rushes and eddies of psychic power,
whirling this way or that, and as difficult for him to
navigate as the rapids below Niagara. He groaned
in his despair. Everything was mixed and confused.
He was beginning as usual with his clairvoyance, but
names buzzed in his etheric ears without sequence or
order. The word “ John ” seemed to predominate, so
he said so. Did “John” mean anything to anyone? A
cavernous laugh from Challenger was the only reply.
Then he had the surname of Chapman. Yes, Mailey
had lost a friend named Chapman. But it was years
ago, and there seemed no reason for his presence, nor
could he furnish his Christian name. “ Budworth ” —
no; no one would own to a friend named Budworth.
Definite messages came across, but they seemed to have
262
THE LAND OF MIST
no reference to the present company. Everything was
going amiss, and Malone’s spirits sank to zero. Chal¬
lenger sniffed so loudly that Ogilvy remonstrated.
“ You make matters worse, sir, when you show
your feelings,” said he. “ I can assure you that in ten
years of constant experience I have never known the
medium so far out, and I attribute it entirely to your
own conduct.”
“ Quite so,” said Challenger with satisfaction.
“ I am afraid it is no use, Tom,” said Mrs. Linden.
“ How are you feeling now, dear ? Would you wish
to stop ? ”
But Linden, under all his gentle exterior, was a
fighter. He had in another form those same qualities
which had brought his brother within an ace of the
Lonsdale Belt.
“ No, I think, maybe, it is only the mental part that
is confused. If I am in trance I’ll get past that. The
physicals may be better. Anyhow I’ll try.”
The lights were turned lower until they were a mere
crimson glimmer. The curtain of the cabinet was
drawn. Outside it on the one side, dimly outlined
to his audience, Tom Linden, breathing stertorously
in his trance, lay back in a wooden arm-chair. His
wife kept watch and ward at the other side of the
cabinet.
But nothing happened.
Quarter of an hour passed. Then another quarter
of an hour. The company was patient, but Challenger
had begun to fidget in his seat. Everything seemed
to have gone cold and dead. Not only was nothing
happening, but somehow all expectation of anything
happening seemed to have passed away.
“ It’s no use ! ” cried Mailey at last.
“ I fear not,” said Malone.
EXPERIENCE OF HIS LIFETIME 263
The medium stirred and groaned; he was waking
up. Challenger gave an ostentatious yawn.
“ Is not this a waste of time ? ” he asked.
Mrs. Linden wras passing her hand over the me¬
dium’s head and brow. His eyes had opened.
“ Any results ? ” he asked.
“ It s no use, Tom. We shall have to postpone.”
“ I think so, too,” said Mailey.
“ It is a great strain upon him under these adverse
conditions,” remarked Ogilvy, looking angrily at
Challenger.
“ I should think so,” said the latter with a com¬
placent smile.
But Linden was not to be beaten.
“ The conditions are bad,” said he. “ The vibra¬
tions are all wrong. But I’ll try inside the cabinet.
It concentrates the force.”
“ Well, it’s the last chance,” said Mailey. “ We
may as well try it.”
The arm-chair was lifted inside the cloth tent and
the medium followed, drawing the curtain behind him.
“ It condenses the ectoplasmic emanations,” Ogilvy
explained.
“ No doubt,” said Challenger. “ At the same time,
in the interests of truth, I must point out that the
disappearance of the medium is most regrettable.”
“ For goodness sake don’t start wrangling again,”
cried Mailey v/ith impatience. “ Let us get some
results, and then it will be time enough to discuss
their value.”
Again there was a weary wait. Then came some
hollow groanings from inside the cabinet. I he
Spiritualists sat up expectantly.
“ That’s ectoplasm,” said Ogilvy. “ It always
causes pain on emission.”
264
THE LAND OF MIST
The words were hardly out of his mouth when the
curtains were torn open with sudden violence and
a rattling of all the rings. In the dark aperture there
was outlined a vague white figure. It advanced slowly
and with hesitation into the centre of the room. In
the red-tinted gloom all definite outline was lost, and
it appeared simply as a moving white patch in the
darkness. With the deliberation which suggested fear
it came, step by step, until it was opposite the Pro¬
fessor.
“ Now ! ” he bellowed in his stentorian voice.
There was a shout, a scream, a crash. “ I’ve got
him ! ” roared someone. “ Turn up the lights ! ”
yelled another. “ Be careful ! You may kill the
medium ! ” cried a third. The circle was broken.
Challenger rushed to the switch and put on all the
lights. The place was so flooded with radiance that
it was some seconds before the bewildered and half-
blinded spectators could see the details.
When they had recovered their sight and their
balance, the spectacle was a deplorable one for the
majority of the company. Tom Linden, looking white,
dazed, and ill, was seated upon the ground. Over him
stood the huge young Scotsman who had borne him
to earth; while Mrs. Linden, kneeling beside her hus¬
band, was glaring up at his assailant. There was
silence as the company surveyed the scene. It was
broken by Professor Challenger.
“ Well, gentlemen, I presume that there is no more
to be said. Your medium has been exposed as he
deserved to be. You can see now the nature of your
ghosts. I must thank Mr. Nicholl, who, I may re¬
mark, is the famous football player of that name, for
the prompt way in which he has carried out his in¬
structions.”
EXPERIENCE OF HIS LIFETIME 265
“ I collared him low,” said the tall youth. “ He
was easy.”
“You did it very effectively. You have done
public service by helping to expose a heartless cheat.
I need not say that a prosecution will follow.”
But Mailey now intervened and with such authority
that Challenger was forced to listen.
“ Your mistake is not unnatural, sir, though the
course which you adopted in your ignorance is one
which might well have been fatal to the medium.”
“ My ignorance, indeed ! If you speak like that I
warn you that I will look upon you not as dupes, but
as accomplices.”
“ One moment, Professor Challenger. I would ask
you one direct question, and I ask for an equally direct
reply. Was not the figure which we all saw before this
painful episode a white figure ? ”
“ Yes, it was.”
“ You see now that the medium is entirely dressed
in black. Where is the white garment ? ”
“ It is immaterial to me where it is. No doubt
his wife and himself are prepared for all eventualities.
They have their own means of secreting the sheet,
or whatever it may have been. These details can be
explained in the police court.”
“ Examine now. Search the room for anything
white.”
“ I know nothing of the room. I can only use my
common sense. The man is exposed masquerading as
a spirit. Into what corner or crevice he has thrust
his disguise is a matter of small importance.”
“ On the contrary, it is a vital matter. What you
have seen has not been an imposture, but has been a
very real psychic phenomenon.”
Challenger laughed.
266
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Yes, sir, a very real phenomenon. You have seen
a transfiguration which is the half-way state of ma¬
terialisation. You will kindly realise that spirit
guides, who conduct such affairs, care nothing for your
doubts and suspicions. They set themselves to get
certain results, and if they are prevented by the
infirmities of the circle from getting them one way
they get them in another without consulting your prej¬
udice or convenience. In this case being unable,
owing to the evil conditions which you have yourself
created, to build up an ectoplasmic form, they wrapped
the unconscious medium in an ectoplasmic covering
and sent him forth from the cabinet. He is as inno¬
cent of imposture as you are.”
“ I swear to God,” said Linden, “ that from the time
I entered the cabinet until I found myself upon the
floor I knew nothing.” He had staggered to his feet
and was shaking all over in his agitation, so that he
could not hold the glass of water which his wife had
brought him.
Challenger shrugged his shoulders.
“Your excuses,” he said, “only open up fresh
abysses of credulity. My own duty is obvious, and it
will be done to the uttermost. Whatever you have
to say will, no doubt, receive such consideration as it
deserves from the magistrate.” Then Professor Chal¬
lenger turned to go as one who has triumphantly
accomplished that for which he came. “ Come,
Enid ! ” said he.
And now occurred a development so sudden, so
unexpected, so dramatic, that no one present will ever
cease to have it in vivid memory.
No answer was returned to Challenger’s call.
Everyone else had risen to their feet. Only Enid
remained in her chair. She sat with her head on one
EXPERIENCE OF HIS LIFETIME 267
shoulder, her eyes closed, her hair partly loosened — a
model for a sculptor.
“ She is asleep,” said Challenger. “ Wake up,
Enid. I am going.”
There was no response from the girl. Mailey was
bending over her.
“ Hush ! Don’t disturb her ! She is in trance.”
Challenger rushed forward. “ What have you
done ? Your infernal hankey-pankey has frightened
her. She has fainted.”
Mailey had raised her eyelid.
“No, no, her eyes are turned up. She is in trance.
Your daughter, sir, is a powerful medium.”
“ A medium ! You are raving. Wake up, girl !
Wake up ! ”
“ For God’s sake leave her ! You may regret it all
your life if you don’t. It is not safe to break abruptly
into the mediumistic trance.”
Challenger stood in bewilderment. For once his
presence of mind had deserted him. Was it possible
that his child stood on the edge of some mysterious
precipice and that he might push her over ?
“ What shall I do ? ” he asked helplessly.
“ Have no fear. All will be well. Sit down !
Sit down, all of you. Ah ! she is about to speak.”
The girl had stirred. She had sat straight in her
chair. Her lips trembled. One hand was out¬
stretched.
“ For him ! ” she cried, pointing to Challenger.
“ He must not hurt my Medi. It is a message. For
him.”
There was breathless silence among the persons who
had gathered round the girl.
“ Who speaks ? ” asked Mailey.
268
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Victor speaks, Victor. He shall not hurt my
Medi. I have a message. For him ! ”
“ Yes, yes. What is the message ? ”
“ His wife is here.”
“ Yes ! ”
“ She says that she has been once before. That she
came through this girl. It was after she was buried.
She knock and he hear her knocking, but not under¬
stand.”
“ Does this mean anything to you, Professor
Challenger ? ”
His great eyebrows were bunched over his sus¬
picious, questioning eyes, and he glared like a beast at
bay from one to the other of the faces round him.
There was a trick — a vile trick. They had suborned
his own daughter. It was damnable. He would
expose them, every one. No, he had no questions to
ask. He could see through it all. She had been won
over. He could not have believed it of her, and yet
it must be so. She was doing it for Malone’s sake.
A woman would do anything for a man she loved.
Yes, it was damnable. Far from being softened he
was more vindictive than ever. His furious face, his
broken words, expressed his convictions.
Again the girl’s arm shot out, pointing in front of
her.
“ Another message ! ”
“ To whom ? ”
“ To him. The man who wanted to hurt my Medi.
He must not hurt my Medi. A man here — two men
— wish to give him a message.”
“ Yes, Victor, let us have it.”
“ First man’s name is . . .” The girl’s head
slanted and her ear was upturned, as if listening.
“ Yes, yes, I have it ! It is Al-Al-Aldridge.”
EXPERIENCE OF HIS LIFETIME 269
“ Does that mean anything to you ? ”
Challenger staggered. A look of absolute wonder
had come upon his face.
“ Who is the second man ? ” he asked.
“Ware. Yes, that is it. Ware.”
Challenger sat down suddenly. He passed his
hand over his brow. He was deadly pale. His face
was clammy with sweat.
“ Do you know them ? ”
“ I knew two men of those names.”
“ They have messages for you,” said the girl.
Challenger seemed to brace himself for a blow.
“ Well, what is it ? ”
“Too private. Not speak, all these people here.”
“ We shall wait outside,” said Mailey. “ Come,
friends, let the Professor have his message.”
They moved towards the door leaving the man
seated in front of his daughter. An unwonted ner¬
vousness seemed suddenly to seize him. “ Malone,
stay with me ! ”
The door closed and the three were left together.
“ What is the message ? ”
“ It is about a powder.”
“ Yes, yes.”
“ A grey powder ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ The message that men want to say is: ‘You did
not kill us.’ ”
“ Ask them then — ask them — how did they die ? ”
His voice was broken and his great frame was quiver¬
ing with his emotion.
“ They die disease.”
“ What disease ? ”
“ New — new . . . What that ? . . . Pneu¬
monia.
270
THE LAND OF MIST
Challenger sank back in his chair with an immense
sigh of relief. “ My God ! ” he cried, wiping his
brow. Then :
“ Call in the others, Malone.”
They had waited on the landing and now streamed
into the room. Challenger had risen to meet them.
His first words were to Tom Linden. He spoke like
a shaken man whose pride for the instant was
broken.
“ As to you, sir, I do not presume to judge you.
A thing has occurred to me which is so strange, and
also so certain, since my own trained senses have
attested it, that I am not prepared to deny any ex¬
planation which has been offered of your previous
conduct. I beg to withdraw any injurious expressions
I may have used.”
Tom Linden was a true Christian in his character.
His forgiveness was instant and sincere.
“ I cannot doubt that my daughter has some strange
power which bears out much which you, Mr. Mailey,
have told me. I was justified in my scientific scepti¬
cism, but you have to-day offered me some incontro¬
vertible evidence.”
“We all go through the same experience, Pro¬
fessor. We doubt, and then in turn we are doubted.”
“ I can hardly conceive that my word will be doubted
upon such a point,” said Challenger, with dignity. “ I
can truly say that I have had information to-night
which no living person upon this earth was in a posi¬
tion to give. So much is beyond all question.”
“ The young lady is better,” said Mrs. Linden.
Enid was sitting up and staring round her with
bewildered eyes.
“ What has happened, Father ? I seem to have
been asleep.”
EXPERIENCE OF HIS LIFETIME 271
“ All right, dear. We will talk of that later. Come
home with me now. I have much to think over. Per¬
haps you will come back with us, Malone. I feel that
I owe you some explanation.”
When Professor Challenger reached his flat, he
gave Austin orders that he was on no account to be
disturbed, and he led the way into his library, where
he sat in his big arm-chair with Malone upon his left
and his daughter upon his right. He had stretched
out his great paw and enclosed Enid’s small hand.
“ My dear,” he said, after a long silence, “ I can¬
not doubt that you are possessed of a strange power,
for it has been shown to me to-night with a fullness and
a clearness which is final. Since you have it I cannot
deny that others may have it also, and the general idea
of mediumship has entered within my conceptions of
what is possible. I will not discuss the question, for
my thoughts are still confused upon the subject, and I
will need to thrash the thing out with you, young
Malone, and with your friends, before I can get a
more definite idea. I will only say that my mind has
received a shock, and that a new avenue of knowledge
seems to have opened up before me.”
“ We shall be proud indeed,” said Malone, “ if we
can help you.”
Challenger gave a wry smile.
“Yes, I have no doubt that a headline in your
paper, ‘ Conversion of Professor Challenger ’ would
be a triumph. I warn you that I have not got so far.”
“ We certainly would do nothing premature and
your opinions may remain entirely private.”
“ I have never lacked the moral courage to pro¬
claim my opinions when they are formed, but the time
has not yet come. However, I have received two
272
THE LAND OF MIST
messages to-night, and I can only ascribe to them an
extra-corporeal origin. I take it for granted, Enid,
that you were indeed insensible.”
“ I assure you, Father, that I knew nothing.”
“ Quite so. You have always been incapable of
deceit. First there came a message from your mother.
She assured me that she had indeed produced those
sounds which I heard and of which I have told you.
It is clear now that you were the medium and that you
were not in sleep but in trance. It is incredible, in¬
conceivable, grotesquely wonderful — but it would
seem to be true.”
“ Crookes used almost those very words,” said
Malone. He wrote that it was all ‘ perfectly im¬
possible and absolutely true.’ ”
“ I owe him an apology. Perhaps I owe a good
many people an apology.”
“ None will ever be asked for,” said Malone.
“ These people are not made that way.”
“ It is the second case which I would explain.”
The Professor fidgeted uneasily in his chair. “ It is
a matter of great privacy — one to which I have never
alluded, and which no one on earth could have known.
Since you heard so much you may as well hear all.
“ It happened when I was a young physician, and it
is not too much to say that it cast a cloud over my
life — a cloud which has only been raised to-night.
Others may try to explain what has occurred by tele¬
pathy, by subconscious mind action, by what they will,
but I cannot doubt — it is impossible to doubt — that
a message has come to me from the dead.
“ There was a new drug under discussion at that
time. It is useless to enter into details which you
would be incapable of appreciating. Suffice it that it
was of the datura family which supplies deadly poisons
EXPERIENCE OF HIS LIFETIME 273
as well as powerful medicines. I had received one of
the earliest specimens, and I desired my name to be
associated with the first exploration of its properties.
I gave it to two men, Ware and Aldridge. I gave
it in what I thought was a safe dose. They were
patients, you understand, in my ward in a public
hospital. Both were found dead in the morning.
“ I had given it secretly. None knew of it. There
was no scandal for they were both very ill, and their
death seemed natural. But in my own heart I had
fears. I believed that I had killed them. It has al¬
ways been a dark background to my life. You heard
yourselves to-night that it was from the disease, and
not from the drug that they died.”
“ Poor Dad ! ” whispered Enid, patting the great
hirsute hand. “ Poor Dad ! What you must have
suffered ! ”
Challenger was too proud a man to stand pity, even
from his own daughter. He pulled away his hand.
“ I worked for science,” he said. “ Science must
take risks. I do not know that I am to blame. And
yet — and yet — my heart is very light to-night.”
CHAPTER XVII
WHERE THE MISTS CLEAR AWAY
MALONE had lost his billet and had found his
way in Fleet Street blocked by the rumour of
his independence. His place upon the staff had been
taken by a young and drunken Jew, who had at once
won his spurs by a series of highly humorous articles
upon psychic matters, peppered with assurances that
he approached the subject with a perfectly open and
impartial mind. His final device of offering five
thousand pounds if the spirits of the dead would place
the three first horses in the coming Derby, and his
demonstration that ectoplasm was in truth the froth
of bottled porter artfully concealed by the medium,
are newspaper stunts which are within the recollection
of the reader.
But the path which closed on one side had opened on
the other. Challenger, lost in his daring dreams and
ingenious experiments, had long needed an active,
clear-headed man to manage his business interests,
and to control his world-wide patents. There were
many devices, the fruits of his life’s work, which
brought in income, but had to be carefully watched
and guarded. His automatic alarm for ships in
shallow waters, his device for deflecting a torpedo, his
new and economical method of separating nitrogen
from the air, his radical improvements in wireless
transmission and his novel treatment of pitchblende,
were all moneymakers. Enraged by the attitude of
274
THE MISTS CLEAR AWAY
275
Cornelius, the Professor placed the management of
all these in the hands of his prospective son-in-law,
who diligently guarded his interests.
Challenger himself had altered. His colleagues,
and those about him, observed the change without
clearly perceiving the cause. He was a gentler, hum¬
bler and more spiritual man. Deep in his soul was the
conviction that he, the champion of scientific method
and of truth, had, in fact, for many years been un¬
scientific in his methods and a formidable obstruction
to the advance of the human soul through the jungle
of the unknown. It was this self-condemnation which
had wrought the change in his character. Also, with
characteristic energy, he had plunged into the wonder¬
ful literature of the subject, and as, without the prej¬
udice which had formerly darkened his brain, he
read the illuminating testimony of Hare, de Morgan,
Crookes, Lombroso, Barrett, Lodge and so many
other great men, he marvelled that he could ever for
one instant have imagined that such a consensus of
opinion could be founded upon error. His violent and
whole-hearted nature made him take up the psychic
cause with the same vehemence, and even occasionally
the same intolerance with which he had once denounced
it, and the old lion bared his teeth and roared back at
those who had once been his associates. His remark¬
able article in the Spectator began, “ The obtuse in¬
credulity and stubborn unreason of the prelates who
refused to look through the telescope of Galileo and
to observe the moons of Jupiter, has been far tran¬
scended in our own days by those noisy controversial¬
ists, who rashly express extreme opinions upon those
psychic matters which they have never had either the
time, or the inclination to examine”; while in a final
sentence he expressed his conviction that his oppo-
276
THE LAND OF MIST
nents, “ did not in truth represent the thought of the
twentieth century, but might rather be regarded as
mental fossils dug from some early Pliocene horizon.”
Critics raised their hands in horror, as is their wont,
against the robust language of the article, though
violence of attack has for so many years been con¬
doned in the case of those who are in opposition. So
we may leave Challenger, his black mane slowly turn¬
ing to grey, but his great brain growing ever stronger
and more virile as it faced such problems as the future
had in store — a future which had ceased to be bounded
by the narrow horizon of death, and which now
stretched away into the infinite possibilities and de¬
velopments of continued survival of personality,
character and work.
The marriage had taken place. It was a quiet
function, but no prophet could ever have foretold the
guests whom Enid’s father had assembled in the
Whitehall Rooms. They were a happy crowd, all
welded together by the opposition of the world, and
united in one common knowledge. There was the
Rev. Charles Mason, who had officiated at the cere¬
mony, and if ever a saint’s blessing consecrated a
union, so it had been that morning. Now in his black
garb with his cheery, toothsome smile, he was moving
about among the crowd carrying peace and kindliness
with him. The yellow-bearded Mailey, the old war¬
rior, scarred with many combats and eager for more,
stood beside his wife, the gentle squire who bore his
weapons and nerved his arm. There was Dr. Maupuis
from Paris, trying to make the waiter understand that
he wanted coffee, and being presented with tooth¬
picks, while the gaunt Lord Roxton viewed his efforts
with cynical amusement. There, too, was the good
THE MISTS CLEAR AWAY
277
Bolsover with several of the Hammersmith circle,
and Tom Linden with his wife, and Smith, the fight¬
ing bull-dog from the north, and Dr. Atkinson, and
Mervin the psychic editor with his kind wife, and the
two Ogilvies, and little Miss Delicia with her bag
and her tracts, and Dr. Ross Scotton, now successfully
cured, and Dr. Felkin who had cured him so far as
his earthly representative, Nurse Ursula, could fill his
place. All these and many more were visible to our
two-inch spectrum of colour, and audible to our four
octaves of sound. How many others, outside those
narrow limitations, may have added their presence and
their blessing — who shall say ?
One last scene before we close the record. It was
in a sitting-room of the Imperial Hotel at Folkestone.
At the window sat Mr. and Mrs. Edward Malone
gazing westwards down Channel at an angry evening
sky. Great purple tentacles, threatening forerunners
from what lay unseen and unknown beyond the ho¬
rizon, were writhing up towards the zenith. Below
the little Dieppe boat was panting eagerly homewards.
Far out the great ships were keeping mid-channel as
scenting danger to come. The vague threat of that
menacing sky acted subconsciously upon the minds of
both of them.
“ Tell me, Enid,” said Malone, “ of all our wonder¬
ful psychic experiences, which is now most vivid in
your mind ? ”
“ It is curious that you should ask, Ned, for I was
thinking of it at that moment. I suppose it was the
association of ideas with that terrible sky. It was of
Miromar I was thinking, the strange mystery man
with his words of doom.”
“ And so was I.”
278
THE LAND OF MIST
“ Have you heard of him since ? ”
“ Once and once only. It was on a Sunday morning
in Hyde Park. He was speaking to a little group of
men. I mixed with the crowd and listened. It was
the same warning.”
“ How did they take it ? Did they laugh ? ”
“ Well, you have seen and heard him. You could
not laugh, could you ? ”
“ No, indeed. But you don’t take it seriously,
Ned, do you ? Look at the solid old earth of Eng¬
land. Look at our great hotel and the people on the
Lees, and the stodgy morning papers and all the
settled order of a civilised land. Do you really think
that anything could come to destroy it all ? ”
“ Who knows ? Miromar is not the only one who
says so.”
“ Does he call it the end of the world ? ”
“ No, no, it is the rebirth of the world — of the true
world, the world as God meant it to be.”
“ It is a tremendous message. But what is amiss ?
Why should so dreadful a Judgment fall ? ”
“ It is the materialism, the wooden formalities of
the churches, the alienation of all spiritual impulses,
the denial of the Unseen, the ridicule of this new reve¬
lation — these are the causes according to him.”
“ Surely the world has been worse before now ? ”
“ But never with the same advantages — never with
the education and knowledge and so-called civilisation,
which should have led it to higher things. Look how
everything has been turned to evil. We got the
knowledge of airships. We bomb cities with them.
We learn how to steam under the sea. We murder
seamen with our new knowledge. We gain com¬
mand over chemicals. We turn them into explosives
or poison gases. It goes from worse to worse. At
THE MISTS CLEAR AWAY
279
the present moment every nation upon earth is plot¬
ting secretly how it can best poison the others. Did
God create the planet for this end, and is it likely
that He will allow it to go on from bad to worse ? ”
“ Is it you or Miromar who is talking now ? ”
“ Well, I have myself been brooding over the mat¬
ter, and all my thoughts seem to justify his conclusions.
I read a spirit message which Charles Mason wrote.
It was : ‘ The most dangerous condition for a man or a
nation is when his intellectual side is more developed
than his spiritual.’ Is that not exactly the condition
of the world to-day ? ”
“ And how will it come ? ”
“ Ah, there I can only take Miromar’s word for it.
He speaks of a breaking of all the phials. There is
war, famine, pestilence, earthquake, flood, tidal waves
— all ending in peace and glory unutterable.”
The great purple streamers were right across the
sky. A dull crimson glare, a lurid angry glow, was
spreading in the west. Enid shuddered as she watched
it.
“ One thing we have learned,” said he. “ It is that
two souls, where real love exists, go on and on without
a break through all the spheres. Why, then, should
you and I fear death, or anything which life or death
can bring ? ”
She smiled and put her hand in his.
“ Why, indeed ? ” said she.
THE END
APPENDIX
NOTE ON CHAPTER II
CLAIRVOYANCE IN SPIRITUALISTIC CHURCHES
This phenomenon, as exhibited in Spiritualistic churches or temples,
as the Spiritualists usually call them, varies very much in quality.
So uncertain is it that many congregations have given it up entirely,
as it had become rather a source of scandal than of edification. On
the other hand there are occasions, the conditions being good, the audi¬
ence sympathetic and the medium in good form, when the results
are nothing short of amazing. I was present on one occasion when
Mr. Tom Tyrell of Blackburn, speaking in a sudden call at Don¬
caster — a town with which he was unfamiliar — got not only the de¬
scriptions but even the names of a number of people which were
recognised by the different individuals to whom he pointed. I have
known Mr. Vout Peters also to give forty descriptions in a foreign
city (Liege) where he had never been before, with only one failure
which was afterwards explained. Such results are far above co¬
incidence. What their true raison d’etre may be has yet to be
determined. It has seemed to me sometimes that the vapour which
becomes visible as a solid in ectoplasm, may in its more volatile
condition fill the hall, and that a spirit coming within it may show
up as an invisible shooting star comes into view when it crosses
the atmosphere of the earth. No doubt the illustration is only an
analogy but it may suggest a line of thought.
I remember being present on two occasions in Boston, Massachu¬
setts, when clergymen gave clairvoyance from the steps of the altar,
and with complete success. It struck me as an admirable repro¬
duction of those apostolic conditions when they taught “not only by
words but also by power.” All this has to come back into the
Christian religion before it will be revitalised and restored to its
pristine power. It cannot, however, be done in a day. We want
less faith and more knowledge.
NOTE ON CHAPTER IX
EARTHBOUND SPIRITS
This chapter may be regarded as sensational, but as a fact there is
no incident in it for which chapter and verse may not be given. The
incident of Nell Gwynne, mentioned by Lord Roxton, was told me
280
APPENDIX
281
by Colonel Cornwallis West as having occurred in a country house
of his own. Visitors had met the wraith in the passages and Hd
afterwards, when they saw the portrait of Nell Gwynne which hung
in a sitting-room, exclaimed, “Why, there is the woman I met.”
The adventure of the terrible occupant of the deserted house is
taken with very little change from the experience of Lord St.
Audries in a haunted house near Torquay. This gallant soldier
told the story himself in The Weekly Dispatch (Dec., 1921), and it
is admirably retold in Mrs. Violet Tweedale’s “Phantoms of the
Dawn.” As to the conversation carried on between the clergyman
and the earthbound spirit, the same authoress has described a similar
one when recording the adventures of Lord and Lady Wynford in
Glamis Castle (“Ghosts I Have Seen,” p. 175).
Whence such a spirit draws its stock of material energy is an un¬
solved problem. It is probably from some mediumistic individual
in the neighbourhood. In the extremely interesting case quoted by
the Rev. Charles Mason in the narrative and very carefully observed
by the Psychic Research Society of Reykjavik in Iceland, the for¬
midable earthbound creature proclaimed how it got its vitality. The
man was in life a fisherman of rough and violent character who had
committed suicide. He attached himself to the medium, followed
him to the seances of the Society, and caused indescribable confusion
and alarm, until he was exorcised by some such means as described
in the story. A long account appeared in the “Proceedings of the
American Society of Psychic Research,” and also in the organ of
the Psychic College, “Psychic Science,” for January, 1925. Iceland,
it may be remarked, is very advanced in psychic science, and in pro¬
portion to its population or opportunities is probably ahead of any
other country. The Bishop of Reykjavik is President of the Psychic
Society, which is surely a lesson to our own prelates whose dis-
association from the study of such matters is little less than a scan¬
dal. The matter relates to the nature of the soul and to its fate
in the Beyond, yet there are I believe fewer students of the matter
among our spiritual guides than among any other profession.
NOTE ON CHAPTER X
RESCUE CIRCLES
The scenes in this chapter are drawn very closely either from per¬
sonal experience or from the reports of careful and trustworthy
experimenters. Among the latter are Mr. Tozer of Melbourne, and
Mr. McFarlane of Southsea, both of whom have run methodical
circles for the purpose of giving help to earthbound spirits. Detailed
accounts of experiences which I have personally had in the former
circles are to be found in chapters IV and VI : of my “Wanderings
of a Spiritualist.” I may add that in my own domestic circle, under
my wife’s mediumship, we have been privileged to bring hope and
knowledge to some of these unhappy beings.
Full reports of a number of these dramatic conversations are to
be found in the last hundred pages of the late Admiral Usborne
282
APPENDIX
Moore’s “Glimpses of the Next State.” It should be said that the
Admiral was not personally present at these sittings, but that they
were carried out by people in whom he had every confidence, and
that they were confirmed by sworn affidavits of the sitters. “The
high character of Mr. Leander Fisher,” says the Admiral, “is
sufficient voucher for their authenticity.” The same may be said
of Mr. E. G. Randall, who has published many such cases. He is
one of the leading lawyers of Buffalo, while Mr. Fisher is a Pro¬
fessor of Music in that city.
The natural objection is that, granting the honesty of the in¬
vestigators, the whole experience may be in some way subjective and
have no relation to real facts. Dealing with this the Admiral says :
“I made enquiries as to whether any of the spirits thus brought to
understand that they had entered a new state of consciousness had
been satisfactorily identified. The reply was that many had been
discovered, but after several had been verified it was considered use¬
less to go on searching for the relatives and places of abode in earth
life of the remainder. Such enquiries involved much time and
labour, and always ended with the same result.” In one of the
cases cited (op. cit. p. 524) there is the prototype of the fashionable
woman who died in her sleep as depicted in the text. In all these
instances the returning spirit did not realise that its earth life was
over.
The case of the clergyman and of the sailor from the “Monmouth”
both occurred in my presence at the circle of Mr. Tozer.
The dramatic case where the spirit of a man (it was the case
of several men in the original) manifested at the very time1 of
the accident which caused their death, and where the names were
afterwards verified in the newspaper report, is given by Mr. E. G.
Randall. Another example given by that gentleman may be added
for the consideration of those who have not realised how cogent
is the evidence, and how necessary for us to reconsider our views
of death. It is in “The Dead Flave Never Died” (p. 104).
“I recall an incident that will appeal to the purely materialistic.
I was one of my father’s executors, and after his dissolution and the
settlement of his estate, speaking to me from the next plane, he
told me one night that I had overlooked an item that he wanted
to mention to me.
“I replied: ‘Your mind was ever centred on the accumulation of
money. Why take up the time that is so limited with the discussion
of your estate. It has already been divided.’
“‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘I know that, but I worked too hard for my
money to have it lost, and there is an asset remaining that you have
not discovered.’
“‘Well,’ I said, ‘if that be true, tell me about it.’
“He answered: ‘Some years before I left I loaned a small sum
of money to Susan Stone, who resided in Pennsylvania, and I took
from her a promissory note upon which, under the laws of that
State, I was entitled to enter a judgment at once without suit.
I was somewhat anxious about the loan, so, before its maturity,
I took the note and filed it with the prothonotary at Erie, Pennsyl-
APPENDIX
283
vania, and he entered judgment, which became a lien on her prop¬
erty. In my books of account there was no reference to that note or
judgment. If you will go to the prothonotary’s office in Erie, you
will find the judgment on record, and I want you to collect it.
There are many things that you don’t know about, and this is one
of them.’
“I was much surprised at the information thus received, and
naturally sent for a transcript of that judgment. I found it entered
Oct. 21, 1896, and with that evidence of the indebtedness I collected
from the judgment debtor seventy dollars with interest. I question
if anyone knew of that transaction besides the makers of the note
and the prothonotary at Erie. Certainly I did not know about it.
I had no reason to suspect it. The psychic present at that interview
could not have known about the matter, and I certainly collected
the money. My father’s voice was clearly recognisable on that occa¬
sion, as it has been on hundreds of others, and I cite this instance
for the benefit of those who measure everything from a monetary
standpoint.”
The most striking, however, of all these posthumous communica¬
tions are to be found in “Thirty Years Among the Dead,” by Dr.
Wickland of Los Angeles. This, like many other valuable books
of the sort, can only be obtained in Great Britain at the Psychic
Bookshop in Victoria Street, S. W.
Dr. Wickland and his heroic wife have done work which deserves
the very closest attention from the alienists of the world. If he
makes his point, and the case is a strong one, he not only revolution¬
ises all our ideas about insanity, but he cuts deep also into our views
of criminology, and may well show that we have been punishing
as criminals people who were more deserving of commiseration than
of censure.
Having framed the view that many cases of mania were due to
obsession from undeveloped entities, and having found out by some
line of enquiry, which is not clear to me, that such entities are ex¬
ceedingly sensitive to static electricity when it is passed through the
body which they have invaded, he founded his treatment with re¬
markable results upon this hypothesis. The third factor in his
system was the discovery that such entities were more easily dis¬
lodged if a vacant body was provided for their temporary reception.
Therein lies the heroism of Mrs. Wickland, a very charming and
cultivated lady, who sits in hypnotic trance beside the subject ready
to receive the invader when he is driven forth. It is through the
lips of this lady that the identity and character of the undeveloped
spirit are determined.
The subject having been strapped to the electric chair — the strap¬
ping is very necessary as many are violent maniacs — the power is
turned on. It does not affect the patient, since it is static in its
nature, but it causes acute discomfort to the parasitical spirit, who
rapidly takes refuge in the unconscious form of Mrs. Wickland.
Then follow the amazing conversations which are chronicled in this
volume. The spirit is cross-questioned by the doctor, is admonished,
instructed, and finally dismissed either in the care of some minister-
284
APPENDIX
ing spirit who superintends the proceedings, or relegated to the
charge of some sterner attendant who will hold him in check should
he be unrepentant.
To the scientist who is unfamiliar with psychic work such a bald
statement sounds wild, and I do not myself claim that Dr. Wickland
has finally made out his case, but I do say that our experiences at
rescue circles bear out the general idea, and that he has admittedly
cured many cases which others have found intractable. Occasionally
there is very cogent confirmation. Thus in the case of one female
spirit who bitterly bewailed that she had not taken enough carbolic
acid the week before, the name and address being correctly given
(op. cit. p. 39). _
It is not apparently everyone who is open to this invasion, but
only those who are in some peculiar way psychic sensitives. The
discovery, when fully made out, will be one of the root facts of
the psychology and jurisprudence of the future.
NOTE ON CHAPTER XII
The experience of the young Frenchman and the letters or messages
quoted are extracts from a long series in the curious little book
called “Le Livre Pratique des Esprits.” It has been introduced be¬
cause I have endeavoured, in drawing a sketch of Spiritualism as I
have known it, to introduce the less pleasing shadows which intrude
occasionally into the light. Such practices, I need not say, would
be condemned by any ordinary Spiritualist, but it cannot be denied
that their possibility is disquieting and opens up unpleasant lines of
speculation. They are, however, so exceptional that it may well be
doubted whether the Frenchman was not self-deceived even if he
was not drawing upon his imagination.
NOTE ON CHAPTER XIII
DR. MAUPUIS’ EXPERIMENT ’
The Dr. Maupuis of the narrative is, as every student of psychic
research will realise, the late Dr. Geley, whose splendid work on
this subject will ensure his permanent fame. His was a brain of
the first order, coupled with a moral courage which enabled him to
face with equanimity the cynicism and levity of his critics. With
rare judgment he never went further than the facts carried him,
and yet never flinched from the furthest point which his reason
and the evidence would justify. By the munificence of Mr. Jean
Meyer he had been placed at the head of the Institut Metapsychique,
admirably equipped for scientific work, and he got the full value
out of that equipment. When a British Jean Meyer makes his ap¬
pearance he will get no return for his money if he does not choose
a progressive brain to drive his machine. The great endowment
left to the Stanford University of California has been practically
wasted, because those in charge of it were not Geleys or Richets.
The account of Pithecanthropus is taken from the “Bulletin de
APPENDIX
285
1’Institut Metapsychique.” A well-known lady has described to me
how the creature pressed between her and her neighbours, and how
she placed her hand upon his shaggy skin. An account of this
seance is to be found in Geley’s “L’Ectoplasmie et la Clairvoyance”
(Felix Alcau), p. 345. On page 296 is a photograph of the strange
bird of prey upon the medium’s head. It would take the credulity
of a MacCabe to imagine that all this is imposture.
These various animal types may assume very bizarre forms. In
an unpublished manuscript by Colonel Ochorowitz, which I have
been privileged to see. some new developments are described which
are not only formidable but also unlike any creature with which we
are acquainted.
Since animal forms of this nature have materialised under the
mediumship both of Kluski and of Guzik, their formation would
seem to depend rather upon one of the sitters than upon either of the
mediums, unless we can disconnect them entirely from the circle.
It is usually an axiom among Spiritualists that the spirit visitors
to a circle represent in some way the mental and spiritual tendency
of the circle. Thus in nearly forty years of experience I have
never heard an obscene or blasphemous word at a seance because
such seances have been run in a reverent and religious fashion.
The question therefore may arise whether sittings which are held
for purely scientific and experimental purposes, without the least
recognition of their extreme religious significance, may not evoke
less desirable manifestations of psychic force. The high character,
however, of men like Richet and Geley ensure that the general
tendency shall be good.
It might be argued that a subject with such possibilities had better
be left alone. The answer seems to be that these manifestations
are, fortunately, very rare, whereas the daily comfort of spirit in¬
tercourse illumines thousands of lives. We do not abandon explora¬
tion because the land explored contains some noxious creatures. To
abandon the subject would be to hand it over to such forces of evil
as chose to explore it while depriving ourselves of that knowledge
which would aid us in understanding and counteracting their results.
The greatest pleasure in life is
that of reading . IVhy not then
own the boohs of great novelists
when the price is so small
C Of all the amusements which can possibly
be imagined for a hard-working man, after
his daily toil, or in its intervals , there is
nothing like reading an entertaining book.
It calls for no bodily exertion. It transports
him into a livelier, and gayer, and more di¬
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enjoys himself there he may forget the evils
of the present moment. Nay, it accompanies
him to his next day's work, and gives him
something to think of besides the mere
mechanical drudgery of his every-day occu¬
pation — something he can enjoy while absent,
and look forward with pleasure to return to.
Ask your dealer for a list of the titles
in Burt's Popular Priced Fiction
In buying the books bearing the
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Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The. Frank L. Packard.
Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. A. Conan Doyle.
Affair at Flower Acres, The. Carolyn Wells.
Affinities and Other Stories. Mary Roberts Rinehart.
After House, The. Mary Roberts Rinehart.
Against the Winds. Kate Jordan.
Alcatraz. Max Brand.
Alias Richard Power. William Allison.
All the Way by Water. Elizabeth Stancy Payne.
Amateur Gentleman, The. Jeffery Farnol.
Amateur Inn, The. Albert Payson Terhune.
Anna the Adventu-ess. E. Phillips Oppenheim.
Anne’s House of Dreams. L. M. Montgomery.
Anybody But Anne. Carolyn Wells.
Are All Men Alike, and The Lost Titian. Arthur Stringer.
Around Old Chester. Margaret Deland.
Arrant Rover, The. Berta Ruck;
Athalie. Robert W. Chambers.
At the Mercy of Tiberius. Augusta Evans Wilson.
At Sight of Gold. Cynthia Lombardi.
Auction Block, The. Rex Beach.
Aunt Jane of Kentucky. Eliza C. Hall.
Awakening of Helena Ritchie. Margaret Deland.
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Bar 20. Clarence E. Mulford.
Bar 20 Days. Clarence E. Mulford.
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Broken Barriers. Meredith Nicholson.
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Calling of Dan Matthews, The. Harold Bell Wright,
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Cattle. Winnifred Eaton.
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Chief Legatee, The. Anna Katharine Green.
Cinema Murder, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.
City of Lilies, The. Anthony Pryde and R. K. Weehes.
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Clipped Wings. Rupert Hughes.
Clue of the New Pin, The. Edgar Wallace.
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Coming of Cassidy, The. Clarence E. Mulford.
Coming of the Law, The. Chas. A. Seltzer.
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Comrades of Peril. Randall Parrish.
Conquest of Canaan, The. Booth Tarkington.
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Date Due
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