The Necromancers Part 25

"Of course you did; but how do you know you weren't hypnotized?"

Laurie sat down suddenly, unconscious that he had done so. The medium put out his hand for his pipe once more.

"Now, I'm going to be quite honest," he said. "I have quite a quant.i.ty of comments to make on that. First, it doesn't prove anything whatever, even if it really happened--"

"Even if it--!"

"Certainly.... Oh, yes; I saw it too; and there's the pencil on the floor"--he stooped and picked it up.

"But what if we were both hypnotized--both acted upon by self-suggestion? We can't prove we weren't."

Laurie was dumb.

"Secondly, it doesn't prove anything, in any case, as regards the other matters we were speaking of. It only shows--if it really happened, as I say--that the mind has extraordinary control over matter. It hasn't anything to do with immortality, or--or spiritualism."

"Then why did you do it?" gasped the boy.

"Merely fireworks ... only to show off. People are convinced by such queer things."

Laurie sat regarding, still with an unusual pallor in his face and brightness in his eyes. He could not in the last degree put into words why it was that the tiny incident of the pencil affected him so profoundly. Vaguely, only, he perceived that it was all connected somehow with the ordinariness of the accessories, and more impressive therefore than all the paraphernalia of planchette, spinning mirrors, or even his own dreams.

He stood up again suddenly.

"It's no good, Mr. Vincent," he said, putting out his hand, "I'm knocked over. I can't imagine why. It's no use talking now. I must think. Good night."

"Good night, Mr. Baxter," said the medium serenely.

_Chapter VIII_

I

"Her ladyship told me to show you in here, sir," said the footman at half-past eight on Sunday evening.

Laurie put down his hat, slipped off his coat, and went into the dining room.

The table was still littered with dessert-plates and napkins. Two people had dined there he observed. He went round to the fire, wondering vaguely as to why he had not been shown upstairs, and stood, warming his hands behind him, and looking at the pleasant gloom of the high picture-hung walls.

In spite of himself he felt slightly more excited than he had thought he would be; it was one thing to be philosophical at a prospect of three days' distance; and another when the gates of death actually rise in sight. He wondered in what mood he would see his own rooms again. Then he yawned slightly--and was a little pleased that it was natural to yawn.

There was a rustle outside; the door opened, and Lady Laura slipped in.

"Forgive me, Mr. Baxter," she said. "I wanted to have just a word with you first. Please sit down a moment."

She seemed a little anxious and upset, thought Laurie, as he sat down and looked at her in her evening dress with the emblematic chain more apparent than ever. Her frizzed hair sat as usual on the top of her head, and her pince-nez glimmered at him across the hearthrug like the eyes of a cat.

"It is this," she said hurriedly. "I felt I must just speak to you. I wasn't sure whether you quite realized the ... the dangers of all this. I didn't want you to ... to run any risks in my house. I should feel responsible, you know."

She laughed nervously.

"Risks? Would you mind explaining?" said Laurie.

"There ... there are always risks, you know."

"What sort?"

"Oh ... you know ... nerves, and so on. I ... I have seen people very much upset at _seances_, more than once."

Laurie smiled.

"I don't think you need be afraid, Lady Laura. It's awfully kind of you; but, do you know, I'm ashamed to say that, if anything, I'm rather bored."

The pince-nez gleamed.

"But--but don't you believe it? I thought Mr. Vincent said--"

"Oh yes, I believe it; but, you know, it seems to me so natural now.

Even if nothing happens tonight, I don't think I shall believe it any the less."

She was silent an instant.

"You know there are other risks," she said suddenly.

"What? Are things thrown about?"

"Please don't laugh at it, Mr. Baxter. I am quite serious."

"Well--what kind do you mean?"

Again she paused.

"It's very awful," she said; "but, you know, people's nerves do break down entirely sometimes, even though they're not in the least afraid. I saw a case once--"

She stopped.

"Yes?"

"It--it was a very awful case. A girl--a sensitive--broke down altogether under the strain. She's in an asylum."

"I don't think that's likely for me," said Laurie, with a touch of humor in his voice. "And, after all, you run these risks, don't you--and Mrs. Stapleton?"

"Yes; but you see we're not sensitives. And even I--"

"Yes?"

"Well, even I feel sometimes rather overcome.... Mr. Baxter, do you quite realize what it all means?"