Part 72 (2/2)

Captain Hallett had been very quiet, particularly since the Florabel message was tangled in transit. Martha could see his s.h.a.ggy head in silhouette against the dim light of the lamp and had noticed that that head scarcely moved. The light keeper seemed to be watching the medium very intently. Now he spoke.

”Yes?” he said, as if awakened from sleep. ”Yes, here I am. What is it?”

”Jethro,” cried the control once more. ”Jethro, somebodee come speakee to you.... Julia! Julia!”

Captain Jethro rose from his chair. The loved name had as always an instant effect. His heavy voice shook as he answered.

”Yes, yes, Julia,” he cried. ”Here I am, Julia, waitin'--waitin'.”

It was pathetic, pitiful. One listener in that circle felt, in spite of his own misery, a pang of remorse and a little dread. After all, perhaps it would have been better to--

”Julia,” cried the light keeper. ”Speak to me. I'm waitin'.”

The foghorn boomed just here, but even after the sound had subdued Little Cherry Blossom seemed to find it difficult to proceed. She--or the medium--choked, swallowed, and then said:

”Julia got message. Yes, indeedee. Important message, she sayee, for Jethro. Jethro must do what she sayee.”

The captain's big head nodded vigorously. Martha could see it move, a tousled shadow against the light.

”Yes, yes, Julia, of course,” he said. ”I always do what you say. You know I do. Go on.”

”Father!” It was Lulie's voice, raised in anxious protest. ”Father, please.”

Her father sharply ordered her to be quiet.

”Go on, Julia,” he persisted. ”Tell me what you want me to do.”

Again Little Cherry Blossom seemed to have difficulty in articulating.

There was a quaver in her voice when she did speak.

”Julia say,” she faltered; ”Julia sayee 'Jethro, you sell R.P.'”

This was unexpected. It was not at all the message the group of listeners, with one exception, had antic.i.p.ated. There was no hint of Nelson Howard here. They did not know what to make of it. Nor, it was evident, did Jethro Hallett.

”What?” he demanded. ”What, Julia? I don't understand.”

Little Cherry Blossom cleared her--or the medium's--throat and falteringly went on.

”Julia sayee 'Jethro, you sell R. P. what you got.' Sellee him what you got, what he want buyee. You know. You sellee R. P. the stock.”

But still it was clear that Captain Jeth did not understand.

”Sell R. P.?” he repeated. ”R. P. Who's R. P.? And what... Eh? Do you mean--”

He paused. When he next spoke his tone was quite different. There was a deeper note in it, almost a note of menace.

”R. P.?” he said again. ”Does 'R. P.' mean--is that supposed to stand for Horatio Pulcifer? Eh? Does 'R. P.' mean Raish Pulcifer?”

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