Part 19 (1/2)
”You need not be frightened,” she answered. For the man before her and for herself, her voice was bitter with contempt and self-accusation.
”Mr. Winthrop is mistaken. He does not know me,” she said miserably. ”I shall not fail.”
For a moment, after she had left him, Gaylor stood motionless, his eyes filled with concern, and then, with a shrug, as though accepting either good or evil fortune, he called from the bedroom Mr. Hallowell, and, from the floor below, the guests of Hallowell and of Vance.
As Hallowell, supported by Rainey, sank into the invalid's chair in the centre of the semicircle, Gaylor made his final appeal.
”Stephen,” he begged, ”are you sure you're feeling strong enough? Won't some other night--” The old man interrupted him querulously.
”No, now! I want it over,” he commanded. ”Who knows,” he complained, ”how soon it may be before--”
The sight of Mannie entering the room with Vance caused him to interrupt himself abruptly. He greeted the showman with a curt nod.
”And who is this?” he demanded. Mannie, to whom a living millionaire was much more of a disturbing spectacle than the ghost of Alexander the Great, retreated hastily behind Vance.
”He is my a.s.sistant,” Vance explained. ”He furnishes the music.” He pushed Mannie toward the organ.
”Music!” growled Hallowell. ”Must there be music?”
”It is indispensable,” protested Vance. ”Music, sir, is one of the strongest psychic influences. It--”
”Nonsense!” cried Hallowell.
”Tricks,” he muttered, ”tricks!”
Vance shrugged his shoulders, and smiled in deprecation. ”I am sorry to find you in a skeptical mood, Mr. Hallowell,” he murmured reprovingly ”It will hardly help to produce good results. Allow me,” he begged, ”to present two true believers.”
With a wave of the hand he beckoned forward a stout, gray-haired woman with bulging, near-sighted eyes that rolled meaninglessly behind heavy gold spectacles.
”Mrs. Marsh of Lynn, Ma.s.sachusetts,” proclaimed Vance, ”of whom you have heard. Mrs. Marsh,” he added, ”is probably the first medium in America.
The results she has obtained are quite wonderful. She alone foretold the San Francisco earthquake, and the run on the Long Acre Square Bank.”
”I am glad to know you,” said Mr. Hallowell. ”Pardon my not rising.”
The old lady curtsied obsequiously.
”Oh, certainly, Mr. Hallowell,” she protested. ”Mr. Hallowell,” she went on, rolling the name delightedly on her tongue, ”I need not tell you how greatly we spiritualists rejoice over your joining the ranks of the believers.”
Hallowell nodded. He was not altogether unimpressed. ”Thanks,” he commented dryly. ”But I am not quite there yet, madam.”
”We hope,” said Vance sententiously, ”to convince Mr. Hallowell tonight.”
”And I am sure, Mr. Hallowell,” cried the old lady, ”if any one can do it, little Miss Vera can. Hers is a wonderful gift, sir, a wonderful gift!”
”I am glad to hear you say so,” returned Hallowell.
He nodded to her in dismissal, and turned to the next visitor. ”And this gentleman?” he asked.
”Professor Strombergk,” announced Vance, ”the distinguished writer on psychic and occult subjects, editor of The World Beyond.”
A tall, full-bearded German, in a too-short frock coat, bowed awkwardly.
Upon him, as upon Mannie, had fallen the spell of the Hallowell fortune.