A Likely Story

by William De Morgan

  CHAPTER IX

  Madeline's report, next morning. Charles Mathews and MadameVestria. How well Madeline held her tongue to keep herpromise. An anticipation of post-story time. How aDeputation waited on Mrs. Aiken from the Psychomorphic.Mr. MacAnimus and Mr. Vacaw. Gevartius much morecorrect for Miss Jessie to listen to than the Laughing Cavalier.Of Self-hypnosis and Ghosts, their respective categories.The mad cat's nose outside the blanket. SingularAutophrenetic experience of Mr. Aiken. Stenography. A casein point. Not a Phenomenon at all. How Miss Volumnia'spenetration penetrated, and got at something. Suggestiontraced home. Enough to explain any Phenomenon.

  "I'm afraid you _did_ get mixed up, darling, thistime. But I dare say they're all right." This wasLady Upwell's comment at breakfast next morning,when her daughter had completed a narrative ofher previous evening's adventure, which hadassumed, between the close of last chapter and theensuing midnight, all the character of a recklessescapade. Indeed, it had been long past that hourwhen the young lady, who had wired early in theevening that she was "dining with Aikens shall belate," returned home in better spirits than she hadshown for months--so her mother said to sympatheticfriends afterwards--to find her Pupsey gettinguneasy about her, and fidgetting. Because that wasPupsey's way.

  Madeline's parents at this time would probablyhave welcomed any diversion or excitement for thegirl; anything to take her mind away from hertroubles. They were not at all sure about theseAiken people; but there!--they would havewelcomed worse, to see this little daughter of theirsin such spirits as hers last night. Touching thecause of which they were a little puzzled, as she hadstuck loyally to her promise to tell nothing ofMrs. Aiken's dream and the share the Italian picturehad in her reconciliation with her husband. Allshe said was that she had persuaded Euphemia togo back to Reginald; she having, as it were,borrowed from each the name each called theother--in a certain sense, quoting it.

  "Euphemia, I suppose, is Mrs. Aiken?" said herladyship temperately--with a touch of graciousness,like Queens on the stage to their handmaidensCicely or Elspeth.

  "Euphemia 's Mrs. Aiken, but he calls her Mrs. Hayas often as not." Perplexity of both parentshere required a short explanation of middle-classjocularity turning on neglect or excess of aspirates.After which Madeline said, "That's all!" and theysaid, "We see," but with hesitation. Then shecontinued her story. "It was such fun! _I_ knockedat the door, and Reginald came rushing out becausehe heard Euphemia outside, and clasped me in hisarms ... Oh, well--it's quite true! You see, hewas in such a hurry he didn't stop to look, and hetook me for Euphemia." For the Baronet had laiddown his knife and fork and remained transfixed.But a telegraphic lip-movement of her ladyshipreassured him. "This," it said, "is exaggeration.Expect more of the same sort." However, hisdaughter softened the statement. "It wasn'texactly negotiated, you know. And I don't thinkit would have been any satisfaction either, becausehe was so horribly dirty, Reginald was."

  The Baronet completed a contract he had onhand with some kippered salmon, and said, beforeaccepting a new one, "Well--_you're_ a nice youngwoman!" But he added forgivingly, "Go on--gee-up!"

  The nice young woman went on. "And do youknow, I don't believe that a more filthy conditionthan that house was in--why, Mrs. Aiken had beenaway ten months! And there was a drunken cooksinging in the kitchen all the while."

  "You are an inconsecutive puss," said theBaronet, very happy about the puss nevertheless."You didn't finish your sentence. 'Filthycondition that house was in'--go on!"

  "Bother my sentence! Finish it yourself,Pupsey. Well--Reginald and Euphemia made itup like a shot. Couple of idiots! Then thequestion was--dinner. I said come home here, butthey said clothes. There was some truth in whatthey had on, so I said hadn't we better all go anddine where Mr. Aiken had been going. BecauseI didn't call him Reginald to his face, you know!"

  "And you went, I suppose?"

  "I should think so. We dined at Mezzofanti'sin Great Compton Street, Soho--no, it wasn't; itwas Magliabecchi's--no!--Machiavelli's. And Italked such good Italian to the waiter. It _was_ fun!And what do you think we did next? ... Give itup?" Her father nodded. "Why--we went to theAdelphi Theatre--there! And we saw 'Charley'sAunt,' and we parted intimate bosom friends. OnlyEuphemia is rather fussy and distant, compared toUs, and I had to stick out to make her kiss me." Aslight illustration served to show how the speakerhad driven a coach-and-six through thebosom-friend's shyness.

  "Well," said the Baronet. "All I can say is--Iwish I had been there with you. If I go to theplay now--there I am, dressed in toggery andsittin' in the stalls! Lord, I remember when I wasa young fellow, there was Charles Mathews andMadame Vestris ... you can't remember them...."

  "Of course I can't. I was only born nineteenyears ago." The Baronet, however, added morerecent theatrical experiences, but only brought onhimself corrections from his liege lady.

  "My dear, you're quite at sea. Fancy the childrecollecting Lord Dundreary and Buckstone! Why,she wasn't born or thought of!"

  But when this Baronet got on the subject of hisearly plays and operas, he developed reminiscencein its most aggravated form. He easily outclassedAunt Priscey on the subject of her ancestors. Herladyship abandoned him as incorrigible, without anapology, but his daughter indulged him and sat andlistened.

  All things come to an end sooner or later, andreminiscence did, later. Then poor Madeline randown in her spirits, and sat brooding over the warnews. It was only a temporary sprint. Reginaldand Euphemia vanished, and Jack came back.

  Madeline kept all this story of the talking photographto herself. To talk of it she would have hadto tell her friend's dream, and that she had promisednot to do.

  She was so loyal that when a day or two later shemet the formidable Miss Charlotte Bax, she kept astrict lock on her tongue, even when that ladyplunged into a resume of the dream-story as she hadreceived it, and an abstract of her commentary onit, still waiting delivery at the Psychomorphic.

  "I hoped we should meet at Mrs. LudersdorffPriestley's," said she, "because I wanted to talkabout it. Their teas are so stupid. EthelLudersdorff Priestley said you were coming."

  "Oh yes--that was the Unfulfilled Bun-Worry.Mrs. Aiken came in to see me, and I stayed." Then,as an afterthought, "I suppose you know they'vemade it up?"

  Admission that there was something unknown toher did not form part of Miss Charlotte's scheme oflife. She left the question open, saying merely,"In consequence of the advice I gave my cousin, nodoubt!" Madeline said nothing to contradict this--allthe more readily perhaps that she was not preparedto supply the real reason. She, however,could and did supply rough particulars of thereconciliation, giving Miss Charlotte more than her due ofcredit as its _vera causa_.

  That lady then proceeded to give details of herscientific conclusions about the phenomenon. Aportion of this may be repeated, as it had a gooddeal of effect in confirming her hearer's growingfaith in its genuineness. "What I rest myargument on," said Miss Charlotte, touching oneforefinger with the other, like Sir Macklin in the "BabBallads," "is the isolated character of thisphenomenon. Let the smallest confirmation of it beproduced by proof of the existence of analogousphenomena elsewhere, and then, although thatargument may not fall to the ground, it may benecessary to place it on an entirely new footing. Iwould suggest that, in order to sift the matter tothe bottom, a sub-committee should be appointed,charged with the duty of listening to authenticportraits to determine, if possible, whether anyother picture possesses this really almost incrediblefaculty of speech. The slightest whisper fromanother picture, well authenticated by a scientificauthority, would change the whole venue of thediscussion. Pending such a confirmation, we areforced to the conclusion that the subjectivity of thephenomenon is indisputable."

  At this point, Miss Upwell, who was really gettinganxious about _secondly_--which she was certain thespeaker would forget, while it was impossible for her,without loss of dignity, to draw one forefinger fromthe other--was greatly relieved wh
en thewithdrawal was made compulsory by the offer of asally-lunn, and the resumption of it became unnecessary,and even difficult. For this entertainment was notmerely a bun-worry, but--choosing a name atrandom--a sally-lunn sedative, or a tea-cake lullaby.

  It only enters for a moment into this story to showhow powerfully Miss Upwell's belief in the picture'spersonality had been reinforced before the time camefor Mr. Pelly to read Professor Schrudengesser'sFlorentine manuscript.

  Perhaps if Miss Volumnia had then been in aposition to lay before her friend the results of asubsequent interview with her cousin, in which she elicitedsome most important facts, this belief might atleast have been suspended, and Miss Upwell'sattitude towards the pardonable scepticisms of herfather and Mr. Pelly might have been lessdisrespectful. But as a matter of fact Miss Volumniaonly came to the knowledge of these facts monthslater, when she called upon Mrs. Reginald Aikenwith the Secretary, Mr. MacAnimus, and Mr. Vacaw,the Chairman of the Psychomorphic; the threeconstituting a Deputation from the Society, whichwas anxious for repetition and confirmation of thestory before appointing a sub-committee to listento well-painted pictures. This interview may begiven here, for the sake of those curious in Psychologicalstudy, but its place in the succession of eventsshould be borne in mind. It is really a piece ofinartistic anticipation.

  "We shouldn't come pestering you like this,Cousin Euphemia," said Miss Volumnia, after introducingthe Deputation, "if it had not been that wehave so much trouble in getting volunteers toguarantee the amount of listening which we considerhas to be gone through before the negativeconclusion, that pictures cannot talk, is accepted aspractically established. My sister Jessie hasundertaken to listen to any picture at the NationalGallery the sub-committee may select, providedthat either Mr. Duodecimus Groob or CharleyGalsworthy accompanies her, and listens too. I cansee no objection to this, but I prefer that theyshould listen to Gevartius. I think it perhapsbetter that so young a girl should not hear whatthe Laughing Cavalier, Franz Hals, is likely to say.Or Charley Galsworthy either, for that matter.Mr. Duodecimus Groob is a graduate of theUniversity of London...."

  Mr. Reginald Aiken, who was present at thisinterview, looked up from his easel, at which he wasretouching a sketch of no importance, to say thathe knew this Mr. Groob, who was an awful ass; buthis brother Dolly was quite another pair of shoes,of whom the World would soon hear more. Theinterruption was rude and discourteous, andMrs. Aiken was obliged to explain to the Deputationthat it was quite unnecessary to pay any attentionto it. Her husband was always like that. Hismanners were atrocious, but his heart was good.As for Mr. Adolphus Groob, he was insufferable.

  "Shall we proceed to business?" said Mr. MacAnimus,a piercing man, who let nobody off."I will, with your permission, run throughMrs. Reginald Aiken's deposition...."

  "I never made any deposition," said that lady.

  "My dear Euphemia," said her cousin. "Ifyou wish to withdraw from the statement you madeto me..."

  "Rubbish, Volumnia! I certainly don'twithdraw from anything whatever. Still less have Iany intention of making any depositions. If weare to be beset with depositions in everyday life, Ithink we ought at least to be consulted in thematter. Depositions, indeed!"

  Mr. Vacaw interposed to make peace. "Weneed not," he said, "quarrel about terms." Hefor his part would be perfectly content that theparticulars so kindly furnished by Mrs. Aiken shouldbe referred to in whatever way was mostsatisfactory to that lady herself. He appeared toaddress Mr. MacAnimus with diffidence, almostamounting to humility, approaching him withsomewhat of the caution which might be shown bya person who had undertaken to encumber a madcat with a blanket so as to neutralise its powers oftooth and claw. Mr. MacAnimus conceded thepoint under protest; and Mrs. Aiken then, whowas not disobliging, consented to repeat her dreamexperience, each point being checked off againstthe formulated report of her first statement,transmitted to the Society by Miss Volumnia. It iscreditable to that lady's accuracy that very fewcorrections were necessary, especially as the firstnarrator seemed in a certain sense handicapped bydoubts as to what the exact words used were,though always sure of their meaning. Had Mrs. Aikenunderstood any Italian, mixed speech on thepicture's part might have accounted for this. Asit was, an undeniable vagueness helped MissVolumnia's classification of the incident as a caseof Self-hypnosis. That the Deputation wasunanimous on this point was soon evident.

  It was then that an incident came to light that,at least in the opinion of Miss Volumnia, went farto establish this classification beyond a shadow ofdoubt.

  Mr. Reginald, who had been at no pains to concealhis derision of the whole proceeding, allowedthis spirit of ridicule, so hostile to the prosecutionof Scientific Investigation, to master him socompletely that he quite forgot the respect he owed tohis visitors, and indeed to his wife, for she at leastdeserved the credit which is due to sincerity, evenif mistaken. He shouted with laughter, sayingdid anyone ever hear such glorious Rot? Atalking picture--only fancy! Why, you might as wellput down anything you heard in your ears to anypicture on the walls. One the same as another.Of course everyone knew that Euphemia was asfull of fancies as an egg is full of meat. Just youleave her alone for a few minutes in a dark room,or a burying-ground, and see if she didn't see a ghost!

  "That's _quite_ another thing," said Miss Volumniaand Mr. MacAnimus simultaneously. And Mr. Vacawadded, as pacific confirmation, "Surely--surely!Ghosts belong to an entirely differentcategory." A feeling that Ghosts could not becoped with so near lunch may have caused animpulse towards peroration. It was not, however,to fructify yet, for Mr. MacAnimus appealed for amoment's hearing.

  "With your leave, sir," said he, addressingMr. Vacaw as if he was The Speaker, "I should like toput a question to this gentleman," meaningMr. Aiken. Mr. Vacaw may be considered to haveallowed the mad cat's nose outside the blanket, onsufferance.

  Then Mr. MacAnimus, producing a memorandum-bookto take down the witness's words, asked thisquestion: "What did Mr. Aiken mean by theexpression, 'anything heard in your ears'?"

  But the witness was one of those people whobecome diffuse the moment they are expected toanswer a question. His testimony ran as follows,tumbling down and picking itself up again as itdid so. "Oh, don't you know the sort of thing Imean; a sort of tickle--nothing you can exactlylay hold of--not what you think you hearwhen it's there--comes out after--p'r'apsyour sort don't--it goes with the party--there'sparties and parties--if you don't make it outwithout a description, it's not in your line--you'renot in the swim."

  The members of the Deputation looked at eachother inquiringly, and each shook a negative head,as disclaiming knowledge of this peculiarphenomenon. They were not in the swim, but could allsay, and did, that this was very interesting.

  Mr. MacAnimus struck in with perspicuity anddecision: "Allow me. Will Mr. Aiken favour uswith a case in point? Such a case would enablethe Society to ascertain whether this phenomenonis known to any of its members." He concentratedhis faculties to shorthand point, holding afountain-pen in readiness to pounce on a cleanmemorandum page, virgin but for [shorthand characters], orsomething like it, which meant, "Singularautophrenetic experience of Mr. Reginald Aikencommunicated direct to Society at hisresidence." Stenography is a wonderful science.

  Mr. Aiken complied readily. "Any number ofcases in point! Why, only the other day therewas Stumpy Hughes, sitting on that very chairyou're in now, heard a voice say something inItalian, or French. What's more, I heard it too,and thought it was Mrs. Gapp in liquor--in moreliquor than usual. I told you all about that,Mrs. Hay." Mrs. Gapp, when the mistress of the housereturned, had followed in the footsteps of Sairahand Mrs. Parples.

  Mrs. Euphemia suddenly assumed an air ofmystery. "Oh yes," said she. "You told me allabout _that_. _I_ understood."

  "Didn't I tell you?" said her husband, appealingto the company. "Didn't I tell you females mightbe relied on to cook up somethin' out of nothin' atall?" He had done nothing of the sort, and merelychose this form of speech to fi
ll out his share in theconversation.

  His wife was indignant. "I don't know," shesaid, "what nonsensical imputations you may havebeen casting on women, who, at any rate, areusually every bit as clever as you and your friends.But I do know this, because you told me, that whenthat happened you were both close to the _exactduplicate_ of the very photograph you are nowaccusing me of credulity with, and it's ridiculous--simplyridiculous. And it's off the selfsame negative.You know it is."

  Mr. Vacaw deprecated impatience. A new avenueof inquiry might be opened up as a consequenceof this experience of Mr. Aiken's, provided alwaysthat we did not lose our heads, and allow ourselvesto be misled by an _ignis fatuus_ of controversy intoa wilderness of recrimination. Mr. Vacaw's styledrew freely on the vast resources of metaphor inwhich the English language abounds.

  Mr. Aiken followed his example so far as to saythat he couldn't see any use in flaring up, and thatif hair and teeth were flying all over the shop, achap couldn't hear himself speak. As for theidentity of the photographs, he wouldn't havementioned Stumpy's little joke about where thevoice came from if he had thought his wife wasgoing to turn it into a Spirit Manifestation andDavenport Brothers. He saw no use in such rot.This was only an idea, and had nothingsupernatural about it.

  Mr. Hughes's little joke, whatever it was, did notreach the ears of the story at the time of writing--youcan turn back and see--but Mr. Aiken heardand remembered it, and had evidently repeated itto his wife, who had been comparing notes upon it.Her indignation increased, and she would certainlyhave taken her husband severely to task for hislevity and unreason, if it had not been for thesudden animation with which Miss Volumnia criedout, "Aha!" as though illuminated by a new idea.She also pointed an extended finger at Mr. Aiken,as it were transfixing him. At the same momentMr. MacAnimus exclaimed resolutely:

  "Yes--stop it at that! 'Identity of thephotographs.' Now, Miss Bax, if you please!"

  Miss Volumnia accepted what may be called theOffice of Chief Catechist, and proceeded on theassumption usual in Investigation, that she wasexamining an unwilling witness with a stronginherent love of falsehood for its own sake.

  "You admit then, cousin Reginald, that on thisoccasion a suggestion was made that the voice camefrom this photograph?"

  Mr. MacAnimus nodded rapidly, and said, "Yes--keephim to that!" and conferred a momentapart with Mr. Vacaw, who murmured:

  "Yes, yes--I see your point. Quite correct!"

  "It was Stumpy's little joke!" said Mr. Aiken."Not a Phenomenon at all! You'll make anythin'out of anythin'. I shall tell Stumpy, and he'llsplit his sides laughin' at you."

  "Pray do, cousin Reginald. Only let me askyou this one question--what was the exact date ofthis occurrence?" Miss Volumnia had abated thepointed finger, but not quite suppressed it. Hercolleagues nodded knowingly to each other and eachsaid, "You'll see we shall see."

  Mr. Aiken's answer was vague. "A tidy longwhile ago," said he. "Couldn't say how long. AfterStumpy came back from Aunt Jopiska's, anyhow."

  "When was that?"

  "Three or four months ago. More! No--less!Stop a bit. I know what'll fix it. Thatreceipt. Where the dooce is it?" Mr. Aiken hada paroxysm of turning miscellanea over.

  "What is it you are looking for, Reginald?"paid his wife forbearingly. "If you would tell mewhat it is. I could find it for you, without throwingeverything into confusion. Why can you not bepatient and methodical? What is it?"

  "Receipt for Rates and Taxes--oh, here it is--seventhof November--that fixes the time. It wasthe day before that." And then Mr. Aiken, in thepride of his heart at the subtlety of his identificationof this date, dwelt upon the subject more thanwas absolutely necessary. It was because he hadtalked--didn't you see?--to a feller who hadsketched a plan of the new rooms in Bond Streeton the back of this very identical receipt--didn'tyou know?--telling him of Stumpy and the hearingthe voice, the day before--didn't you see?--sothat fixed the date to a nicety. And the feller wasa very sensible clever penetratin' sort offeller--didn't you see?--and had made some very shrewdremarks about starts of this sort.

  "And who was this intelligent gentleman?"asked Mrs. Aiken, not entirely without superiority,but still with forbearance.

  "Not a man you know much of. Remarkablesort of chap, though!"

  "Yes--but who _was_ he? That's what _I_ wantto know."

  "Don't see that it matters.... Well--DollyGroob, then."

  "Mis-ter Adolphus Groob...." Mrs. Aiken wasbeginning, and was going to follow up what herintonation made a half-expression of contempt, bya comment which would have expressed a wholeone. Was it Mr. Adolphus Groob all the fuss wasabout?

  But she came short of her intention, beinginterrupted by Miss Volumnia, whose "Aha!" threwher previous delivery of the same interjection intothe shade. "_Now_ we are getting at something!"cried that young lady triumphantly.

  "Well, what does that mean?" said Mrs. Euphemiascornfully. "Getting at something!Getting at what?"

  "My dear Euphemia," said her cousin, withtemperate self-command--she was always irritating,and meant to be--"I ask you, can youconscientiously deny that Mr. Adolphus Groob sat nextyou at Mr. Entwistle Parkins's lecture, at theSuburbiton Athenaeum, on the Radio-Activity of Space?"

  "Well, and what if he did?"

  "We will come to that directly, when you haveanswered my questions. Can you deny thatMr. Entwistle Parkins's lecture on the Radio-Activityof Space was delivered at least a week after yourhusband had communicated to Mr. AdolphusGroob the very curious experience he has justrelated?"

  "And what if he did....?"

  "One moment--excuse me.... Or that yourown very singular--I admit thesingularity--Pseudo-dream or self-induced Hypnotism was_subsequent_ to this lecture?"

  "It was in January. What if it was?"

  Miss Volumnia turned with an air of subduedtriumph to the other members of the Deputation."I appeal to you, Mr. Vacaw--to you, Mr. MacAnimus.Is, or is not, the conclusion warrantedthat this Pseudo-dream, as I must call it, had itsorigin by Suggestion from the analogous experienceof Mr. Aiken, who had by his own showing narratedit to Mr. Adolphus Groob?"

  "But Mr. Adolphus Groob never said a singleword to me about it. So _there_!" Thus Mrs. Aikenwith emphasis so distributed as to make herspeech almost truculent.

  Miss Volumnia's reply was cold and firm. "Youadmit, cousin Euphemia, that Mr. Adolphus Groobsat next to you throughout that lecture?"

  "Certainly. What of that?"

  "Are you prepared to make oath that no partof your conversation turned on Psychic subjects?"

  "He talked a great deal of nonsense, if that'swhat you mean, and said we were on the brink ofgreat discoveries. But I won't talk to you if yougo on about being prepared to make oath, like awitness-box."

  Mr. Aiken, perhaps with a mistaken idea ofaverting heated controversy, interposed saying:"Cert'nly Dolly Groob did say he'd met the missusat a beastly place that stunk of gas out Coombeway, and that she conversed very intelligibly--no,intelligently--on subjects...."

  Miss Volumnia interrupted, although the speakerhad to all seeming scarcely finished his sentence."That is tantamount," she said, "to an admissionthat they had been talking on subjects. Whatsubjects?"

  "Sort of subjects they were talkin' on, I s'pose,"said he evasively.

  "Very well, Reginald," said his wife indignantly."If you are going over to their side, I give up, andI shan't talk at all." And she held to this resolution,which tended to put an end to the conversation,until the Deputation took its leave, shakingits heads and making dubious sounds within itsclosed lips. We were on very insecure ground, andthings had very doubtful complexions, and all thatsort of thing.

  "What a parcel of fools they were," said thelady when they had departed, "not to ask aboutwhat the old gentleman dreamed at Madeline's!" Thatwas first hand from the original picture. "Ireally do think one cannot depend on photographs."

  "Must make a difference, I should say. Don'tpretend to understand the subject." Thus theArtist
, absorbed again in retouching the sketch ofno importance. And do you know, he seemedrather to make a parade of his indifference. Inwhich he was very like people one meets atManifestations, only scarcely so bad. For a many ofthem, face to face with what they are pretendingto think their own _post mortem_, remain unimpressed,and cut jokes. Then, of course, we have to rememberthat it is usually a paid Medium--that may makea difference.

  We think, however, it is safe to say that had MissVolumnia, when she conversed with Miss Upwell atthe second, or fulfilled, Bun-Worry, been inpossession of the facts elicited at this interview, shemight have detailed them so as to induce in thatyoung lady's mind a more lenient attitude towardsthe incredulity of her father and Mr. Pelly aboutthe picture. As it was--and it is very necessaryto bear this in mind in reading what remains to betold--this interview had not then taken place, anddid not in fact come about till nearly two monthslater, when the compiling of the Society's QuarterlyReport made the adoption of a definite attitudetowards the Picture Story necessary.