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 husband, was glaring up at his assailant. There was a 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 remark, is the famous football player of that name, for the prompt way in which he has carried out his instructions.”
“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 ii 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 phenomenon.”
Challenger laughed.
“Yes, sir, a very real phenomenon. You have seen a transfiguration which is the half-way state of materialisation. 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 prejudice 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 innocent 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 Challenger 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 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 outstretched:
“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.
“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 cremated. She knock and he hear her knocking, but not understand.”
“Does this mean anything to you, Professor Challenger?”
His great eyebrows were bunched over his suspicious, 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.”
“Does that mean anything to you?”
Challenger staggered. A look of absolute wonder had come upon his face.
“What 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 message 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 nervousness 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?”
“Ye
s.”
“The message that men want me 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 quivering with his emotion.
“They die disease.”
“What disease?”
“New — new . . . What that? . . . Pneumonia.”
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 explanation 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 scepticism, but you have to-day offered me some incontrovertible evidence.”
“We all go through the same experience, Professor. 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 position 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.”
“All right, dear. We will talk of that later. Come home with me now. I have much to think over. Perhaps 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 armchair 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 cannot 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 proclaim my opinions when they are formed, but the time has not yet come. However, I have received two 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, inconceivable, grotesquely wonderful — but it would seem to be true.”
“Crookes used almost those very words,” said Malone. He wrote that it was all ‘perfectly impossible 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 telepathy, 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 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 always 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.”
17. 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 bottle 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 pitch blend, were all moneymakers. Enraged by the attitude of Cornelius, the Professor placed the management of all these in the hands of his prospective son-in-law, who diligently guarded his interests.
Challenger had himself altered. His colleagues, and those about him, observed the change without clearly perceiving the cause. He was gentler, humbler, 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 unscientific 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 wonderful literature of the subject, and as, without the prejudice 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 remarkable article in the Spectator began, “The obtuse incredulity 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 transcended in our own days by those noisy controversialists, 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 opponents “ 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 condoned in the case of those who are in opposition. So we may leave Challenger, his black mane slowly turning to grey, but his great brain growing ever stronger and more virile as it faces 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 stretches away into the infinite possibilities and developments 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 ceremony, 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 warrior, 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 Bolsover with several of the Hammersmith circle, and Tom Linden with his wife, and Smith, the fighting bulldog from the north, and Dr. Atkinson, and Marvin 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?
Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated) Page 249