Chapter IX

.' It's most extraordinary, indeed! Now for the number of my watch. Do you know, I didn't even know these answers myself. That would tend to prove it's not mere telepathy, wouldn't it?"

He took out his watch and opened the back covers. Upon the frame were engraved the figures "801,101."

"That's correct, too. Now for the last one--have you a telephone?"

"Right down at the end of the hall."

"If you'll excuse me a moment I'll ring up a friend of mine who will know whether this is the right name or not."

In five minutes he returned with an expression of wonder upon his face. "I wanted to make sure that this couldn't be got from my mind, so I asked a friend of mine to select a name for me. It seems that Marigold was the name. This is a most wonderful and convincing test, Mr. Vixley; I must say that I'm amazed."

The Professor took his praise modestly. "Oh, I hope to do much better for you than this after a while, Mr. Payson. The main point is, that now we can get to work in such a way as to help you practically, without wastin' your time on mere experiments. These test conditions is very apt to deteriorate mediumship and I don't like to do no more of it than is absolutely necessary to convince you of the genuineness of my manifestations.

"Now," he added, "before we draw down the shades again, you write down some important question you want answered and we'll get down to business."

When Mr. Payson had finished writing, the medium, taking a slip of paper from his vest pocket unobserved, held it under the table, saying:

"Now you fold it twice, each time in half." As Payson did so, Vixley folded his own slip in a similar manner and held it palmed in his left hand. After drawing the shades, he said: "Now, then, will you please hold that paper to your forehead? Not like that--here, let me show you."

He took the slip from Mr. Payson and dexterously substituting for it his own duplicate, held it to his own forehead. "This way, so that it will be in plain sight all the time." He gave the blank slip to his sitter, who obeyed the directions.

"I think we'll do better if there's less light," Vixley said, as he arose to draw the shades. "You keep hold of that paper. I don't want it to go out of your possession for a moment. You see I couldn't read it even if I had it, it's so dark. But if you'll excuse me, I'll light this cigar; I haven't had a smoke all day."

As he spoke, he went to the bookcase, and standing, facing Mr. Payson, he took a match from a box on the top and lighted the cigar which was between his teeth. His left hand, which had already secretly unfolded the ballot, covered the paper. He put it up with a natural gesture to keep the match from being blown out as he lighted his cigar. The operation took only a few seconds, but in that time, illuminated by the match, he was able to read the words: "Will my book be a success?" He dropped his hand, refolded the ballot with his fingers and held it hidden. Then he took two slates from the pile.

There are many well-known ways of slate-writing, and the sleight-of-hand necessary in obtaining the ballots and writing the answers is simple compared with the sort of psychological juggling in which the medium must be an adept. Professor Vixley, however, had no need of any special craft with the old man. Mr. Payson was by no means a skilled observer, and, credulous and desirous of a marvel, was easily hoodwinked by Vixley's talk. The simplest methods sufficed, and he worked with increasing confidence, preparing his sitter's mind, till it would be possible for the medium merely to sit at the table and write openly under the supposititious influence of his control.

The second experiment terminated with the appearance of the message that Flora Flint had read in the front room, the message signed "Felicia."

Mr. Payson read the communication with a frown. "That's bad," he said, "I'm very sorry to find that this answer isn't favorable."

"What's the matter?" the Professor asked sympathetically.

"Well, you see, I may as well tell you that I'm writing a book, Professor," said Mr. Payson, wiping his spectacles, "and, of course, I am anxious that it should be a success. It seems from this that there is likely to be some trouble about it--I don't quite understand how."

Vixley tipped back in his chair with his hands in his pockets. "I thought you looked like an intellectual-minded man. O' course, it wan't my place to ask no questions, but when you come in I sized you up as a party who wan't entirely devoted to a pure business life. So you've written a book, eh? Well, I'm sure my control could help you. I'll ask him, and see what's to be done. But for that, I think we'll be more liable to be successful at automatic writin' than by independent slate-writin'. It's more quicker and satisfactory all round."

"How do you suppose the spirits can help?" said Mr. Payson.

"Why," said Vixley, "all sorts o' ways. It's like this: I don't know nothing about your book, but I do know what's happened before. Take Gibbon's _Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_, for instance. He predicted that there wouldn't never be no more wars--he claimed we'd outlived the possibility of it, and everything would be settled peaceably. What happened? Why, Napoleon arose inside o' fifty years and they was wars like never had been seen on earth. Now, if Gibbon had only been able to put himself in communication with the spirit intelligence, he wouldn't have made that mistake--the spirits would have told him what was goin' to happen. Look at Voltaire! He went on record by sayin' that in fifty years they wouldn't be no more churches. Now he's a ridicule and a by-word amongst Christian people. If he'd only consulted the spirit-plane he wouldn't have made a fool of hisself. But, o' course, spiritualism wan't heard of then no more than Voltaire's heard of now. Now let's say, for example, you was writin' a book on evolution ten years ago, thoroughly believin' in Darwin's theory o' the origin of species. Up to that time nobody believed that a new specie had been evolved since man. But look at this here Burbank up to Santa Rosa--he has gone to work and produced some absolutely new species, and what's more, I predicted his success in this very room ten years ago. If you'd written on evolution then, you might have taken advantage o' what I could have gave you. Now, for all I know, some man may come along and breed two different animals together, p'raps through vivisection or what not, and develop a bran' new kind of specie in the animal world. Heart disease and cancer and consumption are supposed by modern science to be incurable, but I wouldn't venture to write that down in a book till I had taken the means at my disposal o' findin' out whether they was or wasn't."

He arose and let up the window-shades; the level rays of the sunshine illuminated his figure and burnished his purpling coat. He shook his finger at Mr. Payson, who was listening open-mouthed, impressed with the glib argument.

"Now, my control is Theodore Parker. You've heard of him--p'raps you knew him. You wouldn't hesitate to ask his advice if he was still on the flesh plane, for he was a brainy man; how much more, now he's passed out and gone beyond, into a fuller development and comprehension of the universe! I don't know what your subject is, but whatever it is, he can help and he will help. I'm sure o' that. It's for you to say whether you'll avail yourself of his guidance or not. I can give you all the tests you want, but I tell you, you're only wastin' your time, while you might be in daily communication with one of the grandest minds this country and this century has produced. I can get into communication with him and give you his messages by means of automatic writin', or I can develop you so's you can do it yourself."

Professor Vixley's victim had ceased to struggle, and, caught inextricably in the web so artfully woven, gazed, fascinated, into the eyes of the spider who was preparing to suck his golden blood.

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