CHAPTER XVII

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*THE MATERIALIZING SEANCE*

FLORA FLINT'S Marvelous Spirit Messages and Grand Materializing Test Seance To-night. 50c. 5203 Van Ness Ave. Come, Skeptics.

Dougal pointed to this notice in the _Call_ one night at Fulda's. There were six at table; he and Mabel and Elsie, Maxim, Starr and Benton.

Benton took up the paper, with a gleam in his eyes, as one who smelled the battle from afar. Starr was for going, most enthusiastically for it; he wanted another chance of seeing Benton in action. Maxim was always to be depended upon; he never refused to go with the others. Elsie smiled and did not commit herself to an opinion. She was a fatalist. If things went well, she smiled. If they went wrong, she was equally, perhaps even a little more, amused, and smiled as enigmatically. Mabel giggled hysterically; her eyes shone; she held up two fingers, the sign of acquiescence. No project was too mad for her to accept and welcome; the madder it was, the more enthusiastic she grew. In her the spirit of adventure still breathed. She was one to whom things always happened, for she never refused Fate's invitations. Fate, having invited her, usually saw her through the affair with gallantry. She always escaped unscathed, preserving all the freshness of her enthusiasm and ingenuousness. No one credited her with a history.

Their plan had been talked over and perfected for some time. Mindful of Fancy's warning, it had been decided to enter the place in two groups and find seats near together, being careful to hold no communication with each other.

Dougal was captain of the proposed exposure. He carried an electric torch and was to choose the proper moment for attack. When he flashed the light upon the spirit form and rushed forward to seize the actor, Maxim was to follow at his heels and help, while Starr and Benton "interfered" for him as in a foot-ball game. The girls were to take care of themselves and watch everything that went on so as to report the affair.

There was no adjournment to Champoreau's that night, for it was necessary to be at Flora Flint's early and attempt to get front seats. Half-past seven found them at the house on Van Ness Avenue, where they divided, Mabel going in with Dougal and Maxim, Elsie with Starr and Benton.

They went up a narrow staircase covered with yellow oil-cloth and encountered, at the top, a long, pale, tow-headed youth with two front teeth missing. He was slouching in the hall, by a little table, as if attempting to hide the tallness and awkwardness of his figure. Collecting the entrance fees without a word, he pointed to a door and the seats inside.

The room was square, and had two windows upon the street; it was lighted dimly from a chandelier in the center, and was crowded with chairs arranged on each side of a central aisle. There were already a score of visitors, and prominent in the second row was Mr. Payson, solemnly calm, impassive, his hands upon the top of his cane. Vixley sat in front and was conversing over the back of his chair with Lulu Ellis. Dougal and his companions found seats on the end of the fourth row; the others had to go farther back.

Hung about were the usual mottoes, worked in colored yarn on perforated cardboard, and, in addition, a notice warning visitors against disorder. It was evident that the materializing business was not unattended with risks. The air was stuffy and smelt of kerosene oil. A curtain of black cambric was stretched across one corner of the room, between the folding doors and the mantelpiece, opposite the windows. The hangings parted in the center, and were now draped up to each side, revealing the interior of the "cabinet."

Professor Vixley rose to announce that any one wishing to examine the cabinet might do so, but nobody seemed to think the investigation worth while. He then went on with an audible conversation with the plump Miss Ellis. He described, first, the wonderful willingness of Little Starlight, who was frequently sent by Flora with astral messages to her mother in Alaska. Lulu played up to him. She saw spirits in the room already--an old man was standing by the door, looking for some one. Another spirit was sitting down beside that young lady in green. Vixley regretted that he couldn't "get" materializing himself, though he had tried all his life. He had occasionally "got" clairvoyance, but it couldn't be depended upon. Clairaudience, of course, was easier. It could be developed in any one who had patience. With his revolving mirrors he could guarantee it in a month. He handed one of his business cards to a woman in black who seemed interested.

Flora Flint, pretty, dressed all in black, came in and joined the conversation. She complained of being tired and headachey, she had worked so hard that day. She stroked her forehead and rubbed her hands, but her eyes were busy with her audience.

She hoped that Stella wouldn't come to-night; Stella always "took it out of her." That was always the way with spirits who had lately "passed out," and who were not yet reconciled to their condition. Stella insisted upon coming back all the time to communicate with her mother--she was not only hindering her own "progression" but worrying her mother by so doing. Stella, moreover, had not yet learned the Laws of Being on the spirit-plane, and had not accustomed herself to the principles of control. Why, it was sometimes positive agony to be taken possession of by Stella. She came in with a bounce like, and it racked the medium all over; and she didn't know how to withdraw her force gradually and easily the way older spirits did. If Wampum, Flora's Indian control, weren't always ready to assist her it would be something terrible. Indians had special power over physical conditions. They were Children of Nature, nearer to earth conditions than others. They had more magnetism, and knew the secrets of natural medicine. Being simple creatures, they were more easily summoned from the spirit sphere--they hadn't "progressed" so far, and they were apt to be still actuated by the motives and desires of the flesh-plane. Oh, yes, they were often coarse and vulgar, but they meant well, indeed they did. Wampum was a great help.

As Flora Flint talked, her eyes ran over the room, looking carefully at her audience. Some she bowed to smilingly; on others her glance rested with more deliberation. She came back again and again to Dougal and Maxim, and to Starr and Benton, in the rear of the room. She whispered to Vixley, after this scrutiny, and he went out to hold a colloquy with Ringa in the hall. Soon after, Mr. Spoll came in and took a seat between the two groups of Pintos. He sat rigidly erect, his thin, bony face impassive, with only his wild eyes moving.

The Pintos listened with delight to Flora's jargon. Starr, placing his note-book under his hat, on his knees, made copious notes. Maxim was most impressed, almost persuaded by the seriousness of the dialogue. Mabel was all ready to believe at the first promise of a marvel. Elsie smiled, Benton yawned, Dougal hugged his electric torch fondly inside his coat.

Madam Spoll soon came in and seated herself between the two windows, under a box containing a lighted kerosene lamp. Her face, usually so complacent, was showing signs of perturbation. She was nervous, looking round every little while suddenly, running her fingers through her short cropped curly hair, throwing her head back as if she found it hard to breathe. She was without a hat, and wore, instead of her professional costume of silk and beads, a black cotton crape gown.

Shortly after eight o'clock, Flora took a chair in front of the cabinet. Vixley rose, fastened black shutters in front of the windows, closed the door, put out the gas and turned down the lamp in the box, shading it with a cloth curtain. The room was now so dark that one could scarcely distinguish anything, until, when eyes became somewhat accustomed to it, figures indistinct and shadowy could be vaguely recognized. Flora Flint spoke:

"I must ask you all to keep perfect silence, please. The spirits won't manifest themselves unless the conditions are favorable and the circle is in a receptive state. We can't do anything unless there's harmony, and if there's any antagonistic vibrations present there's no use attempting anything in the way of demonstration."

After this prologue, she began, accompanied by the faithful, the dreariest tune in the world:

"We are _waiting_, we are _waiting_, we are _waiting_, just now, Just now we are _waiting_, we are _waiting_ just now;

To _receive_ you, to _receive_ you, to _receive_ you just now, Just now to _receive_ you, to _receive_ you just now.

Show your _faces_, show your _faces_, show your _faces_, just now, Just now show your _faces_, show your _faces_ just now!

Come and _bless_ us, come and _bless_ us, come----"

The fourth stanza was here interrupted by three sharp knocks.

"Is that you, Starlight?" the medium asked. Two raps signified assent. "Are you happy, to-night?" Two more knocks.

"Starlight's always happy!" Vixley remarked aloud.

"Yes, she _is_ a bright little thing," the medium assented. "She passed out when she was only twelve; they say she's very pretty. Are there any spirits with you, Starlight?"

Two more raps.

"Who's there--Wampum?"

Two raps were given with terrific force. Everybody laughed.

"Wampum's feeling pretty good, to-night," said Vixley.

"Anybody else?" Flora asked.

Yes, some one else.

"Who? Is it Mr. Torkins?"

Yes.

The voice of a little old dried-up lady on the front row was heard, saying, "Oh, that's Willie! I'm _so_ glad he's come. Are you happy, Willie?"

Yes, Willie was happy. Had he seen Nelly? Yes, he had seen Nelly, and Nelly was also happy. And so, for a time, it went on, like an Ollendorf lesson.

Starlight was then asked if she could not control the medium, orally. She consented, and soon, in a chirping voice the medium twittered forth:

"Hello! Good evenin', folkses! Oh, I'se so glad to see you all, I is! Hello, Mis' Brickett, you's got a new bonnet, isn't you? It's awfully nice! Oh, I'se so happy. I got some candy, too. It's _spirit_ candy; it's lots better'n yours." Here she laughed shrilly and the company snickered.

Mabel could scarcely hold herself in check and had to be pinched. Starlight resumed her artless prattle, with Vixley as interlocutor. The two exchanged homely badinage and pretended to flirt desperately. But she refused this time to sit upon his knee. Finally an old man asked if Walter were there.

"Well, I just _guess_!" said Starlight. "He's my beau, he is! He giv'd me this candy. Want some?" A chocolate drop flew into the middle of the room.

"That's real materialized candy!" Vixley explained. "We're liable to have a good seance, to-night!"

Starlight, after giving a few messages, announced that the spirits had consented to materialize, and requested the company to sing. Flora went into the cabinet, Madam Spoll turned the light still lower, and Vixley, stating that the medium would now go into a dead trance, took the chair in front of the cabinet. A doleful air was started by the believers on the front seats:

"I have a father in the spirit land, I have a father in the spirit land, My father calls me, I must go To meet him in the spirit land!"

then,

"I have a mother in the spirit land,"

and so on, through the whole family, brother, sister and friend.

The darkness was now thick and velvety. The sitters could not see what they touched, and, gazing intently into the void, their eyes filled it with shifting colors and spots of light conjured up by the reflex action of the retina, as if their eyes were shut. As the song ended, there came an awed silence to add to the stifling darkness as they waited for the first manifestation from the cabinet.

Then the hush was broken by excited whispers, and a tall form, dimly luminous, was seen in the opening of the curtains.

"Why, here's the Professor!" said Vixley, shattering the solemnity, and making of this advent a friendly visitation. "Good evening, Professor, we're glad to see you. It's good to have you here again!"

A deep, slow voice replied, articulating its words painfully, "Good eve-ning, friends, I'm ver-y glad to be here to-night!" Every word was chopped into distinct syllables. The figure moved forward a little. It was a typical ghost, a vague, unearthly, draped figure, wavering, indistinct. The face melted into amorphous shadows. It glided here and there noiselessly.

The Professor was an affable celebrity, but somewhat verbose. He spoke to several of the company by name, and interspersed his greetings with jocular remarks to Little Starlight who was supposed to be flitting invisibly about the room. "She's a lit-tul darlink, ev-ery-bod-y loves lit-tul Star-light," he said, in answer to Vixley's comment.

He retreated silently to the cabinet, and the curtains closed upon him. Some one asked if they couldn't see the "Egyptian Hand" and Starlight's voice from the cabinet gave assent. Forthwith it appeared and made a hurried circle of the front part of the room, shedding a ghostly, phosphorescent glow, and, on its way, patting the heads of the faithful.

"Oh, I feel something so nice and soft!" cried Mrs. Brickett. "It's perfectly 'eavenly--right on top of my head--what is it?"

"That's _hair_!" Starlight called out.

The Professor bellowed from the cabinet, "Oh, ho, ho, ho! You must-unt mind lit-tul Star-light! She's so love-ly we don't mind her, do we?"

Vixley gave the cue for another song to cover the next entrance. This time it was _My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean_, its special appositeness seeming to lie in the line, "Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me!"

Another shorter form appeared and stood wavering in front of the curtains, then, without a word, withdrew.

"That's Stella," said Vixley. "She's only come to get progression. She ain't very strong yet, so she can't stay but a minute, but we're always glad to see her and help her along all we can with our thought."

A woman, with a sob, rose to go forward.

"No, not to-night, Mrs. Seeley; the medium ain't strong enough!" said Vixley.

How he recognized these spectral visitors nobody asked. They looked just alike, except, perhaps, for height; all were wavering, white and mysterious, without distinguishable faces. At the entrance of another, like all the rest, Professor Vixley startled the company by saying, suavely and patronizingly:

"This is Mr. McKinley, friends. It's good to see you, Mr. McKinley. I'm glad you come. We're _always_ glad to see you. Come again, come any time you feel like it." He explained, after the spirit vanished, that Mr. McKinley had had great difficulty in finding any medium sympathetic enough for him to control, and he wandered from circle to circle, hoping to establish communication with the earth-plane.

The next visitor was no less than Queen Victoria. "That's good!" said Vixley, "we're awful glad to see you, sure!" It now transpired that the spirits whispered their names to him in entering. His conversation became a bit dreary and monotonous and he failed to rise to his obvious opportunities.

A few forms, after this, came farther from the cabinet, and their friends were permitted to embrace them. These favored few sat on the front seats. Whispered dialogues took place--innocuous talk of troubles and happiness, perturbed commonplaces that, had they not been sometimes accompanied with genuine tears, would have been nothing but ridiculous. The spirits were all optimistic and willing to help. Their advice, usually, consisted of the statement that "conditions would soon be more favorable." At intervals the singers broke out into new songs, There's a Land that is Fairer than Day--_Nearer, My God, to Thee!_--and so on. The air became oppressively close. The audience began to whisper, cough and shuffle. Mabel, desirous of excitement, had nudged Dougal again and again, but he had muttered "Not yet!" at each hint.

The song _Over There_ had just ended, and the hush of expectancy had fallen over the company when another form appeared and took a step towards Vixley.

"She says her name is Felicia," he announced. "Does anybody recognize her?"

"I do!" an unctuously mellow voice replied.

"She says she has a message for you," said Vixley, "but she don't want to give it out loud before all these people. Will you come up here?"

Mr. Payson made his way with difficulty, in the dark, past those on his row and came forward.

"You can touch her, if you want to; she's completely materialized. Very strong indeed for one outside Flora's band. She ain't got much vitality, though, and you mustn't tax her too much."

The old man reached forward and touched a cold hand.

"Is it you, Felicia?" he asked tremulously.

"Yes, dear!" was the answer, in a thick, hoarse whisper. "I'm glad to see you here. You must come often. I've tried so hard to get you. I want to help you."

"You have a message for me?"

She whispered, "Yes; it's about the child."

"What is it?" His voice was eager.

"I've found him."

"Oh, I'm so glad! I've longed so to find him and do what was right by him. You know, don't you?" All this was spoken so low that but few could make out the words.

"Yes, I know. I know you love him."

"Where is he, Felicia?"

"He's in this city. I shall bring him to you. Then we'll be so happy, all three of us--you and I and our dear son!"

Payson's voice rang out sharply in an angry exclamation:

"It's all a damned fraud!" he cried. "This is not a spirit at all!" He took a step forward.

On the instant, before even Vixley could move, Dougal had jumped up and run forward. As he dashed up the aisle he pressed the key of his electric torch and cast a bright light upon the group by the cabinet. The draped form had started back, Payson faced her, Vixley had risen from his chair fiercely, Flora Flint's startled face peered through the curtains.

"Come on, Max!" Dougal shouted, and threw himself bodily upon the person wrapped in the sheet. Maxim grappled at almost the same time, but before him Vixley sprang in and rained blow after blow upon Dougal, who fell, dropping his torch. Vixley then locked with Maxim. Starr and Benton had run up, hurtling past Spoll, who had risen to block the way. They were just too late to save Dougal, who had fallen, still holding his captive fast. It was too dark to see what was happening, but Vixley's oaths led them on, crashing over chairs, creeping and fighting through the now terrified crowd. A match was struck somewhere behind them, and, before it flared out, Starr and Benton fell on Vixley together and bore him to the floor.

The room was now horrid with confusion. A racket of moving chairs told that every one had arisen in panic. Women screamed, and there was a rush for the door. It seemed hours before there was a light, then Madam Spoll reached up and turned up the light. At that moment Ringa flew past her--she was thrown down and the lamp fell crashing upon the seat of a chair beside her. There was an explosion on the instant. She was drenched with blazing oil, and the flames enveloped her.

Her screams rose over the tumult so piercingly that every one turned, saw her, and fell back in fear and terror. She clambered to her feet clumsily, shrieking in agony, ran for the door, tore it open and fled down-stairs, to fall heavily at the bottom, writhing.

Benton was that moment free, and the only man to keep his senses. He burst right through the room, throwing men and women to right and left and broke out the door after her, and down the stairs, tearing a table-cloth from a table as he ran through the hall. He wrapped it about her, the flames scorching his face and hands as he did so. The woman was struggling so in her blind terror and torture that it was for a moment impossible to help her. Then, in a few heroic moments he conquered the fire. At last he called to the crowd above for help, and they carried her up into a small side room and laid her upon a bed.

Starr, meanwhile, still clung to Vixley while Maxim had held Ringa off. Spoll was busy extinguishing the fire on the carpet. Then some one at last lighted the chandelier, showing a score of white, frenzied faces, men and women in wild disarray, chairs broken and strewn upon the floor, a smoking, blackened place on the carpet where the remains of the lamp had fallen. The room smelled horribly.

Vixley lay in a welter of ornaments that had been swept from the mantel in his struggle. He was still cursing.

Dougal had held his captive fast through all that turmoil, yelling continuously for a light. Now Mabel and Elsie, who had flattened themselves against the wall, joining their screams to the din, crept trembling up to him to see what he had caught. He turned the limp figure in his arms and sought amongst the folds of the sheet, and turned them away at the face. Elsie gave a little cry.

[Illustration: He sought amongst the folds of the sheet]

It was Fancy Gray.

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