Part 30

"It's more'n likely he'll pay Ringa to stay away," Vixley remarked cynically. "I've seen these here fond parents before. I don't seem to see Ringa doin' society somehow. He'd be tryin' to blow the foam off his champagne and chewin' tobacco in the ball-room the first thing. But he'll do for a starter. If worse comes to worst we can hold the old man up to keep the story dark--and then there's the weeklies, they wouldn't mind gettin' hold of it."

"Say!" Madam Spoll suddenly exclaimed, "what's become of Fancy Gray, now that Frank has thrown her down?"

"Why, ain't you heard? She's took up with this fellow Cayley."

"No!" Madam Spoll's eyes were opened wide at the bit of gossip. "What's he up to with her, anyway?"

"Why, I expect he's trying to use her someway, so's to queer Frank's game with Miss Payson. Fancy knows all about Frank, if she can be induced to tell. If Cayley can show Frank up, he stands a better show to catch Miss Payson himself. At least, that's the way I figure it. I ain't got no idea that Cayley cares a rap for Fancy, but he's smooth, and as long as he can use her he'll keep her jollied along."

The Madam had been thinking hard. "Fancy ought to be pretty sore on Frank," she offered.

"I don't blame her. He's treated her bad."

"And there's no doubt about her being stuck on Cayley?"

"It certainly looks like it; she's with him all the time."

"Well, then, what's the matter with getting Cayley to work her so she can help us out with Payson? I believe we could use her good. She's a saucy chit, and she makes me tired with her fly-up-the-creek impudence; but all the same, she's clever, and if Cayley could only induce her to go into it, I can see lots of ways she could help."

Vixley thought over the matter for a few minutes in silence. "All right, Gertie, I'll speak to him about it. I guess he'll do it; he'll be afraid not to. We got him pretty well tied up, now."

"You can promise him that Felicia will recommend that he marries the girl. That'll be an inducement."

"I'm afraid the Payson girl has got something to say about that herself, from all I hear."

"Well, at any rate, we've queered Frank Granthope, and that's what Cayley wanted most."

"I guess so; at least, that's what I make out from what he says. He's pretty close-mouthed."

"Well, if he ain't close-mouthed about Payson, he can tend to his own affairs alone, for all I care. Has he gave you any more dope?"

"Has he! Why, he's been a-ringin' of me up every day, tippin' me off to everything the old man's up to!"

"You ain't let on anything about this child business to Cayley, have you?"

"D'you think I want to queer the whole game? Of course not. Why, Cayley would be scared that the daughter wouldn't get any of the money if he knew they was another heir. All the same, we got to be careful of Cayley, for he certainly has helped considerable. The old man wouldn't be where we got him now if Cayley hadn't shown up. What d'you think he told me this mornin'? Payson's been round to a lot of printers, gettin' estimates on the book, so's he can publish it hisself! Ain't that a gall? He never asked my advice about it! I'm going to give him a dig about that."

"Oh, well, let's get down to business, I ain't got any too much time," Madam Spoll interrupted. "About the materializing, now. We got to have a private seance, of course?"

Vixley rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and lifted himself up and down on his toes as he gazed at her. "I been a-thinkin' it over, Gert, and I come to the conclusion that it ain't best. Payson ain't prepared for it yet, and we got to go easy. He ain't actually convinced of physical mediumship yet, as it is. I think we better spring it on him at a public. Flora can pack the room with believers and cappers, and then, after Payson's seen a lot of other folks recognizin' spirits and gettin' messages, why, he'll be more inclined to swallow his test. I've made a study of him, and that's my opinion."

"Has Flora got plenty of help?"

"She wants one more girl to play spirit, for she's just lost a dandy she had--she was arrested for shopliftin', I believe. We can fix her up, though. There's your Miss French, for one."

"I don't trust her much, but she'll do on a pinch. But Perry we must have. It's better to use our own people. Who's Flora's cabinet control?"

"Little Starlight. Flora does her with a telescope rod. Oh, Flora's slick! She's a cracker jack of a ventriloquist--she's got at least six good voices!"

"How does she work, now? From the front seats?"

"No, mostly through the foldin' doors. As soon as the room is dark and the singin' has commenced she has the door rolled back the wrong way about a foot, and her players come in that way. They don't show against the black cloth, and they's no danger at all, for if anybody wants to examine the cabinet they ain't no panels nor nothing to be exposed. Flora's just got up a grand disappearance act, she tells me. She wears a white petticoat and her overskirt is lined with white. When she comes out of the cabinet her skirt is lifted up and wrapped round her head inside-out, as natural as life. Then she gradually lowers it and the whole form slowly disappears down to the ground like a snow-man meltin' in the sun. No, sir, you can't beat that girl, not in this town!"

"Vixley, I don't see no end to this graft. Why, after we've materialized we can etherealize, can't we?"

"Yes, and then we'll develop him till he don't know where he's at."

"And spirit-pictures, too. Felicia'll take a grand photograph!"

"You bet. I'm going to try them big cloth ones that you spray with prussiate o' potash. You can get blue, yeller, and brown fine. I been workin' on it already."

A ring at the front door-bell interrupted her colloquy. Vixley tiptoed to the window and peeped out; then he turned with a scowl.

"It's Doc Masterson. What the devil does _he_ want, anyway?"

"No good, I'll bet," she replied.

"I got to let him in, I s'pose. It won't do to send him away, the old snake-in-the-grass. He's too smooth!"

"Oh, I ain't afraid of him. I wan't born yesterday," was her contemptuous reply.

"All the same, you be careful what you say to him, Gert," Vixley cautioned, as he went out into the hall.

He reappeared with the doctor. Madam Spoll smiled sweetly.

Doctor Masterson greeted her with a sour expression, and shook hands limply. He sat down deliberately, and, pulling out a soiled silk handkerchief, wiped his creased forehead and his bald pate. Then he cleaned his iron-bowed spectacles, blinking his red eyes as he breathed on the lenses.

Vixley, from the organ bench, watched him shrewdly, and offered him a cigar.

"No, thanks, I don't smoke," said the doctor peevishly.

"Since when?" Vixley asked in surprise.

"Since you give me that last 'Flor de Chinatown,' or whatever it was. When I want to smoke rag carpets again I'll try another." He showed his black teeth in a vicious grin.

Vixley tittered. "What's wrong, Doc? Looks like you had a grouch. Been takin' too much of Hasandoka's medicine lately? You didn't come round here to look a gift-horse in the mouth, did you?"

The doctor cleared his throat and pulled down his plaid waistcoat. "No, I didn't. But I didn't come round for to give you any hot air, neither! I'm glad I struck Madam Spoll here, for what I got to say may interest her, too."

"Spit it out and get rid of it, then," said Vixley; "don't mind us."

"The fact is," said Masterson, "you ain't neither of you treated me square. I fully expected to be in on this Payson game, from what you led me to believe, and you not only let me out with only a month's work, but you've shut me off from the main graft."

Madam Spoll fired up. "We never told you we was going to whack up with you, at all! Seems to me you got considerable nerve to try and butt in! Who's running this thing, anyway? You got all that's coming to you. We ain't never took him into partnership, Vixley, have we?"

"I ain't seen no contrack to that effect. You ain't got no call to complain, Doc; they ain't enough in it for three. Payson ain't loosened up enough for us to retire on it, yet."

Masterson's thin lips drew back like a hound's, to show his fangs. His Adam's apple rose and fell above his celluloid collar, as he swallowed his irritation. "_Oh_, very well," he said quickly. "Of course, if you want to freeze me out, you can. But I don't call it a square deal. I was the one what got him going, wan't I? Didn't I do my part all right? I understand you're going to materialize him and develop him, and the Lord knows what-all. I don't see why you can't find room for me, somewhere."

"You ought to be thankful for what you got out of it!" Madam Spoll exclaimed. "Lord, we didn't have to take you on at all! They's plenty of others we could have used. You're three hundred ahead of the game as it stands, and that's more than you've ever made in six months, before. Don't be a hog!"

"That's a nice thing for _you_ to say," he sneered. "When I get up to two hundred pounds I'll begin to worry about _that_."

Vixley interfered craftily. "We'll think it over and let you know, Doc; we may be able to use you, perhaps, but we can't tell yet a while--not till we see how this thing turns out."

Madam Spoll broke in again, shaking her fat finger at him. "Don't you believe it, Masterson! Me and Vixley can work this thing alone, and you better keep your nose out of our business! If you come here looking for trouble, you can find it, fast enough!"

Vixley winked at her, but she was too angry to notice it. Masterson rose stiffly and faced her, his thumbs caught in the armholes of his plaid waistcoat. "All right," he said. "I ain't going to get down on to my knees to _you_. But the next time I'm asked for a good clairvoyant, it won't be you. I only ask what's fair, and I didn't come here for to be insulted."

"Oh, get on to yourself!" Vixley said, taking him by the arm. "Nobody ain't insulted you. You can't blame us if we want to do this our own way, can you?"

The doctor shrugged his shoulders and took a few steps toward the door. "You may think better of it when you talk it over," he hinted darkly. "You may see my side of it. Good afternoon, Madam Spoll, I won't take no more of your valuable time." He walked out.

"You was a fool, Gert," said Vixley, after the door slammed. "It won't do to let him get down on us. He knows too much."

"Pooh!" she flouted, bridling. "I ain't afraid of Masterson, nor anybody like him. He ain't got enough blood in his neck to do anything. He just came round here like a pan-handler to see if we wouldn't give him a poke-out. I'll see him further!"

"I ain't so sure," Vixley replied, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "My rule is, don't make no enemies if you can help it. But of course we got to cut him out."

Madam Spoll subsided and changed the subject. "Have you got that developing machine yet?" she asked, her eyes, roving about the room.

He walked to the desk and carried the machine to the small table in front of her. Taking off the cloth he disclosed the revolving mirrors actuated by clockwork. It was much like the instrument first used by Braid in his experiments with mesmerism. He wound the spring and set the mirrors in motion. They whirled madly in their circle, casting flashes of light.

"That's the way it works--you just stare at it hard. I guess that will hold Payson a while. He's got the scientific bug enough to like this sort of thing."

Madam Spoll put her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand, gazing, fascinated, at the flash of the revolving mirrors. As the machine began to whir, the canary in the cage by the window began warbling in an ecstasy of song. Vixley swore at the bird, and then, as it refused to stop, took down the cage and walked to the door with it.

"I guess that'll bring Felicia, all right, won't it?" he said as he went out of the room, leaving Madam Spoll transfixed, lulled and charmed by the flying mirrors.

He was gone longer than he intended; it was seven or eight minutes before he returned, whistling through his teeth. He turned into the front room and stopped in astonishment.

Madam Spoll was standing beside the machine, which had now run down. Her eyes stared blankly at the desk, one hand clutched her breast, the other was raised, as if to put something away from her. Her little low-crowned Derby hat had fallen partly off and hung on one side of her head. She stared, without speaking, her face set with an expression of terror.

"For Heaven's sake, Gert, what's the matter?" he cried.

She turned her eyes slowly toward him, shuddered, sighed, and her hands fell together. Then her face lighted up in a frenzy. "My God, Vixley, I got it! I got it! After all these years!"

"Got what, you crazy fool? The jimjams?"

"I got materializing--I got a spirit! She was right over there by the desk--a woman with white hair, it was, and she give me a message!"

"Rats!" Vixley was contemptuous. He took her hand and gave her a little shake. "Is _that_ all? I guess you was hypnotized, Gert, that's all. That's what I got this jigger for, only I never thought _you'd_ be one to go off half-cock like that!"

"Vixley," she said emphatically, "don't you be a fool! I see a spirit for the first time in my life, and you can't make me believe I didn't. And I know who it was, now. It was Felicia Grant, as I'm a sinner, and she came to warn me about Payson. Oh, you can laugh; I s'pose I would if I was you, but this was the real thing, sure!"

She reseated herself on the sofa and put her hands to her eyes. Vixley sat on the arm of the Morris chair and laughed loudly. "Well, well!" he exclaimed, "if that ain't a good one! Spirit, was it? Well, I guess if it'll work on Gertie Spoll it'll work on Payson, all right. Oh, Lord!"

She shook both hands wildly, almost hysterical with excitement, the tears flowing. "My God! We can't go on with Payson now. I don't dare to. I'm frightened."

"Oh, you just got an attack of nerves, that's all. You'll get over it and laugh at it. You keep still and cool off."

She wagged her head solemnly, unconscious of her hanging hat. "See here, Vixley, you know me! I'm too old a bird to be fooled with fakes--I've done too much of that myself. I've always claimed that I had clairvoyance, but I lied. I never got that nor clairaudience, no matter how I tried for it, and I've had to fake. I've had a gift o' guessing, perhaps, but that's all. But I swear to God, I got materializing just now. I've scoffed at it all my life, but I believe it now. I see her just as soon as you left, standing right over there by the desk, she was, and she turned to me and she says, 'If you persist you will come to harm. Take my advice and don't you do it!' and then she faded away. What d'you s'pose it means?"

"It means you need a drink," he said, and, walking to the desk, he took out a whisky bottle and poured out a stiff dose. "Them's the spirits that'll help you most. You put this down and see how you feel!"

She put it away with an impatient gesture. "Oh, you don't believe it," she cried, "but I see her just as plain as I see you this minute, and I heard her, too. What'll I do, Vixley? I can't give up my business, can I? I got to live."

"What's the matter with you? I don't see as they's anything to worry about, granted it was a spirit, which it wasn't one, o' course."

"She said, 'If you persist you will come to harm!' What else could that mean but Payson? Let's call it all off, before anything happens."

"Bosh! It ain't likely it meant Payson any more than it did anything else. Why, the thing is as simple as a rattle. Spirits be damned! You leave that to the suckers--with money."

Although his incredulity and sneers prevented her from actually withdrawing from the projected seance, she was by no means restored to calmness. She gave but a reluctant, distracted attention to his plans, and talked little herself. She went home oppressed by the sinister suggestions of her vision, muttering her dread for the future.

*CHAPTER XVII*

*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.