According to her husband, Mrs. Altamont described the phenomenon as a solid materialization of the dead girl. In the darkness of the seance room, the mother had not only exchanged a few words of conversation with this barely visible figure, but had actually kissed and embraced it, in the perfect conviction that her own Louisa had come back across the border of death to visit her.
“I can only think,” Altamont concluded bitterly, “that this apparition must have been actually some partner, or hireling, of the mediums, whom they had brought stealthily into the house. There may have been some connivance on the part of one or more of our servants–though I had believed them all to be loyal.”
“Perhaps,” Holmes mused, “it was young Sarah Kirkaldy herself who played the role of your late daughter?”
Our visitor shook his head. “Madeline assured me that she was holding one hand of each of the mediums the whole time the apparition was in the room.”
“Thus allowing one hand of each to remain free?” My friend shook his head and smiled with grim amusement. “I fear it is often difficult for the lay person to believe what amazing feats a skilled conjuror may achieve in a darkened room, even when both hands are supposedly secured–especially when the audience is eager to believe.”
Our visitor had been much affected by his own story. While he paused to recover himself, Holmes added: “It is apparent, Mr. Altamont, that you yourself have not the least doubt that the manifestations which so moved your wife were sheer trickery.”
“What else?” When neither of us replied, the man in his agitation rose from his chair and began to pace the floor. but he soon paused. “Mr. Holmes, I am an agnostic. There are moments, I admit, when I almost wish that I could accept last night’s events as genuine; but if the church of my fathers cannot convince me that the spirit of my girl survives in heaven, how can I credit for a moment this damnable imposture upon an earthly plane?”
I observed that the strain was telling seriously upon Altamont. The act of pouring out his troubles had only increased his excitement rather than relieving it. I suggested loosening his collar, and my offer of brandy was accepted.
He wiped his brow. “Gentlemen, you must excuse my emotion. The fact is that my beautiful daughter is dead, and nothing can change that. I must–I will–take some action against these scoundrels. I have thought of the horsewhip, but I fear that such action on my part might turn Madeline, not to mention the law, utterly against me.”
“In that you are correct.” Holmes had obviously been moved by our visitor’s story, and his voice was sympathetic as he asked: “You have gone to the police?”
Altamont shook his head. “I am convinced that it would be useless. So far this pair of villains have been too clever to ask directly for money. but last night–through this unidentified young woman, this confederate they have enlisted to play my daughter’s part–they hinted broadly about missing treasure.”
“Indeed? That seems a new approach.”
“I am determined that it must not be successful.”
“Of course. What exactly was the message conveyed by the young woman–whoever she may have been?”
Altamont seemed to be making an effort to remember. but then he shook his head. “Madeline did not give me the exact words. Some kind of a complaint, regarding stolen property which must be restored–God help us!–so that Louisa’s spirit may obtain eternal rest. I am mortally certain, if my wife does not spontaneously offer to enrich these scoundrels, that in their succeeding performances this supposed treasure will loom larger and larger, until eventually it is made to seem our duty to produce it and hand it over. Meanwhile, there is no law against conducting seances. If there were, I fear that half the people my wife and I know socially would be in gaol.” Our visitor gave the ghost of a smile.
Holmes was wearing that abstracted expression which generally betokened a keen and growing interest. “And you really have no idea of what treasure, or property, was meant?”
Altamont shook his head emphatically. “None whatever. The family estate in buckinghamshire is, of course, quite substantial.”
Holmes nodded, and was silent for a time. Once or twice I thought him on the verge of speaking, but he did not. “How can I help you?” he asked at last.
Altamont smote his fist upon the table. “Expose these wretches for the swindlers that they are! I am sure that events will sooner or later make their true nature plain, even to my wife, but it would be intolerable for this tragic farce to be prolonged. Spare no expense, Mr. Holmes. I want the scales lifted from Madeline’s eyes; it will be hard on her, but the longer the discovery is postponed, the worse it must be. better to face the harsh facts now than to spend years as the slave to a delusion.”
Holmes considered the problem quietly for a minute, then asked: “I suppose your wife wishes to repeat the seance?”
“Indeed she is very eager to do so, even against my opposition, and this morning she talked of little else. In fact she has pleaded with me to be present at the next sitting. Madeline has tried also to enlist the sympathy of our surviving daughter, Rebecca, and of young Martin Armstrong, the man to whom Louisa was to have been married next month. but I am sure that Martin, being a sensible young man, entirely agrees with me.”
“And supposing such a repeat performance does take place, when and where will it be held?”
Our client made a gesture signifying resignation. “No doubt Madeline will want to have it in our own house, as before. As far as I know, she has not settled on a time. Perhaps my absolute and solemn prohibition would delay the affair by as much as a day or two.” Altamont smiled grimly. “If either of you gentlemen are married, you will understand. I believe that my wife still hopes to convince me to attend.”
“She is really eager for you to do so?”
“Oh, not if I remain hostile to the idea. She is eager, as she puts it, for me to demonstrate an open mind. I have the impression that the Kirkaldys, knowing me to be a hardened skeptic, are not quite so anxious for my presence at their next performance. Of course I have not spoken with them on the point.”
It was decided among the three of us that a date for the next seance should be set, and that Holmes and I would attend, probably incognito, playing the roles of amateurs in psychic research, business acquaintances of Altamont who had convinced him to be open-minded about the possibility of communication with those who had gone beyond the veil.
Before our visitor departed, we obtained from him some detailed information relevant to the case, including the address and place of employment of Martin Armstrong. The young man, we learned, was employed as a correspondent for an American newspaper, and was now working out of an office in Fleet Street.
When our client had departed, my companion turned to me with an expression half serious and half quizzical. “Well, Watson?”
“Mr. Altamont has a just grievance, in my view.”
“So it would seem, at least on present evidence. but we must, I think, move carefully. The most obvious, worldly, down-to-earth explanation in matters involving supposed occult activity is not always the correct one.”
Something in my companion’s voice as he uttered those last words again made me look at him closely. I frowned. “Holmes–”
“Yes, old fellow, I have in mind a subject on which we have not spoken for a long time. Six years ago we shared a certain experience– one which led us rather deeply into what many would call the world of the supernatural. Those events have not been a frequent subject of conversation between us since then–”
“No,” I said. “No, they have not.”
He smiled faintly. “–but I think I may safely assume that you have not forgotten the affair?”
“I have not forgotten, Holmes. I never shall.”
“Nor have I. It would be impossible to forget any detail of the incontrovertible evidence we both observed then, of human life beyond... if not beyond death, at least beyond burial and the grave.”
“Then it is your belief...?” Still the words were hard for me to say. I am sure that I unconsciously lowered my voice. “Your belief that the Altamont girl may have become... a vampire?”
He sighed, and began to reload his pipe. “I say only that, on the basis of the evidence so far, we must keep our minds open to that possibility. Are you with me, Watson?”
“Of course!” And I endeavored to put into my voice a heartiness I was far from feeling.
