“What I was is less than nothing,” said the voice, now fainter, as if more distant. “I have left behind the shreds and tatters of my life upon that plane. What I am now you would not recognize.”
Mr. Clemens spoke again, in a more serious tone than before. “Why do you come to warn us, if you can’t say who the warning is for, or what it means? Why have you come at all?”
“Poor deluded mortal!” said the voice, suddenly loud again. The chains rattled rhythmically as it continued, “You comprehend nothing. I tell you once again, beware—hold not too closely to material things. Beware!” The chains crashed loudly, as if dropped onto a wooden floor from a height, followed by sudden deep silence. I had an almost palpable sense of the spirit’s absence. I also had a keen awareness that we had learned almost nothing from it. I wondered what else was to come.
A short period of silence was broken by music again—the sound of an accordion. The melody was more cheerful this time, perhaps a dance tune, though not one I was familiar with. Still, I found myself feeling somewhat lighter in spirit, after the lugubrious message of the previous spirit. I also thought to note a faint odor of incense—or was it merely one of the ladies’ perfume I smelled? Again the music ended, although this time the unseen player ended on a proper cadence. As before, there was a moment of silence, and then Sir Denis asked if there was anyone present. He was answered with a veritable chorus of knocks, too rapid and numerous to count, from above, below, and from all sides.
“Is someone there?” said Sir Denis again. “Pray tell us who you are, and to whom you wish to speak.”
The new voice replied by laughing, long and loud. Not a joyous laugh, but a wicked one—the laugh of someone rejoicing at the destruction of a foe, or at some ill-gotten gain. It made the hair stand up on the nape of my neck. What sort of spirit had come among us now?
“Speak to us,” said Sir Denis again. “Have you a message for anyone here?”
The laughter was repeated, and then a voice spoke. “I have no message for you,” it said. Unlike the previous voices, this new one was unmistakably that of a woman—although it was as different from Martha McPhee’s natural voice as the others had been. For a moment, I thought I recognized it—but the person of whom I was thinking was thousands of miles away, and to the best of my knowledge still among the living.
“Why have you come among us, then?” asked Sir Denis.
“I come because I am compelled,” said the voice, significantly. There were more rappings, interspersed with the high-pitched tinkle of what sounded like small silver bells.
“How compelled?” asked Sir Denis. “Is it we who have compelled you, or some power on the other side?” To this the voice responded only with a deep sigh. A silence followed, although I had a strong sense that the entity behind the voice was still present in our midst.
“If you have no message for us, will you answer a question?” It was Susy Clemens who broke the silence. I felt her grip on my hand tighten, as if to gather reassurance.
“I will answer what I may,” said the voice, its tone somehow gentler. “There are many things I am not permitted to speak of. And you may not understand some of the things I am permitted to answer. There are realms beyond the ken of mortals.”
“I can accept that,” said Susy, in a quiet but confident voice. “Tell me, please, can you foretell the future?”
“Past and future mean nothing to us,” said the voice. “We see many things, some that have already happened, some that may happen, and some that may never come to be. Which are which we cannot always say.” The small bells tinkled again, sounding closer now.
When the tinkling had subsided, Susy continued. “Would you please answer a question for me and my sisters? Which of us will be the first to marry?”
I heard her father’s soft chuckle as she finished the question. The female spirit responded with a gentle laugh, as well—it would have been a warm, friendly sound, had I heard it in any other setting than this. “The first to marry will be married the longest,” it said.
“But which of us will it be?” said Susy, pressing the question. “Surely, it cannot be forbidden to tell me that.”
“What is forbidden and what permitted is not yours to judge,” said the voice, now not as friendly sounding. The silver bells began jingling in a slow, steady rhythm.
“Why can’t you ever give a plain answer to a plain question? Papa thinks you’re just a humbug, and I’m beginning to think he’s right,” said Susy, now sounding distinctly cross.
“You do not know whereof you ask,” said the voice, distinctly angry. “You mortals cannot see what is before your faces. How should you presume to quiz those who can see more clearly? Why should I deign to answer you?”
An ominous volley of raps came from every corner of the room, growing to a thunderous crescendo, and the slow tolling of a distant church bell began again.
“Stop trying to scare the girl,” said Mr. Clemens, sharply. “She asked you a polite question, and you dodged it. She asked you again, and you still haven’t said anything worth listening to. If you can’t give us good answers, why don’t you just say so, without all the damned noises and mumbo jumbo?”
As if to spite him, the knocking continued just as loud, now joined by rattling chains. I braced myself for an outburst from my employer—or perhaps from the “spirits,” who seemed to be building up to some sort of culmination. I cannot say exactly what I expected to happen—but surely it was not the sudden groan that
