“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hannan. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to converse at the club.”
“Indeed. I noticed you were very much in demand.” I said respectfully.
“I was. It has long been an ambition of mine to come to London and join The Society for Psychical Research. I have not yet been shown that particular honor but I’ve dined at the Athenaeum several times and met with Society members. It is wonderful to engage in intellectual discourse with some of the greatest minds of our generation.”
Blake’s voice was rich and charismatic, but it was as if his mouth said one thing, but those eyes told a different story—I was sure he was sizing me up. I repressed a shiver.
I understood that many intellectuals were advocates of Theosophy and Spiritualism. They sought to understand the mysteries of existence, and what occurred beyond the veil. It was an area of study that gave me trepidation; however, my club was a perfect hunting ground for such inquiring minds.
I clasped my hands in my lap. “Now, Mr. Blake, how can I help you today?” I asked cordially.
Blake pursed his lips in thought and then said, “I have some business I need to attend to and you come highly recommended Mr. Hannan”.
“Is that so? I will do what I can to assist.” I said flatly, not succumbing to his flattery.
“I do not know what you have heard of me, sir. I see myself as a ‘truth seeker’. I am a Theosophist and I write for The Light, a periodical where we share testimonies and phenomena.”
Blake opened his jacket and retrieved a copy of that very periodical. He offered it to me, and not wanting to appear rude I accepted the pamphlet and smiled gratefully. I placed the periodical on the tea table and glanced at the front page which held the headline:
Ancient and Modern Testimonies to Spiritualism by A Truth Seeker.
“There are so many brilliant minds in the Empire who are open to investigating the unknown nature of our universe. I understand your very own Queen Victoria is a great friend of spiritualism.”
“I believe so.” I’d read in the newspaper of Queen Victoria’s fascination with spiritualism. I saw it primarily as the act of a woman who was grieving for her beloved and opened herself to the hope there was a way of reaching him. I did not believe it was possible myself, but Her Majesty engaged in regular séances with esteemed spiritualists and had apparently passed messages beyond the grave to Prince Albert.
“I endured quite an arduous journey across the Atlantic but it was worth every dime it to meet with great minds and seek assistance with my work.”
“Your work?”
“I am looking for investors who share my passion for finding answers to life’s great adventure.” He said theatrically waving his hands.
Ah, so that was his ruse. Well, I hope he had not come begging for a donation! I’d be damned if he got a brass farthing from me for his occult nonsense. I must have looked rather distrustful and bemused at his explanation because Blake then said,
“I’m serious. I mean to penetrate the veil, Mr. Hannan. That is my goal—to penetrate the veil and return to tell what I have seen on the other side.”
That was outrageous, blasphemous even. I had heard of such men who sought ways to invite death and return to tell their tale—as of yet none had succeeded—although many con men professed to succeeding! So…this American was not just a Theosophist, he was a resurrectionist. I found I was rather appalled. Man cannot play God. He cannot toy with the gift of life or return it when life is extinct. My mouth went dry and I moved my hand up to the silver cross at my chest that gave me comfort, but then I remembered Sebastian had taken it in exchange for the Staff. Damn and blast!
“What service can I do for you, Mr. Blake?” There was an unimpressed, hollow ring to my voice. I did not particularly like this fellow for he challenged far too many of my long-held beliefs.
“Those who attend my lectures occasionally offer me gifts to assist with financing the great work. Several items were gifted to me at my show last night. I have no use for them and I wonder, would you appraise the items and put them up for auction?”
I noted that Blake called his lecture a ‘show’ and so I was even more dubious of his airy-fairy rhetoric. Lawrence Blake threaded his hand into the inner pocket of his frock coat and retrieved three silver items—a small spice box made in the shape of a fish, a snuff-box, and a silver stamp case. He passed the items to me. I removed my small magnifier from my waistcoat pocket and put it to my eye to inspect them. I checked the quality of the silver hallmarks, looked for dents and splits in the thin shiny metal, and anything else that may detract from the value. The stamp case was marked with the year 1888, James Allen of Birmingham. He was a good maker, but the item was not old, rare, or worth a great deal. The snuff box was of good quality,
