“I assume that the Marchese is complaisant with his wife’s interests in her former husband,” said Holmes wryly.
I could see that Lombroso was increasingly annoyed with Holmes. He said nothing more.
When we arrived, we were immediately led to a great hall bright with candlelight.
“Note the coming darkness, Watson. The darker the better for our adversaries.” He pronounced the last word with a soft chuckle. We took our seats together.
Professor Lodge spoke first.
“I welcome you, both sceptic and believer, to this historic meeting. All of you, with the exceptions of Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, believe in the reality of the spiritual world and our undeniable abilities to make contact with those of our loved ones who are now there. What make these contacts possible are the extraordinary abilities of the young woman who sits next to Madame Blavatsky. I refer of course to Isadora Persano, the great medium from Naples. We are ready to begin. Are there any other observations to be made?”
Mme. Blavatsky immediately stood up. “It is,” she said in her deep voice, “a matter of sorrow as well as anger that the great traditions of spirituality represented by most of us here have to suffer the infantile skepticism of the world’s so-called greatest detective, but he has gone too far in his criticisms of me. Perhaps we should have disallowed his presence and not attempted this contest, but if he stays, I hope that this experience may change his mind. I hope too that he will judge impartially what is about to transpire in this room.”
Holmes answered immediately. “Dear Madam, I am here at the invitation of Professor Lombroso. I understand that he is chairman of your committee. And so I shall stay unless he asks me to leave. As to my severe criticism, it has not been answered by any one of you satisfactorily. Let me add that I am here to be shown the veracity of your experiences. You believe that the world contains a spiritual aspect. I must say to you all that I sincerely hope you are correct and I am wrong. Unfortunately, I must remain unconvinced until you demonstrate clearly this young woman’s powers.”
Conan Doyle rose and said, “We have in this young woman from Naples the most convincing example of spiritualism that I have come across in my long researches into the subject. Holmes may be skeptical, but I know him to be among the most fair-minded of men. And I must say that he has uncovered a good deal of spiritual charlatanry over the years. My feeling is that Holmes should restate his position after the seance and in the discussions that normally follow.”
“Good, a very strong point, my dear Doyle,” said Professor Lodge.
“Shall we begin then?”
Doyle proposed a brief toast, and we took each other’s hands. No one closed his eyes. Isadora Persano let out a deep groan of pain, her face contorted, her body twisted out of shape. I became suddenly overwhelmed by her monstrous appearance. Holmes was impassive, inscrutable, concentrating on the woman’s every move. Then it happened: instead of running from the room I began to laugh uncontrollably and so did the others, a chuckle at first, and then almost a roar. Isadora gave out an unearthly scream and said, “Someone is coming into me, someone I do not know.”
A strange sound came from a box that rested on a nearby table. It was a sound that I had never heard before, like the crackling of flames.
The room became silent and a man’s voice came from her throat.
“John, are you there? This is your long-lost uncle, Peter Tomkins. Can you hear me? Your mother and father are standing beside me, waiting to speak to you.”
At this moment, I was overcome and I began to sob loudly. While the voice was unknown, the accent was the one that I had grown up with.
“Who the devil are you?” I asked, wiping my eyes, which were now drenched with tears.
“I am your mother’s brother. Let your friends know what I have done for you. And tell them why you went to London last week. And be aware of false friends.”
I suddenly felt compelled to give in detail a description of my uncle’s estate and the monies that he had left to me. I went on, unable to stop the flood of sensations that passed through me.
“Where are you, Peter?” I asked, trying to hold on to my emotions. There was only silence, however.
Isadora slowly resumed her normal shape and walked from the room.
“Are you satisfied?” asked Lodge.
I was about to nod in assent, when I felt Holmes’s strong fingers pressing into my arm.
“I am afraid, Professor Lodge, that you will be disappointed with my verdict, but even more so with my explanation. Where shall we start?”
There was a deep silence. Holmes waited for a moment, looking deeply into the eyes of each of the participants.
“First, then, let me begin my explanation. I must say that the small toast we imbibed at Professor Lodge’s suggestion contained a very small amount of datura, the Indian drug that causes, in order, hysterical laughter, then tears, then a freedom of the word and the inability to lie. This was supplied by Madame Blavatsky, who first received it from Professor Mallik. Is it not so?”
Malllik stood up and confessed. “But its use here was only to make us all feel relaxed. The seance was not influenced by it.”
“Well then, Professor Mallik, do you believe that the voice you heard was that of Dr. Watson’s long-lost uncle?’’
“Of course I do. Why are you not convinced?”
“I remain unconvinced because my dear friend, John H. Watson, M.D., resident at 221b Baker Street, London, does not have, nor has ever had, an uncle named Peter Tomkins. Nor an uncle by any other name. The voice that you heard is therefore that of someone else.”
“But Holmes, what I said about my uncle and his fortune is all true—”
“Indeed, Watson, as far as you are concerned, it is true, but unfortunately it is all false.”
Lombroso was now on his feet, shouting at Holmes. My friend waited patiently until the good professor’s anger spent itself.
“You demand too much, Holmes. You have seen before your very eyes an experiment as successful as any in your own laboratories. Your closest friend was moved to tears by what he heard. How much more would we have learned had it not been for your unjustified scepticism.”
“Professor Lombroso, I ask that you allow me to explain my judgement. You will find in this folder all that you would need to know. The explanation is quite simple: Peter Tomkins does not exist and never has. How do I know that? Because I invented him and supplied the gang that control the Signorina, who is an innocent, with the information for them to use. Please forgive me, dear Watson, for there is no inheritance either. The supposed existence of a large sum of money to be collected by the Palladino gang from your uncle and you was an irresistible lure for them. It is with this promise of ill-gotten gain that they were willing to allow their greatest asset—la signorina here—to participate.”
“But the lawyers, Holmes, they were real and quite emphatic about Tomkins. Why, I returned all the way to London to meet Herriot, a partner in the firm.”
It was as I uttered the last sentence that I saw the lawyer in Holmes’s eyes and the unmistakable look of Mr. Herriot, the advocate I met in London.
“Holmes,” I cried, “it was you all along.’’
“Yes, old fellow. It was the clearest way I could make my point. Should any of you doubt my word, you are welcome to make any inquiries you like at the office of Herriot and Herriot, in Cornwall or London. Since the material of the case is false, the Herriots will have no problem in discussing it at length with anyone around this table. And I am sorry, old boy, that I had you make an extra trip to England, but I had no other way of your hearing the story directly from your lawyers without considerable risk of my plot being found out before our seance here. I see that Madame Blavatsky is trying to get our attention. Let us hear her out.”
The leader of the Theosophical Society was visibly angry.
“Clever, Mr. Holmes, but not clever enough. This is another of your outrageous accusations against people of good will. If you cannot believe in the spiritual, then leave it to those of us who see an awakening of mankind in its possibilities. How do I know, Mr. Holmes, that you did not concoct this scheme with the knowledge and cooperation of this man seated beside your closest friend?”
“Permit me, Madam. I have no objection to your attempts to awaken mankind to its spiritual nature. I merely
