Someone was speaking.
'Oh, my eye,' breathed Evelyn. 'My own eye! Ken, is this true? Is that the way the room was arranged?'
I was thinking back on the first curious evidence I had beard in the case; the report that Sergeant Davis, who had crept up one night to look through a chink in the shutters of Hogenauer's parlour; had made to Charters: 'He says that the room was dark, but that it seemed to be very full of small, moving darts of light flickering round a thing like a flower-pot turned upside down.' So that, then, was how Hogenauer thought he was able to transfer himself through the air, unseen, like Albertus Magnus.
'It's just how the room was arranged,' I admitted. 'There was a loop in the end of that string, to hang it from the light.'
'Move over,' said Stone; 'I can't see the foot of the page. Now turn it; next page! Yes, but what about the furniture being changed around? That — '
It will readily be understood that, in a man suffering from morbid idiopathic action, such experiments can be dangerous. Not only is my friend convinced if his own ability to project his own mind, but he is anxious to convince me that I can do the same. It is true that, both mentally and physically, we have a great deal in common; we are first cousins, and, like Hogenauer, I am a good hypnotic subject. So much, again, I have never denied. He contends that, if we were to throw ourselves into a hypnotic state at the same hour — he in his own home, I in mine — and if physical conditions were made the same for both of us, then I should be able to 'pay a visit' to his rooms at the same time that he 'paid a visit to mine.'
I replied that I had no doubt of my ability, by concentration, to attain a state of self-hypnosis. The sequel I denied, because there would be no means of proving it. While in the cataleptic state, influenced by thoughts already planted in my subconscious mind, it was possible I might receive a hallucination of having 'visited' his study at Moreton Abbot. Having been there many times, I should have too vivid a memory of it. He told me-only this morning — that he would arrange a suitable test for this: viz., he would so alter the arrangement of furniture in his study that if, on waking, I could recall the position in which it stood, then there would be irrefutable proof that this could be no mere projection of memory….
'Have you got to the bottom of that page?' inquired Evelyn. 'Because, if you have, let us take an interval out for groaning. There was undoubtedly method in the old boy's madness. Also, you can see the explanation of dear Mr. Hogenauer's jocular remarks to that servant what's his name-'
'Bowers?'
'M. Bowers, yes. about paying a visit to Keppel tonight. Grand sense of humour, I don't think. `I am going to Bristol to-night.' `Shall I pack a bag?' `No, I won't need a bag,' — ha, ha, ha. `Yes, I'll be at Dr. Keppel's, but I don't think Dr. Keppel will be there: in fact, I've got every hope that he'll be out.' And his final dig: `Yes, Harry, I think you may have a visitor to-night, but I doubt if you'll see him.' So,' concluded Evelyn, tapping the papers, 'this morning Keppel went to Hogenauer's house to arrange the details-,
… arrange the details [said the dead man's handwriting]. And so we come to the point of all these sheets, and the reason why I inflict on you such a detailed statement. This morning he made a further suggestion. He showed me a bottle which he said contained 'bromide powders,' suggesting that — since we should both be under some mental excitement at the time of the experiment, and might find difficulty in concentrating sufficiently to induce a quick state of hypnosis — we should both take a dose of the nerve sedative just fifteen minutes before the experiment began. He poured a dose of about a dram, or, roughly, a teaspoonful, into an envelope, and gave it to me. He further suggested that we should both swallow the sedative in mineral-water, so that conditions should be the same.
I hope you do not smile at the spectacle of two elderly gentlemen playing nonsensical games. I agree to all this because I mean to save Paul Hogenauer's mental health; and I have done more absurd things to convince men of less important truths. But here I may say that I became suspicious. For the test I have imposed on him is this: I have said that I shall put a certain piece of writing into an envelope, seal it up, and place it in the upper left-hand pigeon-hole of my desk. If he can read what is written inside, and afterwards quote its contents correctly to me, I have promised to give more credit to his belief.
Yet (you, being a practical man, will ask) why does he give me a bromide? 1 am a practical man as well. I believe my friend to be an honest man; but I do not need to point out that even honest men have resorted to charlatanism — in the teeth of skeptics — in order to prove what they believe to be a truth. Hence some, I fear, of our 'miracles.' Suppose, then, that what he has given to me as a bromide is really a sleeping-draught? In order to demonstrate the accuracy of that which he cannot scientifically prove, he has conceived the idea of putting me to sleep for some hours while he comes here in the flesh to get at that envelope.
It is only a suspicion, yet I have direct confirmation of it. I tasted the white powder, and found it bitter: unlike a bromide. But I know, therefore, what in all probability it is. It is veronal, a strong sleeping-draught.
I mean to go through with this, and take the dose. But I have also taken precautions to see that this letter cannot be tampered with. By the time you read this, you will have helped me. In addition to making it impossible for any trickery to take place, I have instructed the hotel to allow nobody into my rooms until I 'return.' At fifteen minutes to nine to-night, I shall take the dose. For my own self-hypnosis, I have chosen the medium of a sheet of convex glass, actually the lens of a magic-lantern. The windows of my study, you may have noticed, face the west; I have calculated the angle of the sun, low at that hour. It should strike through the far window with just sufficient strength to draw a proper reflection from the crystal without attaining (in convex glass) the effect of a burning- glass; but, in order to prevent distortion, I must raise the window. God knows, I am giving his experiment a fair chance!
Whether my friend intends fraud, or whether I am entirely mistaken — as is possible-in any case he must be roused out of these experiments. I should not care to see him certified. Even if he kept all mention of them to himself and to me, and worked secretly, it would be bad enough. But he has a passion for writing letters. Even in the old days of the war, when he chose to go back to our native country and ally himself with secret-service operations, this strange friend of mine must write a full account of his motives to the Chief of the British Counter — Espionage Service. He has never, I think, forgotten those days. Many friends remain to him in England, though he sees few of them. What he does is to write notes. Why' he should write mysterious notes, making dark hints about a subject on which he is working, but never mentioning its nature, I do not know: but doubtless a psychiatrist would. This is bad enough when it comes to writing to private individuals. But when he chooses to write to such people as the Chairman of the British Medical Association, and even to the Home Secretary, I must point out that the Home Secretary probably suspects the existence of some sinister political plot, and I should not be surprised to find us both being watched. This is ridiculous. I have, therefore, urged my friend to write and correct such impressions. I believe he did so, at last, this very morning — to a seat of authority. At least they will know he is honest, even if they suspect him of being mad. But I know, too, that he believes
I suspect him of fraud in the managing of his 'experiment' to-night. He showed me a copy of the letter, in which I noticed significant words. It went something like: 'I have always denied that the soul, or spirit, or life-force, or what ever you wish to call it, is confined to hard-and-fast planes. I will make the attempt to-night, and I assure Your Excellency that I have every hope of success. The envelope is in the upper left-hand pigeon-hole of Keppel's desk at the Cabot Hotel, Bristol. Perhaps it would have been wiser, in view of Keppel's doubts, to have had two reliable men here, — as witnesses, without a doubt. Does he mean no trickery, then? In any case, the letter will be received to-morrow and will clear up whatever suspicions may exist. Tomfoolery! At least it has been sent to a man who will thoroughly understand: His Excellency the Chief of the Military Intelligence Department, Sir Henry Merrivale.
There were a few more words, but we did not look at them. Stone brought his hand down slowly on the table, and spoke in an awed, hollow, ecstatic tone.
'Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,' he said, in such a youthful-sounding voice that we turned to peer at him. 'Right this way, ladies and gentlemen. Step right up. This way to the big tent. Only ten cents, one dime, the tenth part of a dollar, to see the Cheshire cat chase its tail. See it chase its tail all round the tent. See the Grand Walrus, the One and Original Lummox, in a grand race with two operatives to grab a letter that will be delivered to him by the mail-man to-morrow morning.'
