Queen Lucia

  Chapter THIRTEEN

  Spiritualism, and all things pertaining to it, swept over Riseholmelike the amazing growth of some tropical forest, germinating andshooting out its surprising vegetation, and rearing into huge fantasticshapes. In the centre of this wonderful jungle was a temple, so tospeak, and that temple was the house of Mrs Quantock....

  A strange Providence was the origin of it all. Mrs Quantock, a weekbefore, had the toothache, and being no longer in the fold of ChristianScience, found that it was no good at all to tell herself that it was afalse claim. False claim it might be, but it was so plausible at oncethat it quite deceived her, and she went up to London to have itsfalsity demonstrated by a dentist. Since the collapse of Yoga and theflight of the curry-cook, she had embarked on no mystical adventure,and she starved for some new fad. Then when her first visit to thedentist was over (the tooth required three treatments) and she went toa vegetarian restaurant to see if there was anything enlightening to begot out of that, she was delighted to find herself sitting at a verysmall table with a very communicative lady who ate cabbages inperfectly incredible quantities. She had a round pale face like themoon behind the clouds, enormous eyebrows that almost met over hernose, and a strange low voice, of husky tone, and a pronunciation quiteas foreign as Signor Cortese's. She wore some very curious rings withlarge engraved amethysts and turquoises in them, and since in the firstmoments of their conversation she had volunteered the information thatvegetarianism was the only possible diet for any who were cultivatingtheir psychical powers, Mrs Quantock asked her if these weirdfinger-ornaments had any mystical signification. They had; one wasGnostic, one was Rosicrucian, and the other was Cabalistic.... It iseasy to picture Mrs Quantock's delight; adventure had met her withsmiling mouth and mysterious eyes. In the course of an animatedconversation of half an hour, the lady explained that if Mrs Quantockwas, like her, a searcher after psychical truths, and cared to come toher flat at half-past four that afternoon, she would try to help her.She added with some little diffidence that the fee for a seance was aguinea, and, as she left, took a card out of a case, encrusted withglowing rubies, and gave it her. That was the Princess Popoffski.

  Now here was a curious thing. For the last few evenings at Riseholme,Mrs Quantock had been experimenting with a table, and found that itcreaked and tilted and tapped in the most encouraging way when she andRobert laid their hands on it. Then something--whatever it was thatmoved the table--had indicated by raps that her name was Daisy and hisRobert, as well as giving them other information, which could not soeasily be verified. Robert had grown quite excited about it, and wasvexed that the seances were interrupted by his wife's expedition toLondon. But now how providential that was. She had walked straight fromthe dentist into the arms of Princess Popoffski.

  It was barely half-past four when Mrs Quantock arrived at thePrincess's flat, in a pleasant quiet side street off Charing CrossRoad. A small dapper little gentleman received her, who explained thathe was the Princess's secretary, and conducted her through severalsmall rooms into the presence of the Sybil. These rooms, so MrsQuantock thrillingly noticed, were dimly lit by oil lamps that stood infront of shrines containing images of the great spiritual guides fromMoses down to Madame Blavatski, a smell of incense hung about, therewere vases of flowers on the tables, and strange caskets set withwinking stones. In the last of these rooms the Princess was seated, andfor the moment Mrs Quantock hardly recognised her, for she wore ablue robe, which left her massive arms bare, and up them writhedserpent-shaped bracelets of many coils. She fixed her eyes on MrsQuantock, as if she had never seen her before, and made no sign ofrecognition.

  "The Princess has been meditating," said the secretary in a whisper."She'll come to herself presently."

  For a moment meditation unpleasantly reminded Mrs Quantock of the Guru,but nothing could have been less like that ill-starred curry-cook thanthis majestic creature. Eventually she gave a great sigh and came outof her meditation.

  "Ah, it is my friend," she said. "Do you know that you have a purplehalo?"

  This was very gratifying, especially when it was explained that onlythe most elect had purple halos, and soon other elect souls assembledfor the seance. In the centre of the table was placed a musical box anda violin, and hardly had the circle been made, and the lights turneddown, when the most extraordinary things began to happen. A perfectstorm of rappings issued from the table, which began to rock violently,and presently there came peals of laughter in a high voice, and thosewho had been here before said that it was Pocky. He was a dear naughtyboy, so Mrs Quantock's neighbour explained to her, so full of fun, andwhen on earth had been a Hungarian violinist. Still invisible, Pockywished them all much laughter and joy, and then suddenly said "'Ullo,'ullo, 'ere's a new friend. I like her," and Mrs Quantock's neighbour,with a touch of envy in her voice, told her that Pocky clearly meanther. Then Pocky said that they had been having heavenly music on theother side that day, and that if the new friend would say "Please" hewould play them some of it.

  So Mrs Quantock, trembling with emotion, said "Please, Pocky," andinstantly he began to play on the violin the spirit tune which he hadjust been playing on the other side. After that, the violin clatteredback onto the middle of the table again, and Pocky, blowing showers ofkisses to them all, went away amid peals of happy laughter.

  Silence fell, and then a deep bass voice said, "I am coming, Amadeo!"and out of the middle of the table appeared a faint luminousness. Itgrew upwards and began to take form. Swathes of white muslin shapedthemselves in the darkness, and there appeared a white face, in amongthe topmost folds of the muslin, with a Roman nose and a melancholyexpression. He was not gay like Pocky, but he was intensely impressive,and spoke some lines in Italian, when asked to repeat a piece of Dante.Mrs Quantock knew they were Italian, because she recognised "notte" and"uno" and "caro," familiar words on Lucia's lips.

  The seance came to an end, and Mrs Quantock having placed a guinea withthe utmost alacrity in a sort of offertory plate which the Princess'ssecretary negligently but prominently put down on a table in one of theother rooms, waited to arrange for another seance. But mostunfortunately the Princess was leaving town next day on a much neededholiday, for she had been giving three seances a day for the last twomonths and required rest.

  "Yes, we're off tomorrow, the Princess and I," said he, "for a week atthe Royal Hotel at Brinton. Pleasant bracing air, always sets her up.But after that she'll be back in town. Do you know that part of thecountry?"

  Daisy could hardly believe her ears.

  "Brinton?" she said. "I live close to Brinton."

  Her whole scheme flashed completely upon her, even as Athene sprangfull-grown from the brain of Zeus.

  "Do you think that she might be induced to spend a few days with me atRiseholme?" she said. "My husband and I are so much interested inpsychical things. You would be our guest, too, I hope. If she restedfor a few days at Brinton first? If she came on to me afterwards? Andthen if she was thoroughly rested, perhaps she would give us a seanceor two. I don't know--"

  Mrs Quantock felt a great diffidence in speaking of guineas in the samesentence with Princesses, and had to make another start.

  "If she were thoroughly rested," she said, "and if a little circleperhaps of four, at the usual price would be worth her while. Justafter dinner, you know, and nothing else to do all day but rest. Thereare pretty drives and beautiful air. All very quiet, and I think I maysay more comfortable than the hotel. It would be such a pleasure."

  Mrs Quantock heard the clinking of bracelets from the room where thePrincess was still reposing, and there she stood in the door, lookingunspeakably majestic, but very gracious. So Mrs Quantock put herproposition before her, the secretary coming to the rescue on thesubject of the usual fees, and when two days afterwards Mrs Quantockreturned to Riseholme, it was to get ready the spare room and Robert'sroom next to it for these thrilling visitors, whose first seanceGeorgie and Piggy had attended, on the evening of the Italiandebacle....

&nbs
p; The Quantocks had taken a high and magnificent line about the "usualfees" for the seances, an expensive line, but then Roumanian oils hadbeen extremely prosperous lately. No mention whatever of these fees wasmade to their guests, no offertory-plate was put in a prominentposition in the hall, there was no fumbling for change or the discreetpressure of coins into the secretary's hand; the entire cost was borneby Roumanian oils. The Princess and Mrs Quantock, apparently, were oldfriends; they spoke to each other at dinner as "dear friend," and thePrincess declared in the most gratifying way that they had been mostintimate in a previous incarnation, without any allusion to the factthat in this incarnation they had met for the first time last week at avegetarian restaurant. She was kind enough, it was left to beunderstood, to give a little seance after dinner at the house of her"dear friend," and so, publicly, the question of money never came up.

  Now the Princess was to stay three nights, and therefore, as soon asMrs Quantock had made sure of that, she proceeded to fill up each ofthe seances without asking Lucia to any of them. It was not that shehad not fully forgiven her for her odious grabbing of the Guru, for shehad done that on the night of the Spanish quartette; it was rather thatshe meant to make sure that there would by no possibility be anythingto forgive concerning her conduct with regard to the Princess. Luciacould not grab her and so call Daisy's powers of forgiveness into playagain, if she never came near her, and Daisy meant to take properprecautions that she should not come near her. Accordingly Georgie andPiggy were asked to the first seance (if it did not go very well, itwould not particularly matter with them), Olga and Mr Shuttleworth werebidden to the second, and Lady Ambermere with Georgie again to thethird. This--quite apart from the immense interest of psychicphenomena--was deadly work, for it would be bitter indeed to Lucia toknow, as she most undoubtedly would, that Lady Ambermere, who had cuther so firmly, was dining twice and coming to a seance. Daisy, it mustagain be repeated, had quite forgiven Lucia about the Guru, but Luciamust take the consequences of what she had done.

  It was after the first seance that the frenzy for spiritualism seizedRiseholme. The Princess with great good-nature, gave some furtherexhibitions of her psychical power in addition to the seances, and evenas Georgie the next afternoon was receiving Lucia's cruel verdict aboutDebussy, the Sybil was looking at the hands of Colonel Boucher and MrsWeston, and unerringly probing into their past, and lifting the cornerof the veil, giving them both glimpses into the future. She knew thatthe two were engaged for that she had learned from Mrs Quantock in hermorning's drive, and did not attempt to conceal the fact, but how couldit be accounted for that looking impressively from the one to theother, she said that a woman no longer young but tall, and with fairhair had crossed their lives and had been connected with one of themfor years past? It was impossible to describe Elizabeth more accuratelythan that, and Mrs Weston in high excitement confessed that her maidwho had been with her for fifteen years entirely corresponded with whatthe Princess had seen in her hand. After that it took only a moment'sfurther scrutiny for the Princess to discover that Elizabeth was goingto be happy too. Then she found that there was a man connected withElizabeth, and Colonel Boucher's hand, to which she transferred hergaze, trembled with delightful anticipation. She seemed to see a manthere; she was not quite sure, but was there a man who perhaps had beenknown to him for a long time? There was. And then by degrees theaffairs of Elizabeth and Atkinson were unerringly unravelled. It waslittle wonder that the Colonel pushed Mrs Weston's bath-chair withrecord speed to "Ye signe of ye daffodil," and by the greatest goodluck obtained a copy of the "Palmist's Manual."

  At another of these informal seances attended by Goosie and MrsAntrobus, even stranger things had happened, for the Princess's hands,as they held a little preliminary conversation, began to tremble andtwitch even more strongly than Colonel Boucher's, and Mrs Quantockhastily supplied her with a pencil and a quantity of sheets of foolscappaper, for this trembling and twitching implied that Reschia, anancient Egyptian priestess, was longing to use the Princess's hand forautomatic writing. After a few wild scrawls and plunges with thepencil, the Princess, though she still continued to talk to them,covered sheet after sheet in large flowing handwriting. This, when itwas finished and the Princess sunk back in her chair, proved to be themost wonderful spiritual discourse, describing the happiness andharmony which pervaded the whole universe, and was only temporarilyobscured by the mists of materiality. These mists were wholly withdrawnfrom the vision of those who had passed over. They lived in the midstof song and flowers and light and love.... Towards the end there was aless intelligible passage about fire from the clouds. It was renderedcompletely intelligible the very next day when there was athunderstorm, surely an unusual occurrence in November. If that had nothappened Mrs Quantock's interpretation of it, as referring toZeppelins, would have been found equally satisfactory. It was no wonderafter that, that Mrs Antrobus, Piggy and Goosie spent long eveningswith pencils and paper, for the Princess said that everybody had thegift of automatic writing, if they would only take pains and patienceto develop it. Everybody had his own particular guide, and it was thevery next day that Piggy obtained a script clearly signed AnnabelNicostratus and Jamifleg followed very soon after for her mother andsister, and so there was no jealousy.

  But the crown and apex of these manifestations was undoubtedly thethree regular seances which took place to the three select circlesafter dinner. Musical boxes resounded, violins gave forth ravishingairs, the sitters were touched by unseen fingers when everybody's handswere touching all around the table, and from the middle of itmaterialisations swathed in muslin were built up. Pocky came, visibleto the eye, and played spirit music. Amadeo, melancholy and impressive,recited Dante, and Cardinal Newman, not visible to the eye but audibleto the ear, joined in the singing "Lead, Kindly Light," which thesecretary requested them to encourage him with, and blessed themprofusely at the conclusion. Lady Ambermere was so much impressed, andso nervous of driving home alone, that she insisted on Georgie's goingback to the Hall with her, and consigning her person to Pug and MissLyall, and for the three days of the Princess's visit, there waspractically no subject discussed at the parliaments on the Green,except the latest manifestations. Olga went to town for a crystal, andGeorgie for a planchette, and Riseholme temporarily became aspiritualistic republic, with the Princess as priestess and MrsQuantock as President.

  Lucia, all this time, was almost insane with pique and jealousy, forshe sat in vain waiting for an invitation to come to a seance, andwould, long before the three days were over, have welcomed withenthusiasm a place at one of the inferior and informal exhibitions.Since she could not procure the Princess for dinner, she asked Daisy tobring her to lunch or tea or at any hour day or night which wasconvenient. She made Peppino hang about opposite Daisy's house, withorders to drop his stick, or let his hat blow off, if he saw even thesecretary coming out of the gate, so as possibly to enter intoconversation with him, while she positively forced herself one morninginto Daisy's hall, and cried "Margarita" in silvery tones. On thisoccasion Margarita came out of the drawing-room with a most determinedexpression on her face, and shut the door carefully behind her.

  "Dearest Lucia," she said, "how nice to see you! What is it?"

  "I just popped in for a chat," said she. "I haven't set eyes on yousince the evening of the Spanish quartette."

  "No! So long ago as that is it? Well, you must come in again sometimevery soon, won't you? The day after tomorrow I shall be much less busy.Promise to look in then."

  "You have a visitor with you, have you not?" asked Lucia desperately.

  "Yes! Two, indeed, dear friends of mine. But I am afraid you would notlike them. I know your opinion about anything connected withspiritualism, and--isn't it silly of us?--we've been dabbling in that."

  "Oh, but how interesting," said Lucia. "I--I am always ready to learn,and alter my opinions if I am wrong."

  Mrs Quantock did not move from in front of the drawing-room door.

  "Yes?" she said. "The
n we will have a great talk about it, when youcome to see me the day after tomorrow. But I know I shall find you hardto convince."

  She kissed the tips of her fingers in a manner so hopelessly final thatthere was nothing to do but go away.

  Then with poor generalship, Lucia altered her tactics, and went up tothe Village Green where Piggy was telling Georgie about the scriptsigned Annabel. This was repeated again for Lucia's benefit.

  "Wasn't it too lovely?" said Piggy. "So Annabel's my guide, and shewrites a hand quite unlike mine."

  Lucia gave a little scream, and put her fingers to her ears.

  "Gracious me!" she said. "What has come over Riseholme? Wherever I go Ihear nothing but talk of seances, and spirits, and automatic writing.Such a pack of nonsense, my dear Piggy. I wonder at a sensible girllike you."

  Mrs Weston, propelled by the Colonel, whirled up in her bath-chair.

  "'The Palmist's Manual' is too wonderful," she said, "and Jacob and Isat up over it till I don't know what hour. There's a break in his lineof life, just at the right place, when he was so ill in Egypt, which ismost remarkable, and when Tommy Luton brought round my bath-chair thismorning--I had it at the garden-door, because the gravel's just laid atmy front-door, and the wheels sink so far into it--'Tommy,' I said,'let me look at your hand a moment,' and there on his line of fate, wasthe little cross that means bereavement. It came just right didn't it,Jacob? when he was thirteen, for he's fourteen this year, and Mrs Lutondied just a year ago. Of course I didn't tell Tommy that, for I onlytold him to wash his hands, but it was most curious. And has yourplanchette come yet, Mr Georgie? I shall be most anxious to know whatit writes, so if you've got an evening free any night soon just comeround for a bit of dinner, and we'll make an evening of it, with tableturning and planchette and palmistry. Now tell me all about the seancethe first night. I wish I could have been present at a real seance, butof course Mrs Quantock can't find room for everybody, and I'm sure itwas most kind of her to let the Colonel and me come in yesterdayafternoon. We were thrilled with it, and who knows but that thePrincess didn't write the Palmist's Manual for on the title page itsays it's by P. and that might be Popoffski as easily as not, orperhaps Princess."

  This allusion to there not being room for everybody was agony to Lucia.She laughed in her most silvery manner.

  "Or, perhaps Peppino," she said. "I must ask _mio caro_ if hewrote it. Or does it stand for Pillson? Georgino, are you the author ofthe Palmist's Manual? Ecco! I believe it was you."

  This was not quite wise, for no one detested irony more than MrsWeston, or was sharper to detect it. Lucia should never have beenironical just then, nor indeed have dropped into Italian.

  "No" she said. "I'm sure it was neither Il Signer Peppino nor Il SignerPillson who wrote it. I believe it was the Principessa. So, ecco! Anddid we not have a delicious evening at Miss Bracely's the other night?Such lovely singing, and so interesting to learn that Signor Cortesemade it all up. And those lovely words, for though I didn't understandmuch of them, they sounded so exquisite. And fancy Miss Bracely talkingItalian so beautifully when we none of us knew she talked it at all."

  Mrs Weston's amiable face was crimson with suppressed emotion, of whichthese few words were only the most insignificant leakage, and a veryawkward pause succeeded which was luckily broken by everybody beginningto talk again very fast and brightly. Then Mrs Weston's chair scuddedaway; Piggy skipped away to the stocks where Goosie was sitting with alarge sheet of foolscap, in case her hand twitched for automaticscript, and Lucia turned to Georgie, who alone was left.

  "Poor Daisy!" she said. "I dropped in just now, and really I found hervery odd and strange. What with her crazes for Christian Science, andUric Acid and Gurus and Mediums, one wonders if she is quite sane. Sosad! I should be dreadfully sorry if she had some mental collapse; thatsort of thing is always so painful. But I know of a first-rate placefor rest-cures; I think it would be wise if I just casually dropped thename of it to Mr Robert, in case. And this last craze seems so terriblyinfectious. Fancy Mrs Weston dabbling in palmistry! It is too comical,but I hope I did not hurt her feelings by suggesting that Peppino oryou wrote the Manual. It is dangerous to make little jokes to poor MrsWeston."

  Georgie quite agreed with that, but did not think it necessary to sayin what sense he agreed with it. Every day now Lucia was pouring floodsof light on a quite new side of her character, which had beenundeveloped, like the print from some photographic plate lying in thedark so long as she was undisputed mistress of Riseholme. But, so itstruck him now, since the advent of Olga, she had taken up a criticalironical standpoint, which previously she had reserved for Londoners.At every turn she had to criticise and condemn where once she wouldonly have praised. So few months ago, there had been that marvellousHightum garden party, when Olga had sung long after Lady Ambermere hadgone away. That was her garden party; the splendour and success of ithad been hers, and no one had been allowed to forget that until Olgacame back again. But the moment that happened, and Olga began to singon her own account (which after all, so Georgie thought, she had aperfect right to do), the whole aspect of affairs was changed. Sheromped, and Riseholme did not like romps; she sang in church, and thatwas theatrical; she gave a party with the Spanish quartette, andBrinton was publicly credited with the performance. Then had come MrsQuantock and her Princess, and, lo, it would be kind to remember thename of an establishment for rest-cures, in the hope of saving poorDaisy's sanity. Again Colonel Boucher and Mrs Weston were intending toget married, and consulted a Palmist's Manual, so they too helped todevelop as with acid the print that had lain so long in the dark.

  "Poor thing!" said Lucia, "it is dreadful to have no sense of humour,and I'm sure I hope that Colonel Boucher will thoroughly understandthat she has none before he speaks the fatal words. But then he hasnone either, and I have often noticed that two people without any senseof humour find each other most witty and amusing. A sense of humour, Iexpect, is not a very common gift; Miss Bracely has none at all, for Ido not call romping humour. As for poor Daisy, what can rival hersolemnity in sitting night after night round a table with someone whomay or may not be a Russian princess--Russia of course is a very largeplace, and one does not know how many princesses there may bethere--and thrilling over a pot of luminous paint and a false nose andcalling it Amadeo the friend of Dante."

  This was too much for Georgie.

  "But you asked Mrs Quantock and the Princess to dine with you," hesaid, "and hoped there would be a seance afterwards. You wouldn't havedone that, if you thought it was only a false nose and a pot ofluminous paint."

  "I may have been impulsive," said Lucia speaking very rapidly. "Idaresay I'm impulsive, and if my impulses lie in the direction ofextending such poor hospitality as I can offer to my friends, and theirfriends, I am not ashamed of them. Far otherwise. But when I see andobserve the awful effect of this so-called spiritualism on people whomI should have thought sensible and well-balanced--I do not include poordear Daisy among them--then I am only thankful that my impulses did nothappen to lead me into countenancing such piffle, as your sister sotruly observed about POOR Daisy's Guru."

  They had come opposite Georgie's house, and suddenly his drawing-roomwindow was thrown up. Olga's head looked out.

  "Don't have a fit, Georgie, to find me here" she said. "Good morning,Mrs Lucas; you were behind the mulberry, and I didn't see you. Butsomething's happened to my kitchen range, and I can't have lunch athome. Do give me some. I've brought my crystal, and we'll gaze andgaze. I can see nothing at present except my own nose and the window.Are you psychical, Mrs Lucas?"

  This was the last straw; all Lucia's grievances had been flockingtogether like swallows for their flight, and to crown all came thisopen annexation of Georgie. There was Olga, sitting in his window, allunasked, and demanding lunch, with her silly ridiculous crystal in herhand, wondering if Lucia was psychical.

  Her silvery laugh was a little shrill. It started a full tone above itsnormal pitch.

  "No, dear
Miss Bracely," she said. "I am afraid I am much toocommonplace and matter-of-fact to care about such things. It is agreat loss I know, and deprives me of the pleasant society of Russianprincesses. But we are all made differently; that is very lucky. I mustget home, Georgie."

  It certainly seemed very lucky that everyone was not precisely likeLucia at that moment, or there would have been quarrelling.

  She walked quickly off, and Georgie entered his house. Lucia had reallybeen remarkably rude, and, if allusion was made to it, he was ready toconfess that she seemed a little worried. Friendship would allow that,and candour demanded it. But no allusion of any sort was made. Therewas a certain flush on Olga's face, and she explained that she had beensitting over the fire.

  The Princess's visit came to an end next day, and all the world knewthat she was going back to London by the 11.00 a.m. express. LadyAmbermere was quite aware of it, and drove in with Pug and Miss Lyall,meaning to give her a lift to the station, leaving Mrs Quantock, if shewanted to see her guest off, to follow with the Princess's luggage inthe fly which, no doubt, had been ordered. But Daisy had no intentionof permitting this sort of thing, and drove calmly away with her dearfriend in Georgie's motor, leaving the baffled Lady Ambermere to followor not as she liked. She did like, though not much, and found herselfon the platform among a perfect crowd of Riseholmites who had strolleddown to the station on this lovely morning to see if parcels had come.Lady Ambermere took very little notice of them, but managed that Pugshould give his paw to the Princess as she took her seat, and waved herhand to Mrs Quantock's dear friend, as the train slid out of thestation.

  "The late lord had some Russian relations," she said majestically. "Howdid you get to know her?"

  "I met her at Potsdam" was on the tip of Mrs Quantock's tongue, but shewas afraid that Lady Ambermere might not understand, and ask her whenshe had been to Potsdam. It was grievous work making jokes for LadyAmbermere.

  The train sped on to London, and the Princess opened the envelope whichher hostess had discreetly put in her hand, and found that _that_was all right. Her hostess had also provided her with an admirablelunch, which her secretary took out of a Gladstone bag. When that wasfinished, she wanted her cigarettes, and as she looked for these, andeven after she had found them, she continued to search for somethingelse. There was the musical box there, and some curious pieces ofelastic, and the violin was in its case, and there was a white mask.But she still continued to search....

  About the same time as she gave up the search, Mrs Quantock wanderedupstairs to the Princess's room. A less highly vitalised nature thanhers would have been in a stupor of content, but she was more in afrenzy of content than in a stupor. How fine that frenzy was may bejudged from the fact that perhaps the smallest ingredient in it was herutter defeat of Lucia. She cared comparatively little for that gloriousachievement, and she was not sure that when the Princess came backagain, as she had arranged to do on her next holiday, she would not askLucia to come to a seance. Indeed she had little but pity for thevanquished, so great were the spoils. Never had Riseholme risen to sucha pitch of enthusiasm, and with good cause had it done so now, for ofall the wonderful and exciting things that had ever happened there,these seances were the most delirious. And better even than theexcitement of Riseholme was the cause of its excitement, forspiritualism and the truth of inexplicable psychic phenomena hadflashed upon them all. Tableaux, romps, Yoga, the Moonlight Sonata,Shakespeare, Christian Science, Olga herself, Uric Acid, Elizabethanfurniture, the engagement of Colonel Boucher and Mrs Weston, all thesetremendous topics had paled like fire in the sunlight before therevelation that had now dawned. By practice and patience, by zealousconcentration on crystals and palms, by the waiting for automaticscript to develop, you attained to the highest mysteries, and couldevoke Cardinal Newman, or Pocky....

  There was the bed in which the Sybil had slept; there was the freshvase of flowers, difficult to procure in November, but stillobtainable, which she loved to have standing near her. There was thechest of drawers in which she had put her clothes, and Mrs Quantockpulled them open one by one, finding fresh emanations and vibrationseverywhere. The lowest one stuck a little, and she had to use force toit....

  The smile was struck from her face, as it flew open. Inside it werebillows and billows of the finest possible muslin. Fold after fold ofit she drew out, and with it there came a pair of false eyebrows. Sherecognised them at once as being Amadeo's. The muslin belonged to Pockyas well.

  She needed but a moment's concentrated thought, and in swift successionrejected two courses of action that suggested themselves. The first wasto use the muslin herself; it would make summer garments for years. Thechief reason against that was that she was a little old for muslin. Thesecond course was to send the whole paraphernalia back to her dearfriend, with or without a comment. But that would be tantamount to adirect accusation of fraud. Never any more, if she did that, could shedispense her dear friend to Riseholme like an expensive drug. She wouldnot so utterly burn her boats. There remained only one other judiciouscourse of action, and she got to work.

  It had been a cold morning, clear and frosty, and she had caused a goodfire to be lit in the Princess's bedroom, for her to dress by. It stillprospered in the grate, and Mrs Quantock, having shut the door andlocked it, put on to it the false eyebrows, which, as they turned toash, flew up the chimney. Then she fed it with muslin; yards and yardsof muslin she poured on to it; never had there been so much muslin northat so exquisitely fine. It went to her heart to burn it, but therewas no time for minor considerations; every atom of that evidence mustbe purged by fire. The Princess would certainly not write and say thatshe had left some eyebrows and a hundred yards of muslin behind her,for, knowing what she did, it would be to her interests as well as MrsQuantock's that those properties should vanish, as if they never hadbeen.

  Up the chimney in sheets of flame went this delightful fabric;sometimes it roared there, as if it had set the chimney on fire, andshe had to pause, shielding her scorched face, until the hollowrumbling had died down. But at last the holocaust was over, and sheunlocked the door again. No one knew but she, and no one should everknow. The Guru had turned out to be a curry-cook, but no intrudingHermy had been here this time. As long as crystals fascinated andautomatic writing flourished, the secret of the muslin and the eyebrowsshould repose in one bosom alone. Riseholme had been electrified byspiritualism, and, even now, the seances had been cheap at the price,and in spite of this discovery, she felt by no means sure that shewould not ask the Princess to come again and minister to theirspiritual needs.

  She had hardly got downstairs when Robert came in from the Green, wherehe had been recounting the experiences of the last seance.

  "Looked as if there was a chimney on fire," he said. "I wish it was thekitchen chimney. Then perhaps the beef mightn't be so raw as it wasyesterday."

  Thus is comedy intertwined with tragedy!