The Tyranny of the Dark Part 22

Morton started--stared. "No! Not a public challenge."

"Isn't it pitiful? Yes, he's going to speak on the second of next month at the Spirit Temple, and he's going to publicly describe Viola's powers, and, as her manager, challenge the world to prove her false."

As Morton's mind flashed over the consequences of this challenge, his face paled. "Good G.o.d, what an ordeal! But the girl, does she consent?"

"She does and she doesn't. As a sweet, nice child she shrinks from it; but as a 'psychic,' as they call her, she has no choice. These inner forces seem able to take her by the throat any minute. They seized her while I was there. Morton, she impersonated Aunt Dosia, and delivered the most vindictive message--she scared me blue. You never saw anything more dramatic--more awful."

"What was the message?"

"Something about a debt she wanted us to pay. She was furious about it. I don't know of any debt; do you?"

"No. How did the message come?"

As Kate described it, the impersonation grew grotesque, lost much of its power to horrify, and Morton, though he writhed at thought of the girl's depravity, blamed the mother and Clarke for it. Kate made end by saying: "It _was_ horrible to see, and it startled me. Then the other messages, those written ones, came through her hand--"

"Automatic writing, they call it. That has no value--none whatever.

The whole programme was arranged for your benefit."

"No, it wasn't. The girl was carried out of herself. She is somehow enslaved by Clarke, and she wants help. She wants to be investigated; but she wants it done privately. She wants you to do it. She begs you to do it."

"Begs me?" His eyebrows lifted.

"Yes, she pa.s.sionately desires your advice. The poor thing made an appeal that would have touched your heart. She wants to be cured of this horrid thing--whatever it is. She wants to escape from Pratt and Clarke and all the rest of those queer people. You must take it up, Morton. _You_ must make up a committee and take charge of her."

"Clarke is mad. No reputable man of science will go on such a committee. The girl will fall into the hands of notoriety-seekers--men of position do not meddle with such questions."

Kate flared forth. "Why don't they? It is their duty just as much as it is Viola's duty to offer herself. That is where I lose patience with you men of science. Why _don't_ you meet these people half-way?

Women wouldn't be such bigots--such cowards. If you don't help this poor girl I'll consider you a bigot and coward with the rest."

"Your whole position is most feminine," said Morton, arguing as much against himself as against Kate. "You've only seen this girl once--you have witnessed only one of her performances, and yet you are ready to champion her before the world. I wish you'd tell me how you arrived at a conviction of her honesty. Think of it! She a.s.sumes to be the mouth-piece of the dead. The very a.s.sumption is a discredit."

"I don't care; she has good, honest, sweet eyes."

"I bow to the force of the eyes, but over against her claim I put the denials of science. The phenomena these fanatics base their hopes upon science has already proven to be tricks, illusions, deceits."

"I don't care, her story, her own att.i.tude towards the thing, convinced me that she is _honest_."

"It's the rogue who looks like a gentleman who runs the longest race."

"Well," ended Kate, rather helplessly, "see her--see her before you condemn her."

"But I _have_ seen her--I've spent more days in her company than you have hours."

Kate looked at him with new interest. "You didn't tell me that before.

You said you'd met her casually."

"She is enormously interesting, but"--his voice changed to earnest protest--"but, Kate, the thing the girl claims to be is out of key with all organized human knowledge. It is a survival of the past. It belongs to a world of dreams and portents. It is of a piece with the old crone's tales, fortune-telling, palmistry, and all the rest of the hodge-podge or hocus-pocus which makes up the world of the unlearned.

I've given a great deal of thought to her fate. My heart bleeds for her, but what can I do? She really needs the care of a great physician, like Tolman. She should be s.n.a.t.c.hed from her unwholesome surroundings and sent away to Europe or back to her hills. When I saw her last she was as sweet and blithe as a bobolink--we were on the trail together, so far above the miasma of humankind that her girlhood seemed uncontaminated by any death-affrighted soul. Why don't she go back? She is vigorous and experienced in travel. Her step-father is not poor; he is rich. Why don't she pull away and go back to her valley?"

"Do you know what a 'control' is?"

"I believe that is the name they give the particular spirits which a.s.sume to advise and guide a medium. Why?"

"Well, that poor thing is in mortal terror of her 'control,' who is her grandfather. She was quite defiant till Clarke reminded her that her guide would cut her down in her tracks if she refused. Then she wilted--went right off into death-like sleep. It was pitiful to see her. Clarke was terrible when he said it--he is a regular Svengali, I believe, and the mother is completely dominated by him. One of the spooks is her own father, the other her first husband. It seems that they are willing to sacrifice the girl to _their_ science, for it seems they are leagued to dig a hole through to us from their side, and Viola is their avenue of communication. Then, too, the girl believes in it all. She rebels at times, but she has been having these trances ever since she was ten years old." As the memory of the mother's tale freshened, Kate changed her tone. "You needn't tell me, Morton Serviss, that these people are frauds. They may be mistaken, but they're horribly in earnest. They believe in those spirits as you do in germs, and Viola is absolutely helpless in their hands, if you can say they have hands. They can throw her into a trance at any moment. They've made her life a misery. She is absolutely enslaved to them."

"That, too, could be a delusion--medical science is full of cases of auto-hypnotism."

"Viola Lambert is not a medical case. It's astonis.h.i.+ng what a blooming beauty she is in the midst of it all. In fact, her health gives Clarke and the mother an argument--they say 'it hasn't hurt her, you see.' But what future has the poor girl? Think of going through life in that way!"

Morton's eyes were sad as he said: "Her future is a dark one, from our point of view, but she may be earning a crown to be given in the land of shadows. She is beautiful, but it is the beauty of a blighted flower."

Kate regarded him with affectionate eyes. "I don't wonder that she has bewitched you, Morton. She can never be anything to you, of course.

But we must help her, just the same, and I confess I am crazy to see one of her 'performances,' as you call them." Her face lightened. "How would it do to invite them to dinner and have a seance afterwards? You could judge then of her truth."

"Sacrifice her to make _our_ holiday, eh? Kate, I thought better of you than that. Isn't that precisely the poor girl's complaint that everybody wants to use her as a sort of telephone connection with the other world? No. If you invite her here, receive her as a lady, not as a pervert. But, now, let us see. You say Clarke is going to issue his challenge soon?"

"On the second."

"And that she has consented?"

"Consented? Poor thing, she has no choice."

"If he issues that challenge, she is lost." His brows knitted. "To defy the world of science in that way will make her fair game for every charlatan in the city. The press will unite to destroy her. I will see Clarke and Pratt myself. For the sake of their own cause they must not enter on such a foolish plan. Unless this life has already eaten deep into the essential purity of the girl's nature, she will be corrupted. This public-test business will drive her into all kinds of artifices and s.h.i.+fts. Her exposure will be swift and sure. Yes, I will see Clarke. If necessary I will undertake to secure a purely private investigation of her claims--"

Kate rose and came round to his chair. "Will you? Oh, that will be good of you, Mort. I can't begin to tell you how that girl's face has worked on me to-day. I feel that it would be criminal in you not to do something when she expects it of you. She looks to us to save her. She pa.s.sionately desires your help. Go over there to-morrow. Don't delay; they may issue that challenge any minute. Clarke was angry and alarmed at my att.i.tude, and may send out the notice to-night. Do go, Morton.

You can't afford to stand on ceremony when a soul is in danger."

He rose. "Very well, I will go; but I never embarked on an enterprise that seemed more dangerous, more futile. My heart says go, but my reason is against it."

"Follow your heart in this instance."

"If I did that wholly, I would go straight to this dragon's den and s.n.a.t.c.h the fair maiden home to my castle."

"That would be romantic, but a little too daring, even for my enthusiasm."

"You may be rea.s.sured. No one really follows the heart in these days--at least, those who do land in jail Of the almshouse."

As he lit his cigar he observed that his hand trembled. For the first time in his life his nerves were over-charged and leaping with excitement just above control.

VII

THE SLEEPING SIBYL

The following evening, after much debate with himself, Serviss, armored in scientific reflection, set forth towards the unknown country wherefrom his sister had brought report of a maiden dwelling in the power of giants, pitiably ensnared by evil-minded enchanters.