The Spirit Murder Mystery Read Free Page B

window at the dark blue sky, now spangled with stars. A vague sense of mystery and wonder stole into his musing. From the particular, his thoughts broadened out to the general. The universe was altogether inexplicable, even to science. How and why did it begin? Whither was it progressing? Where and how would it all end? What relation did this earth and its teeming millions of lives bear to that star-scattered space? Was that vast ethereal sweep peopled by the spirits of all past time? Futile questionings! He turned to his niece and asked: “Shall I put out the light?”
    â€œCertainly, Uncle. For some unknown reason, darkness seems to favour any kind of manifestation. All spiritualists agree on that score. I daresay there’s some natural law behind it. When you’ve done so, sit perfectly still and listen. I’m going to try and get in touch with what is called a spirit guide. I ought to have a spirit guide; all mediums have.”
    John Thurlow rose from his chair, pressed up the switch on the wall at his left hand, and sat down again. When his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he could vaguely discern the various pieces of furniture about the room, and, glancing at his niece, he saw her form clearly outlined by the white organdie muslin dress she was wearing. That dress seemed almost luminous as it caught the faint light filtering in through the windows. Her pale face was a grey smudge above the dress.
    â€œAre you all right, Eileen?” he asked.
    â€œYes. Let’s begin. Try and keep your mind quite free from any distracting train of thought. You’ll find it difficult. Now please don’t talk any more.”
    John Thurlow settled himself in his chair and tried to keep his mind quite free from distracting trains of thought. Yes, it was more difficult than he had surmised. His right hand, in his jacket pocket, was fondling the smooth bowl of his briar pipe, and a strong desire to smoke assailed him. Under the urge, he was on the point of asking Eileen whether smoking would militate against favourable conditions, when his attention was suddenly arrested by his niece’s heavy, stertorous breathing. He was on the point of asking her if she were all right, but remembered her strict injunctions against speaking and desisted. He sat and listened to that laboured inhalation and exhalation for some moments and wondered if she had gone into the trance state usual with mediums. He was beginning to feel decidedly nervous. Everything was so still and eerie, and he was slowly being overcome by a strong conviction that at any moment some uncanny manifestation might occur, some horror materialize before his eyes. He resolved to keep a firm control over himself and all his faculties alert. He would confront any such wonder in a true scientific spirit of observation. He must not allow himself to be disturbed or thwarted by such an infantile thing as fear. What was there to be afraid of, in any case? Eileen was certainly complete mistress of herself. No trace of fear in her behaviour! But perhaps she was now quite unconscious, in that cataleptic state which is the usual trance of the medium.
    He listened again to her breathing. It was painfully heavy, but now quite rhythmic. Had she fallen asleep? He couldn’t resist the impulse to ask her.
    â€œYou awake, Eileen?” he queried in a whisper.
    â€œYes, wide awake. Listen attentively!” came the reply in a strained voice, quite unlike Eileen’s.
    John Thurlow experienced a sudden and sharp insurgence of fear. He felt his skin creep and was quite certain that his hair was standing on end. With a supreme effort, he controlled himself and obeyed the summons to listen attentively. Some minutes passed without anything happening. A clock in another room chimed sweetly and faintly in the almost oppressive silence. Then, all at once, very faint strains of music seemed to hover and quiver in the darkened room. They were full of haunting melody