SIX

Two days later Caroline sat in the last row of the lecture hall and watched the stage as the gas lights were lowered in a dramatic fashion.

The room was plunged into deep gloom. The only area that remained well lit was the empty stage. There a single lamp glowed with a ghostly light, illuminating a table and chair. The sparse crowd hushed in anticipation.

Caroline noted that she had almost the entire row of chairs to herself. It seemed that Irene Toller had been over-shadowed one last time by her dead rival. Here at Wintersett House, the news of Elizabeth Delmont's murder had captured the interest of everyone involved in psychical re-search. The halls and corridors of the aging mansion hummed with speculation and gossip. With so much excitement going on, very few people had elected to attend Irene Toller's demonstration of spirit writing.

The abrupt, theatrical darkening of the room had a disturbing effect on Caroline's senses. It was as though invisible fingers had brushed the nape of her neck. An unnerving awareness feathered her nerves. She could literally feel an unseen presence closing in upon her.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Fordyce," the man who had called himself Adam Grove said very softly from a point just behind her right shoulder. "This is certainly a coincidence of amazing, one might even say metaphysical. pro-portions. Would you mind if I took the seat next to yours?"

She started so violently it was all she could do not to leap out of the chair. Indeed, she was barely able to stifle a small shriek.

"Mr. Grove" Breathless from the shock he had just given her and thoroughly annoyed by her own reaction, she gave him a repressing glare. The effect was no doubt lost on him due to the shadows here at the back of the room. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"The same thing you are, I suspect" He moved in front of her, obviously aiming for the neighboring seat although she had not invited him to take it. "Thought it might prove instructive to observe Irene Toller's demonstration of spirit writing."

"You followed me," she accused, whisking her skirts out of his path.

"No, as a matter of fact, I did not." He lowered himself into the chair beside her. "But somehow I am not unduly surprised to discover that our paths have crossed again."

"I do not converse with strange gentlemen to whom I have not been properly introduced," she said in her iciest tones.

"Right, I forgot." He settled comfortably into the seat.

"I did not give you my real name when I called on you the other morning, did I?"

"In point of fact, you deceived me, sir."

"Yes, well, all I can say is that I thought it was for your own good at the time. But since fate has taken a hand in this affair, I may as well introduce myself properly. Adam Hardesty, at your service."

"Why should I assume that you are telling me the truth this time?"

"I shall be happy to offer proof of my identity, if you re-quire it."

She ignored that. "You came here today because you found out that Mrs. Toller may have had a motive for murdering Mrs. Delmont, didn't you?"

"You evidently heard the same rumors."

"The rivalry between the two is common knowledge here at Wintersett House."

"I expect that it was curiosity that led you to pursue the matter." He shook his head. "Has no one ever warned you of the dangers of that particular vice?"

"I admit that I am by nature a curious person, Mr. Hardesty, but as it happens, it was not curiosity that brought me here today."

"No? Then may I ask what cork-brained notion made you decide to investigate a case of murder on your own? This affair is no longer any concern of yours."

"Unfortunately, I cannot be certain of that," she said coolly. "I thought it only prudent to look into the matter personally."

"The devil you say." He folded his arms. "How can you label such an action prudent? It is reckless, foolish and potentially dangerous."

"I had little choice. The situation is already extremely dangerous, in my opinion. It is obvious that you are a very relentless and determined man. After you left my house it occurred to me that if you do not turn up a satisfactory villain, you may decide to revert to your original theory, the one that points the finger of suspicion at my aunts and me"

There was a short, tense pause while he absorbed that. She could tell that he was not pleased with her logic.

"I admit I tried to rattle you a bit," he conceded, "but I thought I made it clear that I am reasonably well satisfied that you and your aunts had nothing to do with the affair."

"Reasonably well satisfied does not sound all that certain to me. Now kindly cease carping. The demonstration is about to begin."

Adam went silent but she knew that he would have a great deal to say later. She made a note to escape the room as quickly as possible after Irene Toller concluded her exhibition.

A small man dressed in a dapper suit accented with a fashionable polka-dot shirt and a striped waistcoat walked out onto the stage. He cleared his throat.

"Mrs. Irene Toller will now give a demonstration of automatic writing," he announced.

There was some scattered, unenthusiastic applause.

A woman emerged from behind a curtain at the side of the stage. Caroline had seen Irene Toller from time to time in the halls of Wintersett House. The medium appeared to be in her early thirties. She was tall and striking in a sharp-featured way. Her dark hair was styled in a profusion of complicated braids coiled around her head.

Irene made her way to the table with a stately tread. In her hand she carried a device composed of a heart-shaped wooden platform supported by two casters and a vertical pencil. Caroline recognized the instrument as a planchette.

It had been invented several years earlier and was designed to allow the medium to write messages from the Other Side while in a trance.

"This would be mildly entertaining if it were not for the fact that murder has been done," Adam said in a low voice.

Irene Toller took her seat and placed the planchette on the table in front of her. She looked out at the small audience for the first time. Caroline was surprised by the forcefulness of the woman's grim gaze.

"Good afternoon," Irene said in a strong, resonant voice. "For the benefit of those of you who have never witnessed a demonstration of the planchette, I shall explain how the device operates. First, you must understand that there is a veil that separates this world from the realm where the spirits of the departed reside. Certain individuals such as myself are endowed with the ability to provide a conduit through that barrier. I am, in effect, only a channel—the medium—through which those who have gone before us can reach back into our mundane sphere."

An attentive stillness settled on the audience. Irene finally had the full attention of everyone present. She positioned the planchette above a sheet of paper and placed her fingertips upon the small wooden platform.

"I must first ready myself so that the spirits can make use of my hands for the purpose of writing out their messages," Irene continued. "When I have gone into the required trance, I will take questions from the audience. If the spirits choose to respond, they will make use of the planchette."

There was a murmur of anticipation. In spite of her own skepticism, Caroline found herself sitting forward slightly. "Be warned, however, that the spirits do not always answer the questions that are asked in these public sessions,"

Irene said. "They often insist that certain inquiries be made in a more private setting."

Adam leaned over to speak quietly into Caroline's ear. "It sounds as if she is drumming up business for the more expensive séances that she holds in her own home in the evenings."