The Come Back Read online

  CHAPTER VI

  Strange Revelations

  "Old man Crane's gone nutty," Shelby remarked.

  "Been going for some time," agreed Blair, and McClellan Thorpe noddedhis head decidedly.

  The three sat in the studio apartment occupied by Blair and Thorpe, whohad just returned from dining at their club.

  Shelby had come home with them, but was soon to leave to keep anengagement.

  "You'll scarcely believe what I'm up to to-night," Shelby went on, "I'mgoing to a _seance_ with Mr. Crane."

  "I say, Kit," remonstrated Thorpe, "I don't think you ought to encouragehim. He's daft enough on the subject now, and your approval makes himworse."

  "I'm trying to stop him," Shelby said, quietly. "I think if I go to thefool thing I can see how she works it and tell Mr. Crane, and he'll beconvinced of her trickery."

  "Are you convinced of it?" asked Thorpe.

  "I've never seen this one, but it's my opinion all professional mediumsare fakes," Shelby replied, seriously; "it may not be so, but I believeI can tell after one investigation. I shall pretend to be greatlyimpressed and all that, but I'll keep my eyes open. And I'm not going toupset Mr. Crane unnecessarily. But if I think she's just fooling himalong for the money that's in it, I'm going to tell him so."

  "Even at that," Blair put in, "maybe it's worth the money to him to befooled. He's rich enough."

  "Maybe. But I hate to see a man swindled. However, I've agreed to gowith him once, and I'm glad to go. Good-by, I'll report results later."

  "You see," Blair said to Thorpe after Shelby had gone, "Kit and I can'thelp feeling a sort of responsibility for this fad of Mr. Crane's. Itmay be foolish and sentimental, but we feel an interest in Peter'sfather, and we watch over him as if Peter had asked us to do so, which,of course, he never did."

  "But the medium business is such awful rubbish," objected Thorpe.

  "It is and it isn't," Blair said, musingly. "It's six weeks now since wecame home, and all that time Mr. Crane has been receiving messages fromPeter, and every one of them that I've heard are sane and believable.Moreover, Carlotta Harper has almost convinced me there's something init. That girl is a sort of medium herself. She denies it, says she onlyuses her common sense, but I think she's clairvoyant."

  "There's a heap of difference between being clairvoyant, in a commonsense way, and being a fake medium! I don't care what Miss Harper doeswith a foolish Ouija Board, but I'm like Kit Shelby, I hate to seeBenjamin Crane stung by a wily faker!"

  * * * * *

  Meantime Mr. Benjamin Crane was altogether enjoying the process thatThorpe called stinging.

  Shelby, deeply interested, and looking innocently credulous, sat bywhile the medium conducted the _seance_.

  Madame Parlato was, as Crane had asserted, a quiet-mannered, refinedlooking woman, of a gracious and pleasant personality. She was tall andfair, rather English in type, and spoke with a noticeable Englishaccent. She frequently ended sentences of simple statement with a risinginflection and was addicted to the use of the word _very_, which shepronounced _virry_.

  "You are a bit skeptical?" she said, with a careless glance at Shelby.

  "Only by reason of lack of occasions for belief," he returned. "I am,however, open-minded and fair-minded enough to be willingly convinced.You may or may not know, this son of Mr. Crane's was one of my closestfriends, and----"

  "Don't advance information, please," she remonstrated, "lest I bethought to make use of it. I will ask you both to be quiet, whilst Icompose myself."

  "Hush up, Shelby," growled Crane, and Shelby did.

  The medium closed her eyes and leaned back in her armchair.

  She did not seem to be asleep, but she breathed heavily and a trifleirregularly, and now and then gave a slight convulsive shudder.

  At last she spoke, very slowly, and in a voice decidedly different fromher own. Shelby couldn't quite make up his mind whether it seemed to himlike Peter's voice or not.

  The voice said, "I am here, father," and, after a moment's pause,repeated the words.

  "Yes, yes," breathed Benjamin Crane, enthralled, as always, by thesound; "talk to me, Peter, tell me things."

  "I can't talk much this time, father, it is hard to get through. Thereis some obstacle."

  These words did not follow each other in natural succession, but camehaltingly, with waits between. Madame Parlato seemed unconscious of thedelays, and merely acted as a mouthpiece for the revelations.

  "What sort of an obstacle?" asked Crane.

  "An unbeliever is near," the voice hesitatingly asserted.

  "Oh, I say!" exclaimed Shelby, "tell him who I am!"

  "It's only Shelby," Mr. Crane said, "Kit Shelby. He's not really anunbeliever, only inexperienced."

  "May I speak to him?" asked Shelby, as if permission were necessary.

  "Go ahead," consented Mr. Crane.

  "It's old Kit, Peter--Kit Shelby, who went on the trip with you."

  "Oh, Kit--all right--all right, old fellow--can't say muchto-night--something wrong----"

  "Well, but Peter," Shelby begged, "give me some sort of a sign--a test,you know. I can't help wanting that."

  "All right," very slowly, "what test."

  "Let me see--well, tell me whose picture you carried in your watchcase."

  "Why, it was--Caroline--Caroline Harper."

  Shelby looked dazed. True, they had never called Carly Caroline, but theHarper was undeniable, and the test quite near enough to the truth.

  The medium sat still, save for frequent slight shivers. Suddenly sheopened her eyes:

  "Who is talking?" she said.

  "I am," Shelby told her. "Please let me say a few more things."

  Madame Parlato's eyes closed, and she was motionless.

  "Are you still there, Peter?" asked his father, who was not at allpleased with the presence of Shelby. It seemed to interfere with thecontinuous talk he had hitherto enjoyed at the _seances_.

  "Yes, father. Is Kit there?"

  "Can't you see me, Peter?"

  "Not--not clearly. There's a haze in the room."

  There was no haze visible to the mortals present, but Shelby wenteagerly on.

  "Never mind seeing me, Peter, but do tell me this: What happened toyou?"

  "When?" asked the voice, with a far-away, fading sound.

  "When--when you died, you know. Oh, Peter, don't go away until you tellus!"

  "Tell you--tell you--what?"

  "What killed you? How was it? Did you fall down?"

  "I--I fell down, yes."

  "In the snowdrifts?"

  "Yes, the snow was so cold--"

  "But why couldn't you get up? What happened to you? Did any attack----"

  "Yes, I was attacked. Attacked by a----"

  "What!"

  "By a wild animal of some sort."

  "Oh, Peter! What was it? Are you sure?"

  "No, not sure--but attack by----"

  The voice grew fainter and more incoherent, and in a moment the mediumsat up straight and shook her head.

  "He was troubled," she said, "I could see him though you couldn't, andhe was sad and worried."

  "What about?" asked Shelby, abruptly.

  "I'm not sure, but I think because he didn't want to tell the awfuldetails of his death."

  "What were they? Could you see them?"

  "Yes," she pushed her loose hair back from her brow, as if exhausted."Yes, I saw it like a picture, but like a clouded, indistinct picture.The poor chap was fighting a wild beast! Oh, it was fearful!" she shuther eyes and shook her head violently. "That's the worst of it, I seetoo clearly."

  "Tell us more, then," begged Shelby. "How did Peter look?"

  "Glorious, transfigured! His face was shining and his eyes sparkling."

  "H'm--queer to look like that when he was so worried."

  "Oh, that was before the anxious look came. It is, I fear, difficult foryou to understand the conditions. The discarnate spirit has
a sort ofsecondary personality, not unlike a hypnotic state, and sometimes thisis jarred by any untoward influence and develops into a delirium, andthe statements cannot then be relied on. A novice always expects aclear, definite style of speech from a spirit communicating through amedium. This is not always the case. And the medium must merely takewhat comes and repeat it without change or addition. If, therefore, youare disappointed, I cannot help it. Surely you would not wish me toembroider the messages I receive."

  "Surely not," returned Shelby, "indeed, I think it wonderful that yousucceeded in getting as much coherence and information as you did. It issomething to know that Peter was attacked by a wild beast, for, horribleas is the news, it does explain why he couldn't proceed on the journey."

  "Yes," agreed Mr. Crane. "And I am so avid for word from my boy, thateven if the messages are disturbing and harrowing, I want them all. Ihave always told Madame Parlato not to spare me. I prefer to know theworst. For my boy is happy now. We have had several sittings; my wifehas attended some, and they are always comforting because of Peter'sassertions that he is now happy and contented."

  At Shelby's urgent request, the medium endeavored to induce Peter'sspirit to return for a further word.

  Her success was only partial, but they did hear a message to Shelbydirect.

  "Persevere, Kit," Peter said, "you're doing right in that matter. Goahead, Kit."

  "Your voice sounds queer, Peter," Shelby said, frowning a little. "Itused to be pitched in a higher key."

  "It's the medium," came a reply, and the pitch was higher. "I don't meanthe human medium, but the medium through which I must talk--the ether, Isuppose it is. Good-by, Kit."

  Madame Parlato then came out of her trance, or whatever term she used todesignate her half-conscious state.

  "The session is over," she said, pleasantly. "I fear, Mr. Crane, you didnot get your usual degree of satisfaction from it, but that was becauseof a third party here. I don't think Mr. Shelby's antagonistic exactly,but he's--well, uncertain whether to believe what he hears or not."

  "That's quite true, Madame," said Shelby, with due respect, "but you aredoubtless accustomed to people in my frame of mind."

  "Oh, yes," and the lady smiled a little, "but I trust, Mr. Shelby, youwill come some time by yourself and let me see what I can do to help youmake up your mind."

  "I shall be glad to do that. You have a strange power, at any rate."

  "Strange, yes; but by no means unique. There are minds tuned by natureto receive spirit messages, as wireless stations are tuned. I cannotexplain my strange power, I marvel at it myself, but I recognize it, andI use it humbly and gratefully as a God-given treasure."

  "And that's what it is!" declared Benjamin Crane. "I'm glad you cameto-night, Shelby, but, after this, I admit I prefer to come alone, orwith only my wife. The messages from Peter to his father are naturallymore of a loving and domestic nature, and I revel in them."

  "I don't wonder at that, Mr. Crane. And I congratulate you on havingfound such a capable and skillful medium."

  Madame Parlato gave Shelby a quick glance, almost as if doubting hissincerity. But his frank, honest face reassured her, and she said:

  "And, I'm proud to say, I'm not only a medium, but I am possessed of thepower that is called impersonation or transfiguration. This iscomparatively rare, and it enables me to perform what really seem likemiracles. I am taken possession of by the departed subject, and I speakand act so perfectly with that other personality that sometimes I evenresemble the person who is talking through me."

  "It is indeed wonderful," Shelby said, and Benjamin Crane looked happilycontemplative of the _seances_ in the future when Madame would utilizethis miraculous gift of hers in his behalf.

  * * * * *

  Shelby did go alone to see the medium, and it happened also that, abouta week later, going again, he chanced to meet Mr. Crane there. Theyounger man offered to leave, but Crane said, "No, come along. Madame isgoing to try to-night to materialize Peter's face, and I want you hereto see it."

  And so the strange _seance_ began.

  Materialization, of course, called for a darkened room, and Shelby'snaturally suspicious mind was alert for possible fraud.

  But he could discover no chance for such. There was no cabinet, notambourine, bell or trumpet, and no curtain was drawn or screen set up.

  After they had sat in darkness and silence for a time, a face seemed toform in mid-air. It was a misty, vague countenance, and was wrappedabout with a soft, floating drapery or veil, which exposed only thefeatures.

  "Peter!" exclaimed Benjamin Crane in a half-gasping voice. "My boyhimself!"

  "Peter Boots!" cried Shelby, and slowly the face vanished.

  Not another word was spoken, and in a moment the lights were turned on.This was done by Madame Parlato, at whose elbow the light switch was.

  "Did you see anything?" she asked, in an exhausted, harassed way, yetwith an air of eagerness.

  "Yes," cried out Crane. "I saw Peter, my own son!"

  "I couldn't be sure," she went on, speaking wearily. "It always exhaustsme utterly to induce a materialization, and I doubt if I can achieveanything more to-night."

  "Nor do you need to," declared Mr. Crane. "That's enough for one_seance_. Some time you may do that again, and also get speech fromhim."

  "May be," she rejoined, with a gentle politeness, "and now I should beglad to say good-night."

  The two men walked off, Crane in a tumult of delight, Shelby wonderingat it all.

  "You accept marvels very easily, Mr. Crane," the latter said.

  "Because they are marvels," said the older man simply. "If they werefraud it would be no marvel. But being genuine, it is a marvel, it is amiracle, and I am glad, rejoiced to accept it!"

  * * * * *

  It was soon after this that Shelby, calling on Carlotta Harper, askedher what she thought of it all.

  "Rubbish," she replied flatly.

  Shelby looked at her. "But," he said, "I've been told that you can workthe Ouija Board wonderfully!"

  "Work the Ouija Board! What sort of talk is that? Do you mean push it,to spell what I want it to?"

  "No; I spoke carelessly. I mean use the Board with results that aresurprising."

  "Who can't do that?"

  "Lots of people--myself, for one. Let's try it now, Carly. Will you?"

  "Certainly, if you like. And, if you'll give me your word of honor thatyou won't voluntarily or purposely urge the thing in any direction ortoward any letter."

  "Of course I promise that! Where'd be the fun if we cheated? Youpromise, too?"

  "Yes, indeed. Like you, I've no interest if either pushes the leastmite."

  They placed themselves with the board between them on their knees.

  It was but a short time before the little heart-shaped block began tomove.

  Carly, who was no novice, said in a sing-song way: "Is there a spiritpresent?"

  The board slid quickly to the corner marked "yes."

  "Will you spell out your name?" Carly went on in a very matter-of-factvoice.

  The pointer went from letter to letter, now hurriedly and now makingwide circling sweeps, but it spelled correctly "Peter Boots."

  Shelby kept most careful watch on Carly's finger-tips. He could see thatthere was no apparent muscle movement, no surreptitious pushing and nomotion of any sort save to follow the moving board. Her hands were quiteevidently resting as lightly as his own on the wood, and the boardwithout doubt moved without the voluntary help of either.

  "Shall we go on?" asked Carly, in a half whisper.

  "Go on? Of course!" returned the other.

  "Peter, have you a message for us?" Carly asked, again using that calm,uninflected tone.

  "Yes," pointed the board, and then, as they settled down to receive it,the wooden heart spelled rapidly: "Do not grieve for me-- I am happy."

  Carlotta looked disappointed. "Oh, dear," she said, "I'm so ti
red ofthat message! I thought Peter would do better than that! Let's tryagain."

  Again the board moved, and the message came, "Tell mother not togrieve----"

  "Oh, Peter," Carlotta said, in real impatience, "do say something besidethose stereotyped phrases! Tell us something we don't know, somethingabout yourself."

  "Tell us how you died," said Shelby, suddenly.

  "Yes, tell us that," Carly repeated.

  The board moved more slowly.

  "I was," it spelled, and "Go on!" the girl urged "I was--in thesnow----"

  "Yes, yes--go on."

  "And I fell down, and I--I--couldn't get up."

  "Why not?" this sharply from Carly.

  "H----" the board stopped; then went on, "Heart failure."

  "I thought so!" exclaimed Shelby; "there aren't any wild animals upthere in----"

  "Hush--it's moving again," said Carly.

  "Heart gave out," the board spelled, moving rapidly now. "Couldn't makethe boys hear. Could only gurgle in my throat. Couldn't shout. So Idied."

  "Do you believe it?" asked Carly, her big, brown eyes solemn andserious.

  "Yes, I do," said Shelby. "It's highly probable, anyway. Go on, Peter,tell us something else."

  Whether Shelby "believed" or not, he was deeply interested, and hisbreath came faster as he saw the revealing letters spell variousmessages.

  Both performers watched the four hands as the board moved under them.And, the most intense scrutiny could discover no voluntary movement orassistance to the uncanny instrument.

  Many messages were of slight importance, and then came a sudden, "I say,Shelby, why don't you marry Carly?"

  The girl gasped, then smiled, but Shelby looked up, dumbfounded.

  "Oh, Carly," he said, "if you only would!"

  "Hush!" she reproved him. "I'll put the board away if you do suchthings! You know you pushed it that time!"

  "I didn't, Carly, truly--word of honor, I didn't! I'd no idea what wascoming! Oh, Carly, darling, I love you, and--dear, whether Peter sentthat message or not--won't you--can't you----"

  They had risen, casting aside the board, and Shelby took her hands inhis. "Dearest," he said, "I wanted to tell you, but I waswaiting--for--for Peter's sake. Now--he wants it! So, dear heart--mylittle girl--won't you----"

  "No," said Carlotta.