think she will,’ said Raoul. ‘Your clock is a little fast, Simone.’
Simone moved about the room, rearranging an ornament here and there.
‘I wonder who she is, this Madame Exe?’ she observed. ‘Where she comes from, who her people are? It is strange that we know nothing about her.’
Raoul shrugged his shoulders.
‘Most people remain incognito if possible when they come to a medium,’ he observed. ‘It is an elementary precaution.’
‘I suppose so,’ agreed Simone listlessly.
A little china vase she was holding slipped from her fingers and broke to pieces on the tiles of the fireplace. She turned sharply on Raoul.
‘You see,’ she murmured, ‘I am not myself. Raoul, would you think me very—very cowardly if I told Madame Exe I could not sit today?’
His look of pained astonishment made her redden.
‘You promised, Simone—’ he began gently.
She backed against the wall.
‘I won’t do it, Raoul. I won’t do it.’
And again that glance of his, tenderly reproachful, made her wince.
‘It is not of the money I am thinking, Simone, though you must realize that the money this woman has offered you for the last sitting is enormous—simply enormous.’
She interrupted him defiantly.
‘There are things that matter more than money.’
‘Certainly there are,’ he agreed warmly. ‘That is just what I am saying. Consider—this woman is a mother, a mother who has lost her only child. If you are not really ill, if it is only a whim on your part—you can deny a rich woman a caprice, can you deny a mother one last sight of her child?’
The medium flung her hands out despairingly in front of her.
‘Oh, you torture me,’ she murmured. ‘All the same you are right. I will do as you wish, but I know now what I am afraid of—it is the word “mother”.’
‘Simone!’
‘There are certain primitive elementary forces, Raoul. Most of them have been destroyed by civilization, but motherhood stands where it stood at the beginning. Animals—human beings, they are all the same. A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.’
She stopped, panting a little, then turned to him with a quick, disarming smile.
‘I am foolish today, Raoul. I know it.’
He took her hand in his.
‘Lie down for a minute or two,’ he urged. ‘Rest till she comes.’
‘Very well.’ She smiled at him and left the room.
Raoul remained for a minute or two lost in thought, then he strode to the door, opened it, and crossed the little hall. He went into a room the other side of it, a sitting room very much like the one he had left, but at one end was an alcove with a big armchair set in it. Heavy black velvet curtains were arranged so as to pull across the alcove. Elise was busy arranging the room. Close to the alcove she had set two chairs and a small round table. On the table was a tambourine, a horn, and some paper and pencils.
‘The last time,’ murmured Elise with grim satisfaction. ‘Ah, Monsieur, I wish it were over and done with.’
The sharp ting of an electric bell sounded.
‘There she is, that great gendarme of a woman,’ continued the old servant. ‘Why can’t she go and pray decently for her little one’s soul in a church, and burn a candle to Our Blessed Lady? Does not the good God know what is best for us?’
‘Answer the bell, Elise,’ said Raoul peremptorily.
She threw him a look, but obeyed. In a minute or two she returned ushering in the visitor.
‘I will tell my mistress you are here, Madame.’
Raoul came forward to shake hands with Madame Exe. Simone’s words floated back to his memory.
‘So big and so black.’
She was a big woman, and the heavy black of French mourning seemed almost exaggerated in her case. Her voice when she spoke was very deep.
‘I fear I am a little late, Monsieur.’
‘A few moments only,’ said Raoul, smiling. ‘Madame Simone is lying down. I am sorry to say she is far from well, very nervous and overwrought.’
Her hand, which she was just withdrawing, closed on his suddenly like a vice.
‘But she will sit?’ she demanded sharply.
‘Oh, yes, Madame.’
Madame Exe gave a sigh of relief, and sank into a chair, loosening one of the heavy black veils that floated round her.
‘Ah, Monsieur!’ she murmured, ‘you cannot imagine, you cannot conceive the wonder and the joy of these séances to me! My little one! My Amelie! To see her, to hear her, even—perhaps—yes, perhaps to be even able to—stretch out my hand and touch her.’
Raoul spoke quickly and peremptorily.
‘Madame Exe—how can I explain?—on no account must you do anything except under my express directions, otherwise there is the gravest danger.’
‘Danger to me?’
‘No, Madame,’ said Raoul, ‘to the medium. You must understand that the phenomena that occur are explained by Science in a certain way. I will put the matter very simply, using no technical terms. A spirit, to manifest itself, has to use the actual physical substance of the medium. You have seen the vapour of fluid issuing from the lips of the medium. This finally condenses and is built up into the physical semblance of the spirit’s dead body. But this ectoplasm we believe to be the actual substance of the medium. We hope to prove this some day by careful weighing and testing—but the great difficulty is the danger and pain which attends the medium on any handling of the phenomena. Were anyone to seize hold of the materialization roughly the death of the medium might result.’
Madame Exe had listened to him with close attention.
‘That is very interesting, Monsieur. Tell me, shall not a time come when the materialization shall advance so far that it shall be capable of detachment from its parent, the medium?’
‘That is a fantastic speculation, Madame.’
She persisted.
‘But, on the facts, not impossible?’
‘Quite impossible today.’
‘But
