The Poisoned Pen(Fiscle Part-3), Arthur B. Reeve [my reading book TXT] 📗

Part 3 Chapter 7 (The White Slave) Pg 78

So Far Kennedy Had Been Only An Interested Spectator,  But As The

Different Tests Failed,  He Had Become More And More Keenly Alive.

At Last It Seemed As If He Could Wait No Longer.

 

"Might I Try One Or Two Reactions With That Sample?" He Asked Of

The Physician Who Handed Him The Test Tube In Silence.

 

For A Moment Or Two Craig Thoughtfully Regarded It,  While With One

Hand He Fingered The Bottles Of Ether,  Alcohol,  Distilled Water,

And The Many Reagents Standing Before Him. He Picked Up One And

Poured A Little Liquid Into The Test Tube. Then,  Removing The

Precipitate That Was Formed,  He Tried To Dissolve It In Water. Not

Succeeding,  He Tried The Ether And Then The Alcohol. Both Were

Successful.

 

"What Is It?" We Asked As He Held The Tube Up Critically To The

Light.

 

"I Can't Be Sure Yet," He Answered Slowly. "I Thought At First

That It Was Some Alkaloid. I'll Have To Make Further Tests Before

I Can Be Positive Just What It Is. If I May Retain This Sample I

Think That With Other Clues That I Have Discovered I May Be Able

To Tell You Something Definite Soon."

 

The Coroner's Physician Willingly Assented,  And Craig Quickly

Dispatched The Tube,  Carefully Sealed,  To His Laboratory.

 

"That Part Of Our Investigation Will Keep," He Remarked As We Left

The Coroner's Office. "To-Night I Think We Had Better Resume The

Search Which Was So Unexpectedly Interrupted This Morning. I

Suppose You Have Concluded,  Walter,  That We Can Be Reasonably Sure

That The Trail Leads Back Through The Fortune-Tellers And

Soothsayers Of New York,--Which One,  It Would Be Difficult To Say.

The Obvious Thing,  Therefore,  Is To Consult Them All. I Think You

Will Enjoy That Part Of It,  With Your Newspaperman's Liking For

The Bizarre."

 

The Fact Was That It Did Appeal To Me,  Though At The Moment I Was

Endeavouring To Formulate A Theory In Which Dudley Lawton And An

Accomplice Would Account For The Facts.

 

It Was Early In The Evening As We Started Out On Our Tour Of The

Clairvoyants Of New York. The First Whom Kennedy Selected From The

Advertisements In The Clipping Described Himself As "Hata,  The

Veiled Prophet,  Born With A Double Veil,  Educated In Occult

Mysteries And Hindu Philosophy In Egypt And India." Like All Of

Them His Advertisement Dwelt Much On Love And Money:

 

   The Great Questions Of Life Are Quickly Solved,  Failure

   Turned To Success,  Sorrow To Joy,  The Separated Are Brought

   Together,  Foes Made Friends. Truths Are Laid Bare To His

   Mysterious Mind. He Gives You Power To Attract And Control

   Those Whom You May Desire,  Tells You Of Living Or Dead,  Your

   Secret Troubles,  The Cause And Remedy. Advice On All Affairs

   Of Life,  Love,  Courtship,  Marriage,  Business,  Speculations,

   Investments. Overcomes Rivals,  Enemies,  And All Evil Influences.

   Will Tell You How To Attract,  Control,  And Change The

   Thought,  Intentions,  Actions,  Or Character Of Any One You

   Desire.

 

Hata Was A Modest Adept Who Professed To Be Able To Explain The

Whole Ten Stages Of Yoga. He Had Established Himself On A Street

Near Times Square,  Just Off Broadway,  And There We Found Several

Automobiles And Taxicabs Standing At The Curb,  A Mute Testimony To

The Wealth Of At Least Some Of His Clientele.

 

A Solemn-Faced Coloured Man Ushered Us Into A Front Parlour And

Asked If We Had Come To See The Professor. Kennedy Answered That

We Had.

 

"Will You Please Write Your Names And Addresses On The Outside

Sheet Of This Pad,  Then Tear It Off And Keep It?" Asked The

Attendant. "We Ask All Visitors To Do That Simply As A Guarantee

Of Good Faith. Then If You Will Write Under It What You Wish To

Find Out From The Professor I Think It Will Help You Concentrate.

But Don't Write While I Am In The Room,  And Don't Let Me See The

Writing."

 

"A Pretty Cheap Trick," Exclaimed Craig When The Attendant Had

Gone. "That's How He Tells The Gullible Their Names Before They

Tell Him. I've A Good Notion To Tear Off Two Sheets. The Second Is

Chemically Prepared,  With Paraffin,  I Think. By Dusting It Over

With Powdered Charcoal You Can Bring Out What Was Written On The

First Sheet Over It. Oh,  Well,  Let's Let Him Get Something Across,

Anyway. Here Goes,  Our Names And Addresses,  And Underneath I'll

Write,  'What Has Become Of Georgette Gilbert?'"

 

Perhaps Five Minutes Later The Negro Took The Pad,  The Top Sheet

Having Been Torn Off And Placed In Kennedy's Pocket. He Also Took

A Small Fee Of Two Dollars. A Few Minutes Later We Were Ushered

Into The Awful Presence Of The "Veiled Prophet," A Tall,  Ferret-

Eyed Man In A Robe That Looked Suspiciously Like A Brocaded

Dressing-Gown Much Too Large For Him.

 

Sure Enough,  He Addressed Us Solemnly By Name And Proceeded

Directly To Tell Us Why We Had Come.

 

"Let Us Look Into The Crystal Of The Past,  Present,  And Future And

Read What It Has To Reveal," He Added Solemnly,  Darkening The

Room,  Which Was Already Only Dimly Lighted. Then Hata,  The

Crystal-Gazer,  Solemnly Seated Himself In A Chair. Before Him,  In

His Hands,  Reposing On A Bag Of Satin,  Lay A Huge Oval Piece Of

Glass. He Threw Forward His Head And Riveted His Eyes On The Milky

Depths Of The Crystal. In A Moment He Began To Talk,  First

Ramblingly,  Then Coherently.

 

"I See A Man,  A Dark Man," He Began. "He Is Talking Earnestly To A

Young Girl. She Is Trying To Avoid Him. Ah--He Seizes Her By Both

Arms. They Struggle. He Has His Hand At Her Throat. He Is Choking

Her."

 

I Was Thinking Of The Newspaper Descriptions Of Lawton,  Which The

Fakir Had Undoubtedly Read,  But Kennedy Was Leaning Forward Over

The Crystal-Gazer,  Not Watching The Crystal At All,  Nor With His

Eyes On The Clairvoyant's Face.

 

"Her Tongue Is Protruding From Her Mouth,  Her Eyes Are Bulging---"

 

"Yes,  Yes," Urged Kennedy. "Go On." "She Falls. He Strikes Her. He

Flees. He Goes To---"

 

Kennedy Laid His Hand Ever So Lightly On The Arm Of The

Clairvoyant,  Then Quickly Withdrew It.

 

"I Cannot See Where He Goes. It Is Dark,  Dark. You Will Have To

Come Back To-Morrow When The Vision Is Stronger."

 

The Thing Stung Me By Its Crudity. Kennedy,  However,  Seemed Elated

By Our Experience As We Gained The Street.

 

"Craig," I Remonstrated,  "You Don't Mean To Say You Attach Any

Importance To Vapourings Like That? Why,  There Wasn't A Thing The

Fellow Couldn't Have Imagined From The Newspapers,  Even The Clumsy

Description Of Dudley Lawton."

 

"We'll See," He Replied Cheerfully,  As We Stopped Under A Light To

Read The Address Of The Next Seer,  Who Happened To Be In The Same

Block.

 

It Proved To Be The Psychic Palmist Who Called Himself "The

Part 3 Chapter 7 (The White Slave) Pg 79

Pandit." He Also Was "Born With A Strange And Remarkable Power--

Not Meant To Gratify The Idle Curious,  But To Direct,  Advise,  And

Help Men And Women"--At The Usual Low Fee. He Said In Print That

He Gave Instant Relief To Those Who Had Trouble In Love,  And Also

Positively Guaranteed To Tell Your Name And The Object Of Your

Visit. He Added:

 

  Love,  Courtship,  Marriage. What Is More Beautiful Than

   The True Unblemished Love Of One Person For Another? What

   Is Sweeter,  Better,  Or More To Be Desired Than Perfect Harmony

   And Happiness? If You Want To Win The Esteem,  Love,  And

   Everlasting Affection Of Another,  See The Pandit,  The Greatest

   Living Master Of The Occult Science.

 

Inasmuch As This Seer Fell Into A Passion At The Other Incompetent

Soothsayers In The Next Column (And Almost Next Door) It Seemed As

If We Must Surely Get Something For Our Money From The Pandit.

 

Like Hata,  The Pandit Lived In A Large Brownstone House. The Man

Who Admitted Us Led Us Into A Parlour Where Several People Were

Seated About As If Waiting For Some One. The Pad And Writing

Process Was Repeated With Little Variation. Since We Were The

Latest Comers We Had To Wait Some Time Before We Were Ushered Into

The Presence Of The Pandit,  Who Was Clad In A Green Silk Robe.

 

The Room Was Large And Had Very Small Windows Of Stained Glass. At

One End Of The Room Was An Altar On Which Burned Several Candles

Which Gave Out An Incense. The Atmosphere Of The Room Was Heavy

With A Fragrance That Seemed To Combine Cologne With Chloroform.

 

The Pandit Waved A Wand,  Muttering Strange Sounds As He Did So,

For In Addition To His Palmistry,  Which He Seemed Not Disposed To

Exhibit That Night,  He Dealt In Mysteries Beyond Human Ken. A

Voice,  Quite Evidently From A Phonograph Buried In The Depths Of

The Altar,  Answered In An Unknown Language Which Sounded Much Like

"Al-Ya Wa-Aa Haal-Ya Waa-Ha." Across The Dim Room Flashed A Pale

Blue Light With A Crackling Noise,  The Visible Rays From A Crookes

Tube,  I Verily Believe. The Pandit,  However,  Said It Was The Soul

Of A Saint Passing Through. Then He Produced Two Silken Robes,  One

Red,  Which He Placed On Kennedy's Shoulders,  And One Violet,  Which

He Threw Over Me.

 

From The Air Proceeded Strange Sounds Of Weird Music And Words.

The Pandit Seemed To Fall Asleep,  Muttering. Apparently,  However,

Kennedy And I Were Bad Subjects,  For After Some Minutes Of This He

Gave It Up,  Saying That The Spirits Had No Revelation To Make To-

Night In The Matter In Which We Had Called. Inasmuch As We Had Not

Written On The Pad Just What That Matter Was,  I Was Not Surprised.

Nor Was I Surprised When The Pandit Laid Off His Robe And Said

Unctuously,  "But If You Will Call To-Morrow And Concentrate,  I Am

Sure That I Can Secure A Message That Will Be Helpful About Your

Little Matter."

 

Kennedy Promised To Call,  But Still He Lingered. The Pandit,

Anxious To Get Rid Of Us,  Moved Toward The Door. Kennedy Sidled

Over Toward The Green Robe Which The Pandit Had Laid On A Chair.

 

"Might I Have Some Of Your Writings To Look Over In The Meantime?"

Asked Craig As If To Gain Time.

 

"Yes,  But They Will Cost You Three Dollars A Copy--The Price I

Charge All My Students," Answered The Pandit With Just A Trace Of

A Gleam Of Satisfaction At Having At Last Made An Impression.

 

He Turned And Entered A Cabinet To Secure The Mystic Literature.

The Moment He Had Disappeared Kennedy Seized The Opportunity He

Had Been Waiting For. He Picked Up The Green Robe And Examined The

Collar And Neck Very Carefully Under The Least Dim Of The Lights

In The Room. He Seemed To Find What He Wished,  Yet He Continued To

Examine The Robe Until The Sound Of Returning Footsteps Warned Him

To Lay It Down Again. He Had Not Been Quite Quick Enough. The

Part 3 Chapter 7 (The White Slave) Pg 80