The Complete Novels of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Arthur Conan Doyle

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СКАЧАТЬ the cushions. An instant later the Chinese control, with his whimsical smile and his hands tucked away in his sleeves, was talking to the circle.

      “He good man — fool man — learn sense soon. Bring him again. Not waste more time. Oh, my God! My God! Help! Mercy! Help!”

      He had fallen full length upon the sofa, face upwards, and his cries were so terrible that the little audience all sprang to their feet. “A saw! A saw! Fetch a saw!” yelled the medium. His voice sank into a moan.

      Even Mailey was agitated. The rest were horrified.

      “Someone has obsessed him. I can’t understand it. It may be some strong evil entity.”

      “Shall I speak to him?” asked Mason.

      “Wait a moment! Let it develop. We shall soon see.”

      The medium writhed in agony. “Oh, my God! Why don’t you fetch a saw!” he cried. “It’s here across my breast-bone. It is cracking! I feel it! Hawkin! Hawkin! Pull me from under! Hawkin! Push up the beam! No, no, that’s worse! And it’s on fire! Oh, horrible! Horrible!”

      His cries were blood-curdling. They were all chilled with horror. Then in an instant the Chinaman was blinking at them with his slanting eyes.

      “What you think of that, Mister Mailey?”

      “It was terrible, Chang. What was it?”

      “It was for him,” nodding towards Malone. “He want newspaper story, I give him newspaper story. He will understand. No time ‘splain now. Too many waiting. Sailor man come next. Here he come!”

      The Chinaman was gone, and a jovial, puzzled grin passed over the face of the medium. He scratched his head.

      “Well, damn me,” said he. “I never thought I would take orders from a Chink, but he says ‘hist!’ and by crums you’ve got to hist and no back talk either. Well, here I am. What did you want?”

      “We wanted nothing.”

      “Well, the Chink seemed to think you did, for he slung me in here.”

      “It was you that wanted something. You wanted knowledge.”

      “Well, I’ve lost my bearings, that’s true. I know I am dead ‘cause I’ve seen the gunnery lootenant, and he was blown to bits before my eyes. If he’s dead I’m dead and all the rest of us, for we are over to the last man. But we’ve got the laugh on our sky-pilot, for he’s as puzzled as the rest of us. Damned poor pilot, I call him. We’re all taking our own soundings now.”

      “What was your ship?”

      “The Monmouth.”

      “She that went down in battle with the German?”

      “That’s right. South American waters. It was clean hell. Yes, it was hell.” There was a world of emotion in his voice. “Well,” he added more cheerfully, “I’ve heard our mates got level with them later. That is so, sir, is it not?”

      “Yes, they all went to the bottom.”

      “We’ve seen nothing of them this side. Just as well, maybe. We don’t forget nothing.”

      “But you must,” said Mailey. “That’s what is the matter with you. That is why the Chinese control brought you through. We are here to teach you. Carry our message to your mates.”

      “Bless your heart, sir, they are all here behind me.”

      “Well, then, I tell you and them that the time for hard thoughts and worldly strife is over. Your faces are to be turned forward, not back. Leave this earth which still holds you by the ties of thought and let all your desire be to make yourself unselfish and worthy of a higher, more peaceful, more beautiful life. Can you understand?”

      “I hear you, sir. So do they. We want steering, sir, for, indeed, we’ve had wrong instructions, and we never expected to find ourselves cast away like this. We had heard of heaven and we had heard of hell, but this don’t seem to fit in with either. But this Chinese gent says time is up, and we can report again next week. I thank you, sir, for self and company. I’ll come again.”

      There was silence.

      “What an incredible conversation!” gasped Malone.

      “If I were to put down that man’s sailor talk and slang as emanating from a world of spirits, what would the public say?”

      Mailey shrugged his shoulders.

      “Does it matter what the public says? I started as a fairly sensitive person, and now a tank takes as much notice of small shot as I do of newspaper attacks. They honestly don’t even interest me. Let us just stick fast to truth as near as we can get it, and leave all else to find its own level.”

      “I don’t pretend to know much of these things,” said Roxton, “but what strikes me most is that these folk are very decent ordinary people. What? Why should they be wanderin’ about in the dark, and hauled up here by this Chinaman when they’ve done no partic’lar harm in life?”

      “It is the strong earth tie and the absence of any spiritual nexus in each case,” Mailey explained. “Here is a clergyman with his mind entangled with formulas and ritual. Here is a materialist who has deliberately attuned himself to matter. Here is a seaman brooding over revengeful thoughts. They are there by the million million.”

      “Where?” asked Malone.

      “Here,” Mailey answered. “Actually on the surface of the earth. Well, you saw it for yourself, I understand, when you went down to Dorsetshire. That was on the surface, was it not? That was a very gross case, and that made it more visible and obvious, but it did not change the general law. I believe that the whole globe is infested with the earth-bound, and that when a great cleansing comes, as is prophesied, it will be for their benefit as much as for that of the living.”

      Malone thought of the strange visionary Miromar and his speech at the Spiritualistic Church on the first night of his quest.

      “Do you, then, believe in some impending event?” he asked.

      Mailey smiled. “That is rather a large subject to open up,” he said. “I believe — But here is Mr. Chang again!”

      The control joined in the conversation.

      “I heard you. I sit and listen,” said he. “You speak now of what is to come. Let it be! Let it be! The Time is not yet. You will be told when it is good that you know. Remember this. All is best. Whatever come all is best. God makes no mistakes. Now others here who wish your help, I leave you.”

      Several spirits came through in quick succession. One was an architect who said that he had lived at Bristol. He had not been an evil man, but had simply banished all thoughts of the future. Now he was in the dark and needed guidance. Another had lived in Birmingham. He was an educated man but a materialist. He refused to accept the assurances of Mailey, and was by no means convinced that he was really dead. Then came a very noisy and violent man of a crudely-religious and narrow, intolerant type, who spoke repeatedly of “the blood “.

      “What is this ribald СКАЧАТЬ