Read Online The Ghost Hunters by Neil Spring - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Neil Spring
Ads: Link
assistant.’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ I began, but before I could say another word Price had released me and suggested I join him in his private study where a pile of his written correspondence was waiting to be sorted and answered.
As we walked, he returned to the subject of Mr Schneider. ‘Now, he’s a most interesting medium from Australia. My own dealings with him go back a few years. To be frank, I am rather surprised you haven’t heard of him.’
‘Why?’
‘Somehow he has managed to cultivate quite a reputation for himself here and on the Continent. You see, Sarah, his mediumship gives the impression, at least, that he possesses some quite spectacular psychic abilities.’
‘What’s so remarkable about him?’
‘Well, for a start,’ said Price, ‘he very recently managed to impress Dr Lamb of the Engineering College of Cambridge, as well as a professional magician during a seance held at Tavistock Square. And every precaution, I am assured, was taken to rule out the possibility of trickery. His ankles and wrists were bound with luminous straps; they even held his hands.’
‘And what happened?’
Price came to an abrupt standstill on the threshold of the room into which he was leading me. He made no sound, his face drained of expression.
‘Mr Price, are you all right?’
Nothing. Just an absent stare.
I reached out and touched his hand. It was rigid. ‘Mr Price?’
‘Hmm?’
Accustomed as I would become to Price’s curious faculties, I always found his ability to mentally detach himself and dis appear to a private, secluded part of his mind most disconcerting. I was about to shake his arm when, in an instant, he snapped back to normal, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
‘Where did you go? You were somewhere else entirely.’
He raised his eyebrows, unconcerned. ‘Was I?’
‘Well … yes, you were. Are you quite all right?’
‘I have dark moments, Miss Grey. Black days sometimes.’ He gave a half smile. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. Now, where was I?’
‘You were telling me about Schneider.’
‘Yes, I was,’ he whispered. ‘According to the witnesses’ testimonies, the young medium levitated himself in perfect light. Just imagine that, Sarah. He hung stationary in the air, his feet just above the heads of the observers, before floating across the room.’
A man who could fly? I thought Price was joking – he had to be – until the outrageous thought came into my mind, as I looked upon his cool eyes and saturnine features, that he was deadly serious. Perhaps Amy was right; perhaps he was crazy. I felt my self-doubt about the job creeping upon me once again, remembered the strained conversation with my mother that morning as she urged me to reconsider, and remarked, ‘People don’t just float into the air. That was a gift reserved only for the saints.’
My words drew from him an obvious curiosity. ‘You know something of religion?’
‘My father was a devout Catholic,’ I explained. ‘I was taught by nuns.’
‘You look doubtful, Miss Grey …’
‘If you mean do I carry the faith, the answer is no. A lovingGod would never have allowed the war. Saints levitating’ – I shook my head – ‘they’re just stories. Like these tales about Mr Schneider.’
Price nodded briskly. ‘Well, indeed, and who knows what a clever man can do nowadays, with some mirrors and ropes and the power of suggestion?’
‘But I imagine the scientists who tested Schneider were frightened.’
‘Possibly. For some, I am sure, such wonders must be the fabric of nightmares.’
‘Then what,’ I mused, ‘are mediums afraid of?’
‘Ah, well, that’s easy,’ Price proclaimed, sweeping past. ‘They’re afraid of me!’
I hurriedly caught up with him.
‘I always have my doubts, Miss Grey. I call them my evil demons. Remember, the possibility of doubt can be a very useful thing indeed.’ Price jerked round to face me, his eyes
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ I began, but before I could say another word Price had released me and suggested I join him in his private study where a pile of his written correspondence was waiting to be sorted and answered.
As we walked, he returned to the subject of Mr Schneider. ‘Now, he’s a most interesting medium from Australia. My own dealings with him go back a few years. To be frank, I am rather surprised you haven’t heard of him.’
‘Why?’
‘Somehow he has managed to cultivate quite a reputation for himself here and on the Continent. You see, Sarah, his mediumship gives the impression, at least, that he possesses some quite spectacular psychic abilities.’
‘What’s so remarkable about him?’
‘Well, for a start,’ said Price, ‘he very recently managed to impress Dr Lamb of the Engineering College of Cambridge, as well as a professional magician during a seance held at Tavistock Square. And every precaution, I am assured, was taken to rule out the possibility of trickery. His ankles and wrists were bound with luminous straps; they even held his hands.’
‘And what happened?’
Price came to an abrupt standstill on the threshold of the room into which he was leading me. He made no sound, his face drained of expression.
‘Mr Price, are you all right?’
Nothing. Just an absent stare.
I reached out and touched his hand. It was rigid. ‘Mr Price?’
‘Hmm?’
Accustomed as I would become to Price’s curious faculties, I always found his ability to mentally detach himself and dis appear to a private, secluded part of his mind most disconcerting. I was about to shake his arm when, in an instant, he snapped back to normal, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
‘Where did you go? You were somewhere else entirely.’
He raised his eyebrows, unconcerned. ‘Was I?’
‘Well … yes, you were. Are you quite all right?’
‘I have dark moments, Miss Grey. Black days sometimes.’ He gave a half smile. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. Now, where was I?’
‘You were telling me about Schneider.’
‘Yes, I was,’ he whispered. ‘According to the witnesses’ testimonies, the young medium levitated himself in perfect light. Just imagine that, Sarah. He hung stationary in the air, his feet just above the heads of the observers, before floating across the room.’
A man who could fly? I thought Price was joking – he had to be – until the outrageous thought came into my mind, as I looked upon his cool eyes and saturnine features, that he was deadly serious. Perhaps Amy was right; perhaps he was crazy. I felt my self-doubt about the job creeping upon me once again, remembered the strained conversation with my mother that morning as she urged me to reconsider, and remarked, ‘People don’t just float into the air. That was a gift reserved only for the saints.’
My words drew from him an obvious curiosity. ‘You know something of religion?’
‘My father was a devout Catholic,’ I explained. ‘I was taught by nuns.’
‘You look doubtful, Miss Grey …’
‘If you mean do I carry the faith, the answer is no. A lovingGod would never have allowed the war. Saints levitating’ – I shook my head – ‘they’re just stories. Like these tales about Mr Schneider.’
Price nodded briskly. ‘Well, indeed, and who knows what a clever man can do nowadays, with some mirrors and ropes and the power of suggestion?’
‘But I imagine the scientists who tested Schneider were frightened.’
‘Possibly. For some, I am sure, such wonders must be the fabric of nightmares.’
‘Then what,’ I mused, ‘are mediums afraid of?’
‘Ah, well, that’s easy,’ Price proclaimed, sweeping past. ‘They’re afraid of me!’
I hurriedly caught up with him.
‘I always have my doubts, Miss Grey. I call them my evil demons. Remember, the possibility of doubt can be a very useful thing indeed.’ Price jerked round to face me, his eyes
Similar Books
