Read Online Voices in an Empty Room by Francis King - Free Book Online Page B

Hugo replied, though he was disinclined to rely on her for anything.
    â€˜Yes, the invaluable Mrs Lockit! But how odd it is that she should have kept these two nephews and their powers secret from me for so long. I can’t understand it.’
    Had there been any trickery? The two men discussed this possibility, more because, as scientific researchers, they were obliged to do so, than because they experienced any scepticism. Signals? Henry went and stood where Cyril had stood, trembling and sweating, in the hall and Hugo sat where Lionel had sat. They could see nothing of each other reflected on any surface – picture-glass, lincrusta, electric-light bulb. Neither boy had spoken. Henry was sure that Lionel had made no sound of tapping with his feet, much less of clicking with his hands, which had been in his pockets. His breathing had been even.
    â€˜Of course, we shall eventually have to examine them under even more rigid conditions, with other people present,’ Hugo said.
    â€˜Of course.’
    They heard footsteps in the hall and then Mrs Lockit saying in her loud, nasal voice, ‘ Now get straight home, boys! No loitering! I don’t want your mother to be anxious.
    â€˜What about the dough then?’
    Mrs Lockit’s voice, though it sank to a whisper, was still audible. ‘Now that’s enough of that. I’ve already told you. I’ll have a word with the two gentlemen. You’ll get it next time I see you.’
    The front door closed.
    â€˜Ah, Mrs Lockit!’ Henry brought the palms of his hands together and bowed, as though in an Eastern greeting. ‘How grateful we are to you. A truly remarkable exhibition.’
    â€˜Yes, indeed,’ Hugo said. Lionel’s mention of the dough for the second time, at the front door, had already made him draw his wallet out of his inner breast pocket, so that he was holding it in his hands. Now he opened it and, Mrs Lockit’s wild, dark eyes intently fixed on him, plucked out a five-pound note. Generous, he thought. Overgenerous, thought Henry, who scowled at him and gave his head a little shake.
    â€˜Would this be acceptable?’ Hugo asked, holding out the note.
    Mrs Lockit took it reluctantly, as though it were something soiled, between forefinger and thumb. She dangled it, as she exclaimed, in a troubled voice, ‘Oh, Mr Crawfurd!’ Hugo thought that, decent soul, that she was, she was overcome by such munificence. But then she drew closer to him, her elbow tilted upwards, as though she were about to give him a nudge. ‘I don’t know how the boys …’ She took the note in both her hands and stared down at it, as though examining it for forgery. ‘They could earn more than this helping Mr Petrie.’
    â€˜Mr Petrie?’ For a moment, Hugo supposed that this must be some rival psychical researcher.
    â€˜He has the canoes. They lend him a hand from time to time. Two quid an hour – and no travelling, of course.’
    â€˜Yes, I see.’ Hugo opened the wallet again.
    â€˜As I explained,’ Mrs Lockit went on, ‘it’s just a party trick to the boys. It takes a lot out of Cyril, as you could see with your own eyes, now couldn’t you? And Lionel, well, he’s just bored by it all. So, unless it’s worth their while, really worth their while, they just won’t turn up again, you mark my words. You can’t blame them, that’s how it is.’
    Hugo sighed. What had been a revelatory, encouraging and exhilarating experience was now becoming squalid. At any moment this gypsy of a woman would be thrusting her palm under his nose and threatening him with ill luck unless he forked out. Ah, well. Common clay, common clay. He drew another five-pound note out of his wallet. Seeing it, Mrs Lockit gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. That was more like it, the sigh clearly said.
    â€˜Does that meet with your satisfaction?’ Henry asked acidly, as the note