“I don’t want to see that man,” said Stebbins, “him and me ain’t good friends,” and rising quickly, the owner of the house fled toward the kitchen quarters, and spent the rest of the morning with the Thorpes out there.
Doctor Crawford, the county physician and coroner, was a man of slow speech and dignified manner. He was appalled by the circumstances in which he found himself, and a little frightened at the hints he had heard of ghostly visitations.
Indeed, that had been the real reason for his delay in arriving,—he had not been willing to brave the darkness of the night before. This was his secret, however, and his excuse of conflicting duties had been accepted.
The whole party gathered in the hall to hear what the newcomer had to say.
Eve and Milly returned, the latter, quivering and tearful, going straight to her husband’s side, and sitting close to him.
Norma was pale and trembling, too, and Tracy’s watchful eye regarded her sympathetically, as he led her to a seat.
Eve, self-reliant and calm, flitted about incessantly. She went to the kitchen and talked over household matters with Hester, for Milly was unable to do this. Then, returning, Eve went into the drawing room, and after a few moments returned, closing the door again after her. Then she stepped into the Room with the Tassels. She was there longer, but at last came out, and locking the door behind her, retained the key. No one noticed this but Norma, and she kept her own counsel, but she also kept a watchful eye on Eve.
Even before he went to look at the bodies of the two victims of the tragedy, Doctor Crawford asked some questions.
His slowness was maddening to the alert minds of his listeners, but he methodically arrived at the facts of the case.
“I am told by my colleague, Doctor Wayburn,” he said, “that there is no mark or sign on the remains to indicate the cause of death. There will, of course, be need of autopsies, but for that I will await Doctor Wayburn’s return. He will be here shortly. Meantime, I will inquire concerning this strange information I have received, hinting at a belief in—ahem—in spiritualism, by some of the people here present. Is such belief held, may I ask?”
“Perhaps belief is too strong a word,” the Professor volunteered, as no one else spoke, “but I may tell you that we came here to this house for the purpose of investigating the truth of the story that the house is haunted.”
“And have you made such investigations?”
“We have tried to do so. The results have been mysterious, startling and now,—tragic,—but I cannot say we have proved anything, except that supernatural influences have most assuredly been at work.”
“I am not willing to accept such an explanation of two sudden deaths,” Crawford said, in his dignified way, “at any rate, not without a most exhaustive investigation into the possibility of their having been brought about by natural agencies. Let me take up first the case of Mr. Bruce. Was this gentleman in robust health?”
“Entirely so,” said Landon, “so far as we know. It is not inconceivable that he had some heart trouble or other malady that was not noticeable, but of that I cannot say positively. It seems to me, Doctor, you would better look at him, you might note some symptom that would enlighten you.”
Crawford shuddered perceptibly, but tried to hide his disinclination. Though accustomed to gruesome sights, his dread of the supernatural was such that he feared the proposed examination. However, ashamed of his hesitation, he rose, and asked to be shown the body of Gifford Bruce.
Landon started to officiate, but Milly’s detaining hand held him back; the Professor made no move, but Eve and Tracy started simultaneously to rise.
“I’ll go,” said Eve, a little officiously, and Tracy sat down again.
She led the way to the big drawing room, where the remains of Gifford Bruce lay, and stood by while Doctor Crawford looked down at the still, white face.
A long time they stood there, no word being spoken. Then Eve said softly, “Don’t let your disbelief in supernatural powers blind you to their possible reality. There are many matters yet unknown and spiritism is one of them. Remember that we who are here gathered are sensitives and psychics. We are prepared for and expect experiences not vouchsafed to less clairvoyant natures,—though we did not look for this! But I beg of you, sir, to realize that there are things of which you have no cognizance, that yet are real and effective.”
Doctor Crawford looked at the speaker. In the partially darkened room, Eve’s strange eyes glittered with an uncanny light. Her face was pale, and her red hair like a flame aureole. She took a slow step nearer to the doctor, and he recoiled, as from a vampire.
“You are afraid!” she said, and her tone was exultant. “Do not be afraid,—the phantasms will not hurt you if you do your duty. Unless you do your duty——” she stretched her hand toward him, and again he drew away, “the phantasms will haunt you—haunt you—haunt you!”
Her voice fell to the merest whisper, but it thrilled through the room like a clarion note to the shocked ears of the listening man.
Against his will her eyes held his; against his will, without his volition, he whispered, “What is my duty?”
“To declare,—to declare in accordance with your own conviction, in proof of your own belief,—that these two deaths were the direct result of a supernatural power. What power, you know not, but you do know—remember, you do know, that no mortal hand brought the tragedy about, either the hands of the victims themselves or of any one else.”
Fascinated, frightened, Crawford stared at this strange woman. He had never before encountered such a face, such a sinuous, serpentine form, a personality that seemed to sway his very being, that seemed to dominate and control his whole will power, his whole brain power.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Eve went on, “don’t think for a moment, I am advising you wrongly, or with intent to deceive. Only, I see you know nothing of occult phenomena, and moreover, you are even ignorant of your own ignorance of them. Therefore, seeing, too, your quick appreciation and perceptive faculty, I warn you not to ignore or forget the fact that these things exist, that unseen powers hold sway over us all, and they must be reckoned with.”
The flattery was subtle. More than the words, Eve’s glance implied a keen apprehension on the part of the doctor, which, as he didn’t possess it, seemed a desirable thing to him, and he gladly assumed that he had it.
“And now,” Eve said, as they left the room, “do you want to go to the other room—the Room with the Tassels?”
“No—please, not now,” and Crawford shuddered, for he had heard much of that room. Also, he was desirous of getting back to more normal associates than this strange being, and he resolved to leave the examination of the other victim until the return of his fellow physician, who at least was practical, and an unbeliever in spooks.
Shaken by the whole episode, Doctor Crawford concealed his disquiet by a manner even more slow and deliberate than usual. He said no word of Gifford Bruce, but announced his desire to ask a few general questions concerning practical matters.
“Where is your home, Mr. Landon?” he inquired, and then asked the same question of each.
He learned that they were all residents of New York City, except Mr. Tracy, who had lived in Philadelphia, but was contemplating a move to New York.
“I have had a call to a pastorate there,” Tracy stated, “and it seems advisable to me to accept it.”
“Mr. Bruce lived in Chicago, did he not?” went on Crawford, “and Miss Reid, also?”
“Yes,” said Landon, “but Miss Reid had been at school in Connecticut for the last three years. She was graduated in June, and her uncle and guardian, Mr. Bruce, came East for the occasion. They concluded to spend the summer with us, intending