who laughed. In the end Jacobsen and I left the "circle" and the
cabin, which was locked behind us; only Bastin and Bickley
remaining there in the dark. Presently we heard sounds of
altercation, and Bickley emerged looking very red in the face,
followed by Bastin, who was saying:
"Can I help it if something pulled your nose and snatched off
your eyeglasses, which anyhow are quite
useless to you when there
is no light? Again, is it possible for me, sitting on the other
side of that table, to have placed the concertina on your head
and made it play the National Anthem, a thing that I have not the
slightest idea how to do?"
"Please do not try to explain," snapped Bickley. "I am
perfectly aware that you deceived me somehow, which no doubt you
think a good joke."
"My dear fellow," I interrupted, "is it possible to imagine old
Basil deceiving anyone?"
"Why not," snorted Bickley, "
seeing that he deceives himself
from one year's end to the other?"
"I think," said Bastin, "that this is an unholy business and
that we are both deceived by the devil. I will have no more to do
with it," and he
departed to his cabin, probably to say some
appropriate prayers.
After this the seances were given up but Jacobsen produced an
instrument called a planchette and with difficulty persuaded
Bickley to try it, which he did after many precautions. The
thing, a heart-shaped piece of wood mounted on wheels and with a
pencil stuck at its narrow end, cantered about the sheet of paper
on which it was placed, Bickley, whose hands rested upon it,
staring at the roof of the cabin. Then it began to scribble and
after a while stopped still.
"Will the Doctor look?" said Jacobsen. "Perhaps the spirits
have told him something."
"Oh! curse all this silly talk about spirits," exclaimed
Bickley, as he arranged his eyeglasses and held up the paper to
the light, for it was after dinner.
He stared, then with an
exclamation which I will not repeat,
and a glance of
savagesuspicion at the poor Dane and the rest of
us, threw it down and left the cabin. I picked it up and next
moment was screaming with
laughter. There on the top of the sheet
was a rough but entirely recognizable
portrait of Bickley with
the accordion on his head, and
underneath, written in a delicate,
Italian
female hand,
absolutely different from his own, were
these words taken from one of St. Paul's Epistles--"Oppositions
of science falsely so called." Underneath them again in a
scrawling, schoolboy fist, very like Bastin's, was inscribed,
"Tell us how this is done, you silly doctor, who think yourself
so clever."
"It seems that the devil really can quote Scripture," was
Bastin's only
comment, while Jacobsen stared before him and
smiled.
Bickley never alluded to the matter, but for days afterwards I
saw him experimenting with paper and chemicals,
evidentlytryingto discover a form of
invisible ink which would appear upon the
application of the hand. As he never said anything about it, I
fear that he failed.
This planchette business had a somewhat curious
ending. A few
nights later Jacobsen was
working it and asked me to put a
question. To
oblige him I inquired on what day we should reach
Fremantle, the port of Perth. It wrote an answer which, I may
remark,
subsequently proved to be quite correct.
"That is not a good question," said Jacobsen, "since as a
sailor I might guess the reply. Try again, Mr. Arbuthnot."
"Will anything
remarkable happen on our
voyage to the South
Seas?" I inquired casually.
The planchette hesitated a while then wrote rapidly and
stopped. Jacobsen took up the paper and began to read the answer
aloud--"To A, B the D, and B the C, the most
remarkable things
will happen that have happened to men living in the world."
"That must mean me, Bickley the doctor and Bastin the
clergyman," I said, laughing.
Jacobsen paid no attention, for he was
reading what followed.
As he did so I saw his face turn white and his eyes begin to
start from his head. Then suddenly he tore the paper in pieces