The Revenant of Thraxton Hall: The Paranormal Casebooks of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Read Online Free PDF

smiled handsomely. “And what this tired old body can achieve.”
    “Levitate!” the cockney voice howled again. “Let’s see ya lev—” There was a thud and a loud “ooooof” as someone took it upon himself to silence the heckler with a clenched fist driven between his shoulder blades.
    Hume looked up and smiled, nodding in appreciation to his anonymous helper. “Tonight I shall—” He paused as something caught in his voice. The handkerchief flew up to cover his mouth as he coughed explosively. He seemed on the verge of a coughing fit, but visibly forced himself to relax. Having regained his composure, he pulled away the handkerchief and began again. “Teleportation … is the ability to move distant objects instantaneously through the power of the mind alone.”
    This set the crowd abuzz with excited murmuring.
    “But first … first I must pause to recognize the presence of genius amongst us.” He looked toward Conan Doyle and his companions. “Or, more correctly, the presence of three geniuses amongst us.” He gestured and a spotlight lit them up. “Tonight, we are graced with the presence of three of London’s greatest men of letters: Oscar Wilde, Arthur Conan Doyle, and J.M. Barrie. Gentleman, welcome.”
    The delighted audience burst into thunderous applause. Oscar Wilde leapt to his feet, bowed his head, and made a salaam gesture to the crowd. J.M. Barrie stood up from his seat, (which made remarkably little difference to his height) and acknowledged the applause with a polite nod. When Conan Doyle rose, the applause subsided noticeably and was mixed with a low grumbling and scattered boos—apparently the news about the demise of Sherlock Holmes had followed him there, like his own personal rain cloud. He ducked his head in a quick bow and sat down again.
    Hume strode to the very edge of the stage. “For this demonstration, I shall require the assistance of a member of the audience.”
    A forest of hands went up. Hume pointed to a pretty young woman in the front row, a few seats from Conan Doyle.
    “Young lady, do you have an object I could borrow, say a golden guinea?”
    The young lady blushed and dropped her eyes bashfully, shaking her head.
    “Obviously not a native of England,” Conan Doyle muttered to his companions. “Anyone could see from the young lady’s dress she’s a shop girl, unlikely to be carrying a golden guinea in her purse.”
    “But I’m sure he’s already got a guinea up his sleeve,” Barrie whispered. “Ready to make the switch.”
    “Mister Hume, if I might be so bold,” Wilde spoke up, rising from his seat. “I have an object the young lady might borrow.”
    The spotlight swung over to fix him in its beam. Wilde reached inside his jacket pocket and took out what at first appeared to be a large coin. He held it aloft so that it sparkled in the light. “While attending Trinity College in Dublin, I was awarded the Berkeley Gold Medal for Greek. It is one of my most treasured possessions and quite unique. You could not find its double anywhere in England.” Wilde threw Barrie a sardonic glance. “Therefore, I think it will make a perfect substitution for a golden guinea, any of which—as my friend J.M. Barrie aptly commented to me—could be quickly substituted by a magician of mundane talent.”
    Hume smiled broadly. “An excellent observation, Mister Wilde, and I thank you—and Mister Barrie. Your gold medal will make an excellent substitute, and I promise it shall be safely returned to you.”
    Wilde handed the medal to Conan Doyle, who admired it for a moment, and then handed it on. The medal was passed along the front row until the young lady received it.
    Hume continued. “Although I have never seen this medal, I presume it is embossed with something approximating heads or tails. Would you agree, madam?”
    She looked it over. “Yessir.” She spoke in a broad cockney accent. “It’s got an ’orse on one side an’ a castle on the