on—quite. It's prottc-tion he wants, not ^ilftection, and I told him we didn't deal in that. But I've got his address, and I said we'd keep our eyes open on his behalf I don't know what else we can do at this stage."
"Chuck him out for a start," said Jim. "Tell him to take a jump at himself"
"Whatever for? If he's telling the truth, it's interesting, and if he's lying, it's even more interesting. I take it you think he's lying."
"Course he is," said Jim. "I never heard such a package of whoppers in all me life."
"You mean the psychometry?" said Webster, settling back on the sofa. "What about his little demonstration? I was impressed, even if you weren't."
"You're an easy mark, you are," said Jim. "I pity you
if you ever come up against the three-card trick. He s a conjurer, ain't he? He knows more about cunning Httle bits o' machinery than even Fred here. He knew what that thing was, and he saw that photograph youre so proud of up there, and he put two and two together and had you gaping Uke a pair of yokels."
Webster looked up at the mantelpiece, where Frederick had pinned a print of one of their pictures from the opium den, and then laughed and flung a cushion at Jim, who fielded it neatly and tucked it behind his head.
"All right," said Frederick, "I give you that one. But the other story about the forest and the murder in the snow—^what d'you make of that?"
"You poor cod," said Jim. "You didnt believe that, did you? I despair, Fred. I thought you had a bit of milk in your coconut. Since you can't see what's obvious, I'll have to tell you. He's got something on this geezer, this guest at the dinner party. Blackmail, see. Naturally the bloke wants to get him out the way, and I don't blame him. And if you don't like that for an explanation, try this one: He's been playing goose and duck with the feller's wife, and he's been found out."
"That's what I like about Jim's mentality," said Frederick to Webster, "if that's what it is: it goes straight for the basic. No unnecessary frills, no higher motives—"
Jim jeered. "You did believe him! You're getting soft, mate, and no error. Sally wouldn't fall for a tale like that. But, then, she's got a head on her shoulders."
Fredericks face darkened. "Don't talk to me about that ranting jade," he said.
"Ranting jade! That's a good 'un. What was it you called her last time? A fanatical, narrow-minded calculating machine. And she called you a feckless, featherbrained fantasist, and you called her—"
"Enough, damn it! I want nothing more to do with her. Tell me about—"
"I bet you go and see her before the week's out!"
"Done. Haifa guinea I don't."
And they shook hands.
''Do you believe him, Fred?" said his uncle.
"I don't have to believe him to wonder about his case. As I said a moment ago—only Jim doesn't remember—if he's lying, it makes the whole business more interesting, not less. In any case, I've got spiritualism on my mind at the moment. When this kind of coincidence comes up, I always take it as a hint there's something going on."
"Poor old Fred," said Jim. "The decay of a fine mind. ..."
"What about spiritualism, then?" said Webster. "Is there anything in it?"
"Plenty," said Frederick, refilling his glass. "There's fraud, there's gullibility, there's fear—not so much fear of death as fear of there being nothing after it—there's loneliness, there's hope, there's vanity; and maybe in the middle of it all there's something real."
"Get away," said Jim. "It's all poppycock."
"Well, if you want to find out, tomorrow night there's a meeting of the Streatham and District Spiritualist League—"
"Load o' rubbish!"
"—^which might interest your broad, sympathetic, and ever-open mind. Especially as there's something odd going on. Care to come along and have a look?"
Qlelke ^JJ
Frederick wasn't the only person to be inter-ested in spiritualism, by a long way. It was one of the burning concerns of the time. Humble parlors, fashionable drawing