![]() She received him bravely, with just a shade of quiet emotion. The medium took in her small, tight, patrician features and porcelain-like hands, and wondered how Faull came by such a sister. She had been playing Scriabin and was overcome. They found the lady alone, sitting by the open pianoforte in a pensive attitude. “I will be delighted,” said Backhouse coldly. She sometimes does me the kindness to act as my hostess, as I am unmarried.” I prefer to have nothing to do with it till the time arrives.” Flicking his cigar into the fire, he got up and helped himself to whisky. “Well, that’s all right, then,” said Faull. I only hope they will enjoy the performance to the end.” There will be ladies present, and ladies, you know, are aesthetically inclined.” “But this is not a theatrical performance.” “I mean the decoration of the séance room, the music, and so forth.”īackhouse stared at his host. “I am unaware that any are necessary, beyond chairs for your guests.” “Would you care to hear what arrangements I have made?” Faull sprawled in his chair, and remained apathetic. “Nine o’clock was the time specified, I believe?” I have your check written out in my pocket.” “That’s good, for I would not like my guests to be disappointed. ![]() “Everything is satisfactory? The materialisation will take place?” “Do you smoke?” drawled Faull, by way of starting the conversation. As he tranquilly studied him through half closed lids and the smoke of a cigar, he wondered how this little, thickset person with the pointed beard contrived to remain so fresh and sane in appearance, in view of the morbid nature of his occupation. Backhouse, on the contrary, was a novelty to the merchant. Faull’s prominent, clear-cut features, metallic-looking skin, and general air of bored impassiveness, did not seem greatly to impress the medium, who was accustomed to regard men from a special angle. Having indicated an easy chair before the fire to his guest, the South American merchant sank back again into his own. The host, eying him with indolent curiosity, got up, and the usual conventional greetings were exchanged. The room was illuminated only by the light of a blazing fire. On a March evening, at eight o’clock, Backhouse, the medium-a fast-rising star in the psychic world-was ushered into the study at Prolands, the Hampstead residence of Montague Faull.
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