They ruin their own results, and then when those results do not occur imagine that their own astuteness, rather than their own lack of understanding, has been the cause.
Hence it is that at humble gatherings all over the land, in an atmosphere of sympathy and of reverence, there are such happenings as the cold man of "Science" is never privileged to see.
All the sitters felt churned up by the preliminary altercation, but how much more did it mean to the sensitive centre of it all! To him the room was filled with conflicting rushes and eddies of psychic power, whirling this way or that, and as difficult for him to navigate as the rapids below Niagara. He groaned in his despair. Everything was mixed and confused. He was beginning as usual with his clairvoyance, but names buzzed in his etheric ears without sequence or order. The word "John " seemed to predominate, so he said. Did "John " mean anything to anyone? A cavernous laugh from Challenger was the only reply. Then he had the surname of Chapman. Yes, Mailey had lost a friend named Chapman. But, it was years ago and there seemed no reason for his presence, nor could he furnish his Christian name. "Budworth " -- no; no one would own to a friend named Budworth. Definite messages came across, but they seemed to have no reference to the present company. Everything was going amiss, and Malone's spirits sank to zero. Challenger sniffed so loudly that Ogilvy remonstrated.
"You make matters worse, sir, when you show your feelings," said he. "I can assure you that in ten years of constant experience I have never known the medium so far out, and I attribute it entirely to your own conduct."
"Quite so," said Challenger with satisfaction.
"I am afraid it is no use, Tom," said Mrs. Linden. "How are you feeling now, dear? Would you wish to stop?" But Linden under all his gentle exterior, was a fighter. He had in another form those same qualities which had brought his brother within an ace of the Lonsdale Belt.
"No, I think, maybe, it is only the mental part that is confused. If I am in trance I'll get past that. The physicals may be better. Anyhow I'll try."
The lights were turned lower until they were a mere crimson glimmer. The curtain of the cabinet was drawn. Outside it on the one side, dimly outlined to his audience, Tom Linden, breathing stertorously in his trance, lay back in a wooden armchair. His wife kept watch and ward at the other side of the cabinet.
But nothing happened.
Quarter of an hour passed. Then another quarter of an hour. The company was patient, but Challenger had begun to fidget in his seat. Everything seemed to have gone cold and dead. Not only was nothing happening, but somehow all expectation of anything happening seemed to have passed away.
"It's no use!" cried Mailey at last.
"I fear not," said Malone.
The medium stirred and groaned; he was waking up. Challenger gave an ostentatious yawn
"Is not this a waste of time?" he asked.
Mrs. Linden was passing her hand over the medium's head and brow. His eyes had opened.
"Any results?" he asked.
"It's no use, Tom. We shall have to postpone."
"I think so, too, " said Mailey.
"It is a great strain upon him under these adverse conditions," remarked Ogilvy, looking angrily at Challenger.
"I should think so," said the latter with a complacent smile.
But Linden was not to be beaten.
"The conditions are bad," said he. "The vibrations are all wrong. But I'll try inside the cabinet. It concentrates the force."
"Well, it's the last chance," said Mailey. "We may as well try it."
The armchair was lifted inside the cloth tent and the medium followed, drawing the curtain behind him.
"It condenses the ectoplasmic emanations," Ogilvy explained.
"No doubt," said Challenger. "At the same time in the interests of truth, I must point out that the disappearance of the medium is most regrettable."
"For goodness sake, don't start wrangling again," cried Mailey with impatience. "Let us get some results, and then it will be time enough to discuss their value."
Again there was a weary wait.