She had signed a release of all claims, but she would stoutly maintain that it was fraudulently secured, which would only further establish the fact that she had had a valid claim upon him. Nor did she fear the opposing counsel. She was lawyer enough to attend to her own case, she said. Her legal knowledge helped her through many a difficulty, and as she had been lawyer enough to file a declaration, she could get a rejoinder in shape whenever the answer should appear upon the court records. Oh, she knew how to handle a jury; she had done it before! In this case she would say: "Gentlemen of the jury:—There are many who believe that I merely seek for money. This is not true. I ask for a verdict that I may gain a husband. For all of the injury that I have received—lost time, lost money, lost reputation, years of suspense and hope deferred—I only ask for a verdict in consonance with what a man in Lyon's position should be compelled to give to one so grossly wronged. Gentlemen, if you give me a heavy verdict, you give me Mr. Lyon. I say this in all sincerity—yes, as a proof of my sincerity. I want the man, not his money; and a heavy verdict gives me the man, for Mr. Lyon is so penurious that he will marry me rather than pay the amount I claim. With him, he has so won my whole being, even in poverty I would feel richer than to live without him the possessor of millions!"
In delivering this eloquent peroration, Mrs. Winslow in reality rose upon a chair, and, figuratively, upon the giddy altitude of her dignity, and tossing back her head, elevating her eyebrows, looking peculiarly fierce with her great gray eyes, and flinging the back of her right hand into the palm of her left with quick, ringing strokes, delighted her audience of operatives, and male and female Spiritualists, who on this occasion crowded the reception-room and cheered their hostess as she descended from her improvised rostrum to order something to refill the glasses which had been enthusiastically emptied to her overwhelming success.
When business was dull with the woman, she would be certain to retain the company of the detectives, as it seemed that she was beginning to avoid being left alone as much as possible, and would, under no circumstances, allow them both to be absent at the same time. Though ordinarily careful of, and close with, her money, to keep my men at home on these, to her, dreary evenings, she would send for cigars, liquor, and choice fruits, and after considerable urging they would remain, when the conversation would invariably turn upon the Winslow-Lyon case, or some incident in the fair plaintiff's eventful life, which the gentlemen as invariably listened to with the closest interest and attention.
On one occasion Spiritualism was being discussed, when Mrs. Winslow touched on her early history, and the revelation then made to her which in after-life convinced her of the possession of supernatural powers. Her father had had several boxes of honey stolen from his bee-hives, when she was but a little girl. Search was made for them in every possible direction, but no trace of them could be found, whereupon she conveniently went into a trance, the first she had ever experienced, continuing in that state several hours, and finally awakening from it terribly exhausted. But the trance brought the honey, for a wonderful vision came upon her, wherein spirit-forms appeared clothed in overwhelming radiance, and, after caressing her spiritual form for some time, and making her realize that she was an accepted child of Light, pointed their dazzling celestial fingers towards an old hollow stump standing at the side of the road leading towards town. So powerful and penetrating was the light which radiated from these spirits that it seemed to permeate the stump, leaving its form perfect as ever, but making it wholly translucent, so that she could see the boxes of honey piled up within the stump as clearly as though she had been standing beside it and it had been made of glass. She gave this information to her father, who ridiculed the revelation, but was both curious and desirous of getting the honey, and went to the old stump, where he found the boxes uninjured and piled in precisely the same manner as described by his precocious child; all of which was related as if thoroughly believed—as it doubtless was—in a voice as hollow and mysterious as the stump itself, while the operatives preserved the utmost gravity and decorum, and impressed her in every way with their belief in her varied and wonderful power.
Her affection for Bristol continued for a few weeks unabated, and her most powerful arts were used in endeavoring to compel him to reciprocate it. These attempts went as far as a naturally lewd and naturally shrewd woman dare go—so far, in fact, that in one and the last instance they became absurdly ridiculous. There was no bolt upon the door of either of their sleeping-rooms, and, besides, it was necessary for Bristol to either retire first or step into Fox's room for a little chat, or a sociable smoke, as Mrs. Winslow had an unpleasant and persistent habit of disrobing for the night in the reception-room.
One evening, after Mrs. Winslow had given a select seance to a few admiring friends, including my detectives, Bristol had hurried off to bed, being tired of the mummery, and after being obliged to listen for some time to her tumblings and tappings about the room, had finally fallen into a peaceful doze of a few minutes' duration, when he was awakened by that undefinable yet irresistibly increasing sense of some sort of a presence, which often takes from one the power of expression, or action, but intensifies the mind's faculties. The gas in the reception-room had been turned low, and his door had been softly opened. The rooms were quite dark, but the light from the street-lamps were sufficient to show him the plump outlines of a form which he felt sure that if it had had an orthodox amount of clothing upon it he could recognize. It certainly seemed to be the form of a woman, and her long, dishevelled black hair fell all about her shoulders and below her waist, while her robe de nuit trailed behind her with fear-inspiring, tremulous rustlings. On came the robust ghost, and in the weird gloaming which filled the apartment, he saw the mysterious thing moving towards him, and in a sort of frenzy of excitement yelled:
"Who's that?"
No answer; but the slow, firm pace of the apparition came nearer to Bristol's bedside, and he partially rose upon his knees as if to defend himself.
"Say!—you!" shouted Bristol, "get—get out of here!"
But the ghostly figure came on as resistless as fate until it reached his bedside. By this time he had risen to his feet and was edging along the wall to escape, when to his horror he saw the spectre bound into the bed he had so expeditiously vacated and reach for him with a very business-like grasp which he nimbly eluded, and with a series of bounds and scrambles reached the floor. He stood where he had struck for a moment, addressing some very decided and italicized remarks to the lively ghost in his bed, and then, in one grand burst of virtuous indignation, made an impetuous dive at the figure, caught it by one of its very plump arms, brought the ghost from the bed with a mighty effort, and securing its left ear with his right hand, trotted the animated shadow out of his room and into the reception-room right up to the pier-glass, and then turning on one of the jets at its side, said to the magnificent ghost, in a voice husky from excitement and rage: