Mailey took it from the desk and read aloud.
“‘I, Silas Linden, hereby admit that I have acted as a rogue and a scoundrel by simulating to be a spirit, and I swear that I will never again in my life pretend to be a medium. Should I break this oath, then this signed confession may be used for my conviction in the police court.’”
“Will you sign that?”
“No, I am damned if I will!”
“Shall I give him another squeeze?” asked Lord Roxton. “Perhaps I could choke some sense into him—what!”
“Not at all,” said Mailey. “I think that his case now would do good in the police court, for it would show the public that we are determined to keep our house clean. I’ll give you one minute for consideration, Linden, and then I ring up the police.”
But it did not take a minute for the impostor to make up his mind.
“All right,” said he in a sulky voice, “I’ll sign.”
He was allowed to rise with a warning that if he played any tricks he would not get off so lightly the second time. But there was no kick left in him and he scrawled a big, coarse “Silas Linden” at the bottom of the paper without a word. The three men signed as witnesses.
“Now, get out!” said Mailey, sharply. “Find some honest trade in future and leave sacred things alone!”