Malone thought of the strange visionary Miromar and his speech at the Spiritualistic Church on the first night of his quest.
“Do you then believe in some impending event?” he asked.
Mailey smiled. “That is rather a large subject to open up,” he said. “I believe—But here is Mr. Chang again!”
The control joined in the conversation.
“I heard you. I sit and listen,” said he. “You speak now of what is to come. Let it be! Let it be! The Time is not yet. You will be told when it is good that you know. Remember this. All is best. Whatever come all is best. God makes no mistakes. Now others here who wish your help, I leave you.”
Several spirits came through in quick succession. One was an architect who said that he had lived at Bristol. He had not been an evil man, but had simply banished all thoughts of the future. Now he was in the dark and needed guidance. Another had lived in Birmingham. He was an educated man but a materialist. He refused to accept the assurances of Mailey, and was by no means convinced that he was really dead. Then came a very noisy and violent man of a crudely-religious and narrowly-intolerant type, who spoke repeatedly of “the blood.”
“What is this ribald nonsense?” he asked several times.
“It is not nonsense. We are here to help,” said Mailey.
“Who wants to be helped by the devil?”
“Is it likely that the devil would wish to help souls in trouble?”