“I told you he wasn’t here. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you call the cops.”
“We not want cops. I come in and watch.”
“But I’m going to hold a circle here in a few minutes.”
“What?” Arima’s voice had a puzzled note.
“A séance. The spirits come. You know. All sit around, with the light turned down, and spirits come.”
“Oh!” The Japanese either understood or pretended to. “I come, then.”
After a period of hesitation the woman said: “Why, yes, I guess you can—if you keep still. Your friend can come, too. You’re a neighbor, and I won’t charge you anything.”
“All right. I call my friend.” Footsteps crossed the room and the door to the hall was opened. Presently it closed again, and Orme heard fragments of a conversation in Japanese.
From other sounds Orme gathered that the woman was arranging chairs. “Sit here, you two,” he heard her say. “You’ll have to keep quiet when the rest come. Do just what they do? Be sure, now.”
The bell now began to ring at frequent intervals, each time announcing the arrival of newcomers. Madame Alia’s clients were quickly assembling; Orme could hear them whispering among themselves.