The séance achieved its end. The Commandant had not previously realized that Gilchrist had been acting under the Spook’s influence, nor had he known about the parole. He was therefore much pleased to find that the Spook was taking so much trouble on his behalf, and had such powers of controlling people. The letters, he thought, were an excellent idea. We thought so too, and we wrote plenty of them. Every letter was loud in its praises of the Turk, but the eulogies cloaked a very pretty cipher which informed our friends at home of our absurd conviction and asked for an enquiry. And every letter went off by the first mail after it had been written—a good fortnight ahead of those of the rest of the camp which, as the Pimple confessed to us, were regularly held back at Yozgad for local censoring. We thus created an express service of our own, and by its means sowed the seeds for our “Compassionate Release” stunt. We have since learnt what happened to these letters. They reached England in good time; they were submitted to very high quarters by my father, and he was solemnly advised to take no action, on the grounds that to betray knowledge of our fate would result in making the Turks believe we had secret means of communication with England, a belief that might have awkward consequences for us! So nothing was done. Luckily we did not know, and had always the pleasure of hoping for the best, which was good for us—it kept our courage up.
We were now in smooth water again, and proceeded to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. The country was still under snow, and the charcoal brazier over which we warmed ourselves was quite inadequate for our needs. Considering we were going to present the Turks with a treasure worth, according to the Spook, £28,000, this was absurdly mean treatment. The Spook ordered us a stove—a real big one—and we got it! Donkey-loads of wood were bought for us in the bazaar, at cheap rates. The Cook was put on fatigue by the Spook, and made to chop the wood up for us, to light the fire of a morning before we were out of bed, to sweep out our rooms, to run messages to the bazaar, and generally to attend to our comfort. He was delighted to do it. He even brought us some very pleasing dishes of Turkish food, and two kerosine lamps, with an ample supply of oil. The camp had been without kerosine for a year or more. We had burned crude Afion oil—a thick and very messy vegetable oil—which gave a miserable light and made reading after dark more of a toil than a pleasure. The new lamps were a real luxury, and our enjoyment of them was not lessened by the Pimple’s explanation that the kerosine was really a Turkish Government issue for prisoners, but as its price in the market was fabulous the Commandant did not issue it to the camp. He kept it for pin money!
There is no doubt we could have obtained anything the Spook ordered, short of freedom. But we took care the Spook should not order too much. Even in Turkey there is such a thing as “obtaining money by false pretences,” and it would never do to have such motives ascribed to us, should an enquiry be held. The Spook therefore announced that after a short period our diet would be reduced to dry bread. The alleged object of the low diet was “to increase clairvoyant powers.”[[23]] It promised to incite a certain officer to persuade the Commandant to stop the food from Posh Castle, so that the onus of our starvation should rest on the camp and not on the Turks. “Further,” said the Spook, “the mediums must remember to accept no monetary gain. They must pay cost price for all they receive. They should expect and accept only acts of kindness which cost nothing. Nor must they hope for a reward for their services in money or its equivalent. Their reward will come later.... When their time comes to pass over to other spheres the knowledge they have thus gained will be worth more to them than all the riches in Asia.”
“Why?” Moïse asked. “What is the reason they cannot get money?”
“In order to confine the study to true seekers after knowledge,” the Spook explained, “there must be no arrière pensée.“
The Cook was very much interested in the fact that we were to get none of the treasure. He questioned Moïse very carefully on the point. He was anxious to make sure that there was no possibility of a misunderstanding, and no chance of our claiming a share later. He was frankly out for business, was this “limb of Satan,” and quite openly delighted at the Spook’s orders.
And now an incident occurred which both amused and impressed the Commandant. One of the most capable officers in the camp got an idea which he no doubt fondly imagined would regain us our liberty. He acted on it with the promptitude for which he was renowned. He informed the Commandant, through the Interpreter, that Jones and Hill were a pair of infernal practical jokers, that they were lazy beggars who disliked cooking and had thrown the trouble of it on the camp in general and Posh Castle in particular, and that therefore they were confounded nuisances. There was no manner of doubt, he said, but that they were simply pulling the Commandant’s leg in order to live a life of ease, and his obvious plan was to send them back to the camp and let their fellow-prisoners deal with them as they deserved, or to make them do their own cooking.
Had the Commandant not been “in the know” our friend’s tactics might well have resulted in our being sent back to the camp. As it was, Kiazim Bey was vastly tickled at the theory of a leg-pull against himself, and pointed out to us with immense joy that the boot was on the other foot, and that he had successfully pulled the camp’s leg. Moreover, the episode redounded to the credit of the Spook, who had promised to send this very officer to complain about the trouble of sending us food. (We had received a hint that he might do so, but of that hint the Turks were, of course, in complete ignorance.) The Commandant was firmly convinced that his visitor had been acting under the Spirit’s control, as promised, and he was correspondingly impressed. When questioned about it the Spook modestly admitted responsibility, but explained that from now on It wished to do as little as possible of this “outside control work” in order to avoid “loss of force” which would be more usefully employed in finding the treasure.
At the end of the second séance, which also was devoted to soothing the Commandant’s difficulties and fears, there was a scene. The Pimple announced that he also had some private difficulties on which he wished to consult the Spook. So private were they that he had written them out, and would not utter them aloud. The Spirit would no doubt read the paper and answer them privately. Before I could formulate an excuse Hill, to my surprise, assented, and asked Moïse to place the paper of questions under the spook-board in the usual way. Moïse put his hand in his pocket, and then sprang to his feet in wild excitement, and began a search through all his pockets.
“Mon Dieu!” he cried. “I am spooked! It is gone!” He rushed about the room, looking under the table, in the cupboards, in the teapot—everywhere possible and impossible. Then he went through his pockets again and sank half hysterical on to my bed.