Spook. “No treasure business today. Good-bye.”
Several hours later, about 5 p.m., Moïse came to us in a state of great excitement, and said, “Major Gilchrist has just given me a speech to translate into Turkish. It is to be given to the Commandant tonight. I am sure the Spook has written this also. Let us ask him.”
We got out the Ouija, and Moïse read the speech aloud to the Control. The speech was as follows:
“M. le Commandant, and Gentlemen. We are assembled here to-night by the kind permission of the Commandant to celebrate the end of the Ski season. During the past three and a half months we have been very fortunate in having had excellent snow and suitable weather for ski-ing, but this would have availed us nothing if the Commandant, with a truly sporting spirit, had not stretched a point and allowed us full vent for our energies. If the Commandant looks at those assembled here, I am sure he will agree that we all show by our fitness the great benefit he has conferred on us by allowing us so much freedom to get exercise and plenty of fresh air. Gentlemen, I ask you to rise with me and drink the health of the Commandant according to our usual custom, with musical honours. ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow, etc.’”
Moïse (to Control). “Is your speech in reply to this?”
Spook. “Of course it is, you might have guessed it.”
Moïse. “We did guess it, Sir. Thank you very much indeed. It is wonderful.”
What really was wonderful was the fact that Gilchrist should have hit upon the idea of getting his speech written out in Turkish to be handed to Kiazim Bey at the dinner—and that the very same idea should have cropped up in our séance a few hours earlier. For Kiazim, with the Spook’s approval, was to hand in an English copy in the same way! So far as I am aware the handing over of a written translation of a speech had never been thought of at a previous function in Yozgad. It was another of those coincidences which may help the reader to sympathize with our victims’ belief in the powers of the Spook. Indeed, it is not a bad parallel to the “Honolulu incident” in Raymond, and I may be considered wrong in calling it a “coincidence.” Spiritualists would no doubt find an easy explanation in “telepathy.” Pah!
Bimbashi Kiazim Bey spent the afternoon in learning his speech by heart, and delivered it in great style at the dinner that night, to the accompaniment of uproarious cheering, which we could hear from our room. Next day the English copy of it was posted up on the camp notice-board. A good many people thought the English too idiomatic to be the Pimple’s composition, but no one knew who had written it, and the general impression was that the Commandant was showing signs of being a reformed character.
The five courses of the Ski Club dinner were sent over to us by our good friends in Posh Castle, and a bottle of raki with them. The Spook, it will be remembered, had luckily given us a complete holiday to eat what we liked on this day. (This was not a coincidence but the reverse.) We knew it was likely to be our last decent meal for many a long day, and we did full justice to it. For in response to repeated and urgent secret signals from us, Price had at last consented to send us no more food, and henceforward, until we had beaten the doctors, our diet was to be bread and tea. In the lean days that lay ahead, in misery and sickness and starvation, that dinner was to be a very joyous memory to both of us.