“How do you mean, ‘straight’?”
“This spooking business! Is it genuine?”
“Jack,” I would say confidentially (or Dick, or Tom, as the case might be), “I’ll tell you something. The whole thing is mysterious. I assure you there is no arrangement whatsoever between the Doc. and myself. The camp think we are in league for a leg-pull. But we’re not. We took this business up as an enquiry—see, here’s the original postcard.”
And I would produce the well-worn bit of cardboard which first suggested the spooking, and gently disentangle Jack’s fingers from my buttonhole.
Perhaps “Jack” would be satisfied and go away, or perhaps he would be a persistent blighter and carry on.
“But how is it done, Bones?”
“You mean, what makes the glass move?”
“Well—yes.”
“My own theory—it may be wrong, of course, because I’ve never done much at Psychical Research—my own theory is that the movement must be due to muscular action on the part of the mediums. I believe Oliver Lodge and those other Johnnies hold that the muscular action is subconscious, but that is Tommy-rot. Anything is subconscious so long as you don’t think of the process of thought, and nothing is subconscious so long as it is known. Besides,” I would add, looking up into my questioner’s face as innocently as I could, “as soon as the glass begins to move about I am quite conscious of every movement. That’s straight. The Doc. will tell you the same thing. I must admit that he has often pointed out to me that one seems to be following the glass about. He has been analysing his own sensations from the medical point of view, and he is rather interesting on this point. You should ask him about it.”
“I will,” Jack would say, and off he would go to cross-examine the poor old Doc.