Either Nightingale or Bishop (I did not know which at the time) was fudging. I knew this for certain because they were using “spooks” of my own creation. It puzzled me at the time to know why they should not have invented spooks of their own. I learned long afterwards that mine were adopted because it was thought that my show was possibly genuine. If so, what could be more natural than that the spirits which haunted the Upper House should also be found next door?
The position was now rather funny. I knew, of course, that both “shows” were frauds. The villain of the piece in the Hospital House knew his own show was a fraud, but was not sure about mine. The majority of the camp, on the other hand, were inclined to think there might be something in the Hospital House exhibition, although they had viewed mine with suspicion. But if they accepted the Hospital House, they had to accept ours too, the spooks being the same. And, in the course of time, that was what happened.
The development in the Hospital House had another result. My little “rag” was assuming larger proportions than I had intended, and as often happens in this funny old world, circumstances were beginning to tie me up. I could not now confess without giving somebody else away at the same time as myself. Besides, I did not very much want to confess. The “conversion” of a large portion of the camp was in sight, for Doc. was quite right in his analysis of the situation, and the entry of Bishop and Nightingale on the scene had disposed everybody to further enquiry into the matter. The position was beginning to have a keen psychological interest for me.
So I compromised with my conscience. Freeland drew for me a fitting poster—a picture of a spook-glass and board, and beneath it I placed a notice which said that ours was the original Psychical Research Society of Yozgad, that it had no connection with any other firm, and that we held séances on stated evenings. Our fellow-prisoners were asked to attend. The closest inspection was invited. The poster ended by saying that the mediums each suspected the other and would welcome any enquirer who could decide how the rational movements of the glass were caused. Muscular action, thought transference, spiritualism and alcoholism were suggested to the camp as possible solutions.
Shortly after this notice was put up, Doc. and I were asked if we objected to a series of “tests.” Doc., strong in his own innocence, welcomed the suggestion. As for me, it was exactly what I wanted—the raison d’être of my notice. Up to now it had been “a shame to take the money.” This put us on a reasonable basis. If all were discovered, as I expected would be the case, I’d get my poshing, there would be a good laugh all round, and that would be the end of it. If by any fluke of fortune I survived, the testers would only have themselves to blame afterwards. It was now a fair fight—my wits against the rest—catch as catch can, and all grips allowed. Neither the Doc. nor I made any conditions, nor did we want to know beforehand the nature of the tests to which we were to be subjected.
But I took my precautions. I secretly nicked the edges of the circle on which the letters were written in such a way that I could always recognize, by touch, the position of the board.
CHAPTER III
HOW THE MEDIUMS WERE TESTED
There was an empty room that formed part of the passage-way between the two portions of the Upper House. It was insanitary, draughty, and cheerless. It had an uneven brick floor of Arctic coldness. The view from the broken-paned, closely-barred window was restricted to a blank wall and a few ruined houses. Here, in the early days before the Turk increased our accommodation, five unhappy officers of the Worcester Yeomanry had learned the full bitterness of captivity. They were not very big men, but when they were all lying down on the floor together (as they usually were, poor devils) there was barely space to step between them, which shows the size of the room. Of its general undesirability no better proof is wanted than that it remained uninhabited after the “Cavalry Club” had found better quarters. One thing only would have induced anyone to take up his dwelling there—the hope of privacy. But the room was not even private. It was a thoroughfare, the only means of getting from the northern to the southern half of the house.
It was not allowed to remain quite idle. Its dirty “white”-washed walls, brushwood ceiling, broken windows, and uneven floor saw the birth of many schemes for alleviating the monotony of existence in Yozgad. Here was rehearsed our first Christmas Pantomime—“The Fair Maid of Yozgad”—which is perhaps unique amongst pantomimes in that it had to be performed secretly, at midnight, after the guards had done their nightly round. For in it Holyoake and Dorling had given full rein to our feelings towards our captors, and it would not have been polite—or judicious—for “honoured guests” to have expressed themselves quite so freely in public. Here Sandes’s orchestra of home-made instruments used to hold their practices, which caused a keen student of Darwin to vow he had no further interest in one branch of evolution—that of music. Here “Little, Stoker & Co.” made their gallant attempt to start an illicit still, and here, finally, the “Spook” took up his abode.