The tests were spread over several evenings. I can only give brief samples of what occurred. When Doc. and I sat down to the table we were the centre of a little crowd of spectators and “detectives,” for there was nothing secret about the séances.
“Bandage the beggars for a start,” somebody suggested.
Handkerchiefs were tied round our eyes.
“Who are you?” asked Alec.
The glass began to move about. I was writing rubbish. Some sceptic laughed.
“Wait a bit,” said Price. “It always begins like that. Now who are you?”
“S-I-double L-Y, Silly!” the sceptic read out. “That’s rather a poor shot for ‘Sally.’ The bandage affects the Spook, it seems.”
“A-S-S,” the Spook went on. “I-T M-A-K-E-S N-O D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-C-E.”
“We’ll see!” said the sceptic. I felt the board being moved under my hand. “Now who are you?”
As the glass circled under my right hand, I felt for and found the secret nicks with my left thumb.