Our talks were long and earnest. We examined and rejected scores of possibilities. And we finally decided, first, to aim at being “jugged” without cause or trial; or, failing that, to get ourselves sentenced to imprisonment, after a public trial, on a charge of obtaining War news by telepathic communications. I knew I could beat the Turkish censor and get details of the charge and sentence to England, and if this charge was not absurd enough to galvanize our War Office or the Dutch Embassy into protest, we would give up all hope of outside assistance bringing us our compassionate release, and rely, as Mr. Smiles advises good boys to do, on Self-Help.
It took exactly a month to achieve our aim. The first “Dispensary Séance” was held on February 6th, 1918. On March 6th, on the charge of obtaining and sending military information by means of telepathy, Hill and I were arrested, tried in the presence of brother officers, and condemned to solitary confinement until the end of the War.
The genius that brought about this desirable state of affairs was the Spook. A verbatim report of every question and answer set to, and given by, our spirit-guide between February 6th and the date we left Yozgad is before me as I write. It is a transcript of the records carefully kept by the Pimple, who had read Raymond (a copy reached our camp just about this time), and by our advice modelled his attitude on that of Sir Oliver Lodge. Indeed, except in the matter of fame, the two had something in common, for in civil life the Pimple also called himself a Professor. So, thanks to his industry and “scientific methods” of research, it is possible to give an accurate summary of the doings and sayings of our “Control,” and where necessary to quote its exact words. For the historian the scientific method has much to commend itself.
Our Spook began by greeting Hill with every symptom of friendliness. The glass did not exactly “caress” him—we had not yet reached such advanced proficiency—but it spelled out its delight at the meeting, and it ignored the Pimple. It went on to warn us we were making an improper use of the Ouija. It was wrong to seek gain, wrong and dangerous, especially for “dear C.W.H.” Under the best possible conditions the discovery of the treasure would take a long time, possibly many months. And the present conditions were hopeless.
“You must live together,” said the Spook to Hill and myself, “so that your two minds become as one mind and your thoughts are one thought. Also it is most necessary that it be all kept profoundly secret. Above all you must be free from other thought influences; ... the other prisoners unconsciously project their thoughts between you, thus preventing unity. You ought to be removed elsewhere. Even prison would be better for you than this. It would be easier to communicate if you were alone. In one or two months you could attain more rapid methods, such as direct speech, but it is hopeless without privacy and peaceful surroundings. Remember I, too, have immense difficulties on this side. Ask them” (i.e., the Commandant and the Pimple) “either to give up all hope of my help in finding the treasure, or do what I say and remove you.” And It again suggested we should be clapped into prison.
Then Moïse dropped into French, which he imagined neither Hill nor I understood.
“Remove? Déménager pour de bon, or go for a sitting?”
“Pour de bon, mon ami,” the Spook replied. “C’est absolument nécessaire.” He added that it was necessary in order that the mediums “might get into tune.” Without being “in tune” they could not find the treasure.
This was enough for one sitting, so the “force began to go,” as the Spiritualists put it, and the Pimple found himself confronted with the delicate task of breaking the news to the mediums. It must be borne in mind that, as is usual with all mediums of any standing, Hill and I were always “absolutely ignorant” of what had been said by the Spook until the Pimple saw fit to read it out to us. At times it was a matter of no little difficulty to avoid displaying our knowledge of what had occurred. When, for example, the Pimple had omitted a negative, or in some other simple way altered the whole tenor of the Spook’s order, it was extremely tempting to correct him. But that would have been fatal. We learned to endure his mistakes in silence.
The Pimple told us, very gently and very sympathetically, that the Control wanted to put us in prison. Hill and I were, of course, suitably horror-stricken—but we gradually allowed ourselves to be persuaded to endure even prison if necessary. For we admitted that there seemed to be no other way of finding the treasure, and that I was pledged to the Commandant to do my best. Besides, Hill let out casually, he had had one experience in Australia of thwarting a Spook’s wishes, and not for all the wealth of the Indies would he risk such a thing again. Moïse naturally asked what the experience was, but Hill could only cover his face with his hands and shudder. It was TOO DREADFUL to be told.