But he “got it in the neck” a little later. He released himself from handcuffs—which is easily done by slipping the mainspring of a watch into the ratchets and off they come. He, unfortunately, challenged everybody to produce any sort of manacle and he would open it. Dick Power, then chief of the provincial police, came forward with a brand new shackle. It had never been used before. It was locked on Dick’s leg, a handkerchief thrown over it, and the Professor tried in vain to open it. He couldn’t get the mainspring into the ratchet, and was finally compelled to admit his inability to do so.
Telepathy and Fortune Telling.
All this is different from telepathy and spirits. One night not so very long ago I was awakened by hearing Reggie Graves’ voice just outside my bedroom door, saying, “George Ham, George Ham, George H. Ham of the C.P.R.” This continued for some time, and I also recognized Brent MacNab’s voice. It was absurd to imagine that they were in the hallway of my house at that unearthly hour, two o’clock in the morning. When I turned on the light, the voices ceased; when I turned it off Reggie recommenced calling my name. I pinched myself to see if I was awake or dreaming, but after half an hour or so the calling ceased for good and I fell asleep.
The next night at two o’clock I was again awakened by Reggie’s voice calling upon me as it had the night previous. The calling continued while the light was off and ceased when it was turned on. After a while I lighted a cigarette, smoked part of it, and, extinguishing the fire, placed it on a small stand at my bedside. If it was there in the morning, this telepathy calling was no dream. True enough in the morning the cigarette was just where I had put it. Three or four evenings later, Reggie and Brent dropped in to see me, and I related what I have just written.
“It’s true,” exclaimed Reggie, “it’s true—I was in great distress and bodily pain and you were my only sheet anchor and I called you both nights.”
Reggie was at his home at Ste. Rose seventeen miles away.
Another night I was awakened by women’s voices at 4 a.m. and, while I could not hear what they said, could easily distinguish the voice of one of the ladies. Just for fun I ’phoned her next day, and told her she had not gone to bed until four o’clock and she related how a neighbor had been ill and she had gone in to see her and stayed with her until that late hour. The sick woman’s house was nearly a mile away from my residence.
Then there is fortune-telling—by cards and by tea cup. A clever reader of the remaining tea leaves can make up a mighty good story, from one’s imaginative powers and the knowledge of the person whose tea-cup is being read. Cards are different, and apparently are read by the proximity of one card dealt out of the pack to the others that follow. However that may be, I know of several instances where the fortune-teller’s predictions came absolutely true. One happened while crossing the Atlantic on board the old Champlain, when a lady acquaintance one lazy afternoon offered to tell my fortune. The cards told her, and she told me, that I would hear very bad news on my arrival at St. John, and would learn of the death of a very close friend. True enough, I was handed a letter from Mell Duff before I left the ship informing me of the death of my very intimate friend, Bob Morris, general baggage agent of the C.P.R., of Montreal. The other instance occurred in Shediac, N.B., when one rainy afternoon on going to Weldon’s Hotel, I found my wife packing her trunk. She told me that a lady had told her fortune an hour or so before, and the cards predicted that she was to leave the place immediately. Of course, I laughed over her unseemly haste, but a few minutes later received a rush telegram from Mr. McNicoll instructing me to report at once at headquarters. We left for Montreal next morning, and I have been stationed there ever since.
Besides these, there is palmistry. That is an old art, and anyone who studies a book on palmistry can correctly read the lines of anybody’s hand.