III.
I consulted with my friend, Mr. J. Elfreth Watkins, a clever journalist and interested inquirer into the methods of spiritists and occultists, and we decided to investigate Dr. Albert de Sarak, the Thibetan adept. Mr. Watkins was to go first and have an interview with him, with the idea of exploiting the Count in a newspaper article on modern magic and theosophy; eventually we were to attend one of the mystic’s séances together. I shall let Mr. Watkins tell the story in his own words:
“I addressed a letter to Dr. Sarak by post requesting an appointment. I received a prompt response in the form of a courteous note, headed ‘Oriental Esoteric Center of Washington,’ and which commenced: ‘Your letter, which I have received, reveals to me a man of noble sentiments.’ An hour was named and the letter bore the signature, ‘Dr. A. Count de Sarak,’ beneath which were inscribed several Oriental characters. {261}
“I found Monsieur le Comte’s house in Corcoran street, late in the appointed afternoon. It was a two-story cottage of yellow brick with English basement, and surmounting the door was an oval medallion repeating the inscription of Monsieur’s letterhead. A young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes responded to my ring. I was invited upstairs, she following. Before me was the mind picture of a Lama with yellowed and wrinkled visage, vested in folds of dingy red, with iron pencase at his side and counting the beads of a wooden rosary; a Yoge of the great hills; who should say to me, ‘Just is the wheel,’ or ‘Thou hast acquired merit.’
“I was directed to the door of the rear parlor on the main floor, and as I opened it there sat before me, at a modern roller-top desk, a man of slender build and medium height, but with one of the most striking physiognomies I have ever beheld.
“The face was that of a sheik of the desert. The hair was of the blackest and so was the beard, sparse at the side but rather full in front and not long. The eyes were huge, languid and dreamy; the forehead, bared by the training of the hair straight back, was high and bisected by a vein falling vertically between prominences over the brows. The nose was strongly aquiline, and the complexion was more that of the Oriental than of the Latin. The man wore a long, black frock-coat of the mode and faultless in fit; his trousers and waistcoat were of a rough gray cloth.
“Monsieur le Comte rose. The hand which grasped mine was small and soft. He bowed, pointed to a seat and apologized for his crude English, explaining that he preferred to talk to me through an interpreter. The young woman who had ushered me into the presence of Monsieur seated herself at his side and explained that, although ‘the doctor’ had mastered fourteen tongues, the English had been the most difficult of all for him to fathom. After a pause, Monsieur addressed me in French. The interpreter rolled her blue eyes slightly upward and assumed the gaze of one seeing far away into the sky, through the wall before her—an expression which she seldom changed during the entire interview. {262}
“ ‘Through my power of second sight was revealed to me your mission before you arrived,’ was the interpretation. ‘And now that you come, a good spirit seems to attend you, and I know that you come as a friend. I assure you also that I welcome you as a friend.’ The translations were made a sentence at a time.
“I assured Monsieur that this was deeply appreciated.
“I asked him if it might be my good fortune to witness some of his esoteric manifestations, such as I had heard of his performing.