He poured out some and I drank it, being careful to rinse the glass afterward.
“Well,” said Sperry, when he had lighted a cigar. “So you want to know where we are.”
“I would like to save something out of the wreck.”
“That’s easy. Horace, you should be a heart specialist, and I should have taken the law. It’s as plain as the alphabet.” He took his notes of the sittings from his pocket. “I’m going to read a few things. Keep what is left of your mind on them. This is the first sitting.
“‘The knee hurts. It is very bad. Arnica will take the pain out.’
“I want to go out. I want air. If I could only go to sleep and forget it. The drawing-room furniture is scattered all over the house.”
“Now the second sitting:
“‘It is writing.’ (The stick.) ‘It is writing, but the water washed it away. All of it, not a trace.’ ‘If only the pocketbook were not lost. Car-tickets and letters. It will be terrible if the letters are found.’ ‘Hawkins may have it. The curtain was much safer.’ ‘That part’s safe enough, unless it made a hole in the floor above.’”
“Oh, if you’re going to read a lot of irrelevant material—”
“Irrelevant nothing! Wake up, Horace! But remember this. I’m not explaining the physical phenomena. We’ll never do that. It wasn’t extraordinary, as such things go. Our little medium in a trance condition has read poor Clara’s mind. It’s all here, all that Clara knew and nothing that she didn’t know. A mind-reader, friend Horace. And Heaven help me when I marry her!”