“Or spiritualist, as some say. The thing has various names.”
“The power, if any power is possessed by these people,” said Mr. Dainty, with strong evidence of feeling, “is demoniac.”
“Just what I have said from the beginning,” replied Mrs. Brainard. “I have seen much evil, but no good, result from these disorderly practices. Had I known Mrs. Jeckyl to be a ‘medium,’ she would not have found entrance into my house. I have closed my doors against more than one of them.”
“Then Mrs. Jeckyl mesmerized the ladies to whom you refer?”
“She had table-tippings, rappings, writings, and all sorts of diablerie going on in their rooms for nearly a week, turning the heads of my boarders, when I closed down upon her with a strong hand, adding a notice to vacate her apartment. She demurred, and was insolent. But I have a will of my own, sir, and was not to be thwarted. If she had not left at the time specified in my notice, I would have had her trunk set out on the pavement.”
“I cannot but applaud your spirit,” said Mr. Dainty. “Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. But time passes, and I must not linger. What you say of the woman only adds to my anxiety and fear. I must find her, and rescue my child, ere sleep closes an eyelid.”
“Heaven give you success!” said Mrs. Brainard.
Taking a carriage, Mr. Dainty was driven rapidly to Fifth and Noble, where he alighted, and commenced to make inquiries from house to house; but no one had heard of a Mrs. Jeckyl. After a fruitless search of half an hour, it occurred to him that the woman might have assumed another name: so he went over the ground again, describing her person.
“There was such a woman here.” He received this reply at one of the houses where he called.
“Was her name Jeckyl?”