‘Do you doubt now? Le Gautier asked. ‘Does your unbelieving mind still run upon trickery or mechanism, or are you convinced?’
‘I must believe,’ the weak old man replied; ‘I have no alternative. I put myself in your hands. Tell me what I am to do.’
‘Your own conscience must guide you, and what the spirits will to-night must be obeyed. It is no question for me to decide; I am merely the humble instrument, the medium between one world and another. I dare not advise you. When your nerves are sufficiently braced to meet the dead, I will restore the communication.—Are you afraid?’
‘No, no!’ cried the baronet; ‘I am not afraid.’
A cold, icy hand touched him on the cheek, and a low voice whispered in his ear the words: ‘You are!’ Trembling, frightened, he rose from his chair; and then suddenly the room was filled with a great light, showing the baronet’s set face, and Le Gautier’s pallid features wearing a sardonic smile. Hardly had the light appeared, when it was gone, leaving the room in double darkness at the change. A yell of harsh, discordant laughter rang out, dying away to a moan.
‘What is that, Le Gautier?’ Sir Geoffrey asked. ‘Is this all real, or am I merely dreaming?’
‘The spirits laugh at your audacity. You boasted you were not afraid, whilst you are trembling in every limb. You dare not say it again!’
‘I am alarmed, mystified,’ he said; ‘but I am not afraid.’
A mocking shout of laughter followed this speech, and the words, ‘You lie!’ as if uttered in chorus, were distinctly heard. A cold hand clutched Sir Geoffrey by the throat, holding him till he could hardly breathe. In his intense agitation, he snatched at a shadowy arm, and suddenly the hand relaxed its grip. Le Gautier struck a match and lighted the candles.
‘Are you afraid now?’ he asked quietly.