‘Let us go now,’ Sir Geoffrey cried eagerly. ‘Why should we waste any more time talking here?’
‘Because things are not prepared. The shades from another world do not come forth at a moment’s bidding to show themselves to mortal eyes, though the air is full of them now.’
Sir Geoffrey looked uneasily around for any traces of these ghostly visitors, though he could see nothing; nevertheless, the idea of a chamber full of supernatural bodies was by no means pleasant.
‘Then our pact is complete,’ Le Gautier continued. ‘Briefly, it stands thus: I am to show you such things as you wish to see; and in return, you become a member of our Brotherhood, swearing to promote its welfare by all the means in your power. Quick! say the word, for I feel the unseen influence upon me.’
‘Yes, yes—agreed; only show me my brother.’
As Sir Geoffrey spoke, a change came over Le Gautier’s face; the baronet watching him, perfectly fascinated. The medium’s eyes grew larger and more luminous, his features became rigid, and he moved like a man who walks in a dream. His gaze was fixed upon the other, but there was no sense of recognition there—all was blank and motionless. He rose from his chair, moving towards the door, his hands groping for it like the action of the blind, and he beckoned to Sir Geoffrey to follow him out along the dark passage.
‘Come!’ he said in a strange hollow voice—‘come with me! The spirits are abroad, and have need of me!’
The room they entered was situated at the back of the house, having a large old-fashioned bay window of the shape and form one sees in the banqueting-room of old country-houses—a long narrow room, draped entirely in black; and the only light in the place proceeded from two small oil-lamps held by white Parian statues. As the twain entered, the draperies were violently agitated, as if by a sudden wind; an icy current seemed to strike them full in the face. A chair, impelled forward by an unseen hand, was pushed across the bare floor, and Sir Geoffrey, at a motion from his companion, seated himself therein. Le Gautier stepped forward towards the window, and lighted a flat brasier, sprinkling some sort of powder upon it, and immediately the room was filled with a dense violet mist, through which the oil-lamps shone dimly. The weird music commenced again, and as it died away, a loud report was heard, and the curtains across the window were wrenched apart, disclosing an open space. As Sir Geoffrey gazed into it, a form began to appear, misty at first, then getting gradually clearer, till the watcher saw the figure of a girl, dim and slight, for he could see the woodwork of the window behind, but clear enough to see she was fair and young, with thick masses of long yellow hair hanging over her shoulders, and half hiding her face from sight. There was a look of sadness on the brow.
‘You may speak,’ the strange hollow tones of Le Gautier came through the mist. ‘If you have any questions to ask, put them; but, at the peril of your life, do not attempt to move.’
With the most reverent and holy belief in the reality of the scene before him, Sir Geoffrey gazed at the downcast features. To his diseased mind, he was on the borderland of another world, and the very thought of speaking to the bright vision was full of awe.