Four
Another month went past. In a few days my somewhat wearying stay at Hilston would draw to a close. Chimer had returned to Port Elizabeth, whence he had written to tell me of a remarkable manifestation which had taken place under his mediumship, in the course of which he had actually communicated with Isaac’s spirit. Isaac said that he had caused the manifestation in the billiard-room, but that he did not mean to do the like again. After this, he had obstinately refused to answer any more questions. This, Chimer considered, proved that Isaac dead was more or less of the same disobliging nature as Isaac had been living—a strong collateral evidence of the genuineness of both his messages from the unseen. However, so far as manifestations were concerned, Isaac had hitherto kept his word, for the harmony of the billiard-room had not again been disturbed. The episode of the triangle and the scattered balls was almost forgotten, and the muddy trickle of belated life around the renovated table had long since resumed its normal course.
I had, all along, been keenly anxious to unravel the mystery of the locomotive triangle and the crashing balls, but hitherto all my efforts had been vain. I had from the beginning suspected Scarren of having had a hand in the business, and had over and over again attempted to draw him out on the subject. He, however, with much adroitness, had invariably turned the conversation to the topic of eel-fishing. However, the suspicion that Scarren could explain the matter if he only would, grew on me day by day, and I determined to make a desperate assault upon the citadel of his reserve before leaving Hilston. I had accidentally found out that whenever I fixed him with my eye, Scarren became very uneasy and endeavoured to escape. After this discovery I ceased to question him, but whenever I could manage to do so, I fixed him with a steady stare. Each successive time this happened he squirmed more and more until, at length, he got to avoiding me by means of the most obvious and awkward shifts.
At length—it was two days before my intended departure—I caught him alone in the billiard-room, where I had seen him enter with a paraffin can for the purpose of replenishing the lamps. I followed him, shut the door behind me, walked slowly to where he stood in the corner fumbling at a lamp with feverish and ostentatious activity, and stood behind him, relentless as Fate. First of all he pretended to be unaware of my presence, then he gave a hurried and startled glance over his shoulder.
“Scarren,” said I, “you might as well own up. How did you manage it?”
He tried to bolt incontinently, but I got between him and the door.
“Don’t be a fool,” I said reassuringly. “I don’t want to get you into a row; if you own up freely, I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Well, sir, I’ll have to tell you, but for God’s sake don’t give me away. It isn’t that I am afraid of getting the sack—although that, of course, would follow; but I’ve a reason for keeping it dark which you’d never guess, and which I can’t tell you.”
“Scarren,” I rejoined with solemn severity, “you’ll have to tell me all about it, mind that. I shall not stick to my promise if you keep a single word back. Speak up at once, or else look out.”
He went quietly to the doorway and looked out to see that no one was listening. Then he carefully closed the door, after which he returned on tiptoe to the corner where I was standing with a stern visage but a triumphant heart.