The Last Séance. Agatha ChristieЧитать онлайн книгу.
great gendarme of a woman,’ continued the old servant. ‘Why can’t she go and pray decently for her little one’s soul in a church, and burn a candle to Our Blessed Lady? Does not the good God know what is best for us?’
‘Answer the bell, Elise,’ said Raoul peremptorily.
She threw him a look, but obeyed. In a minute or two she returned ushering in the visitor.
‘I will tell my mistress you are here, Madame.’
Raoul came forward to shake hands with Madame Exe. Simone’s words floated back to his memory.
‘So big and so black.’
She was a big woman, and the heavy black of French mourning seemed almost exaggerated in her case. Her voice when she spoke was very deep.
‘I fear I am a little late, Monsieur.’
‘A few moments only,’ said Raoul, smiling. ‘Madame Simone is lying down. I am sorry to say she is far from well, very nervous and overwrought.’
Her hand, which she was just withdrawing, closed on his suddenly like a vice.
‘But she will sit?’ she demanded sharply.
‘Oh, yes, Madame.’
Madame Exe gave a sigh of relief, and sank into a chair, loosening one of the heavy black veils that floated round her.
‘Ah, Monsieur!’ she murmured, ‘you cannot imagine, you cannot conceive the wonder and the joy of these séances to me! My little one! My Amelie! To see her, to hear her, even—perhaps—yes, perhaps to be even able to—stretch out my hand and touch her.’
Raoul spoke quickly and peremptorily.
‘Madame Exe—how can I explain?—on no account must you do anything except under my express directions, otherwise there is the gravest danger.’
‘Danger to me?’
‘No, Madame,’ said Raoul, ‘to the medium. You must understand that the phenomena that occur are explained by Science in a certain way. I will put the matter very simply, using no technical terms. A spirit, to manifest itself, has to use the actual physical substance of the medium. You have seen the vapour of fluid issuing from the lips of the medium. This finally condenses and is built up into the physical semblance of the spirit’s dead body. But this ectoplasm we believe to be the actual substance of the medium. We hope to prove this some day by careful weighing and testing—but the great difficulty is the danger and pain which attends the medium on any handling of the phenomena. Were anyone to seize hold of the materialization roughly the death of the medium might result.’
Madame Exe had listened to him with close attention.
‘That is very interesting, Monsieur. Tell me, shall not a time come when the materialization shall advance so far that it shall be capable of detachment from its parent, the medium?’
‘That is a fantastic speculation, Madame.’
She persisted.
‘But, on the facts, not impossible?’
‘Quite impossible today.’
‘But perhaps in the future?’
He was saved from answering, for at that moment Simone entered. She looked languid and pale, but had evidently regained entire control of herself. She came forward and shook hands with Madame Exe, though Raoul noticed the faint shiver that passed through her as she did so.
‘I regret, Madame, to hear that you are indisposed,’ said Madame Exe.
‘It is nothing,’ said Simone rather brusquely. ‘Shall we begin?’
She went to the alcove and sat down in the armchair. Suddenly Raoul in his turn felt a wave of fear pass over him.
‘You are not strong enough,’ he exclaimed. ‘We had better cancel the séance. Madame Exe will understand.’
‘Monsieur!’
Madame Exe rose indignantly.
‘Yes, yes, it is better not, I am sure of it.’
‘Madame Simone promised me one last sitting.’
‘That is so,’ agreed Simone quietly, ‘and I am prepared to carry out my promise.’
‘I hold you to it, Madame,’ said the other woman.
‘I do not break my word,’ said Simone coldly. ‘Do not fear, Raoul,’ she added gently, ‘after all, it is for the last time—the last time, thank God.’
At a sign from her Raoul drew the heavy black curtains across the alcove. He also pulled the curtains of the window so that the room was in semi-obscurity. He indicated one of the chairs to Madame Exe and prepared himself to take the other. Madame Exe, however, hesitated.
‘You will pardon me, Monsieur, but—you understand I believe absolutely in your integrity and in that of Madame Simone. All the same, so that my testimony may be the more valuable, I took the liberty of bringing this with me.’
From her handbag she drew a length of fine cord.
‘Madame!’ cried Raoul. ‘This is an insult!’
‘A precaution.’
‘I repeat it is an insult.’
‘I don’t understand your objection, Monsieur,’ said Madame Exe coldly. ‘If there is no trickery you have nothing to fear.’
Raoul laughed scornfully.
‘I can assure you that I have nothing to fear, Madame. Bind me hand and foot if you will.’
His speech did not produce the effect he hoped for, for Madame Exe merely murmured unemotionally:
‘Thank you, Monsieur,’ and advanced upon him with her roll of cord.
Suddenly Simone from behind the curtain gave a cry.
‘No, no, Raoul, don’t let her do it.’
Madame Exe laughed derisively.
‘Madame is afraid,’ she observed sarcastically.
‘Yes, I am afraid.’
‘Remember what you are saying, Simone,’ cried Raoul. ‘Madame Exe is apparently under the impression that we are charlatans.’
‘I must make sure,’ said Madame Exe grimly.
She went methodically about her task, binding Raoul securely to his chair.
‘I must congratulate you on your knots, Madame,’ he observed ironically when she had finished. ‘Are you satisfied now?’
Madame Exe did not reply. She walked round the room examining the panelling of the walls closely. Then she locked the door leading into the hall, and, removing the key, returned to her chair.
‘Now,’ she said in an indescribable voice, ‘I am ready.’
The minutes passed. From behind the curtain the sound of Simone’s breathing became heavier and more stertorous. Then it died away altogether, to be succeeded by a series of moans. Then again there was silence for a little while, broken by the sudden clattering of the tambourine. The horn was caught up from the table and dashed to the ground. Ironic laughter was heard. The curtains of the alcove seemed to have been pulled back a little, the medium’s figure was just visible through the opening, her head fallen forward on her breast. Suddenly Madame Exe drew in her breath sharply. A ribbon-like stream of mist was issuing from the medium’s mouth. It condensed and began gradually to assume a shape, the shape of a little child.
‘Amelie! My little Amelie!’
The hoarse whisper came from Madame Exe. The hazy figure condensed still further. Raoul stared almost incredulously. Never had there been a more successful materialization. Now, surely it was a real child, a real flesh and