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  Laughter ripples through the auditorium. Robert smiles, exchanging a look with Cathy.

  “It is the province of science to investigate nature without prejudice,” Peter Clarke goes on. “Nowhere has this dictum met with less observation than in psi.”

  He smiles. “But be of good cheer, we are not alone. On January 7, 1610, Galileo announced that, through his telescope, he’d seen four moons revolving round the planet Jupiter. Immediately a pamphlet was distributed. Nonsense, said the pamphlet. Optical illusion. Self delusion. The Inquisition had its say and Galileo recanted. To this very day, they have only partially absolved him.

  “In 1807, Thomas Jefferson, of all people, dismissed as utterly preposterous the idea that meteors could fall to earth. Those peasants whose cottage rooves had been demolished by same no doubt took a different view but they were not accredited. As were the scientists who, in July of 1790, when a shower of meteors fell in France, declared it—quote—’a physically impossible phenomenon.’ Unquote.

  “In 1935, F.R. Moulton, one of the world’s foremost authorities on celestial mechanics did not hesitate to claim that ‘in all fairness to those who, by training, are not prepared to evaluate the fundamental difficulties of going from the earth to the moon, it must be stated that there is not the slightest possibility of such a journey.”

  More laughter. Peter’s smile is somewhat sad now. “We laugh,” he tells the students, “but do we feel uneasy at the same time? How many truths of tomorrow are being attacked as the heresies of today? How many Galileos will recant new observations? How many meteoric concepts will be condemned as utterly preposterous?

  “The answer is self-evident. I have only to quote the scientist who declared, of ESP, ‘This is the kind of thing that I would not believe in even if it existed!’”

  Laughter. Peter shakes his head. “The Lord protect us from such as these and give us, instead, a few more Thomas Edisons who, when asked about electricity, answered, honestly, ‘Don’t know what it is. But it works.”‘

  At the conclusion of the lecture, Cathy introduces Robert to her friend and associate and former professor at Cambridge University. Peter shakes his hand warmly and invites them to his house for supper, re-states Cathy’s invitation for Robert to visit them at ESPA.

  As they stroll to Cathy’s car, Robert asks the Britisher if the science departments at the college have anything to say about his comments.

  “They accept me as the temporary warlock of the school,” he answers. His smile begins to fade. “However—” he continues. He has known more than one university scholar whose funds “dried up” and promotion “vanished” when he or she began investigating psi. Some were driven into “education exile”, others into “somewhat more desperate situations.”

  Peter looks into the past. “One man I knew committed suicide,” he says.

  They reach the car and Robert gets in back with Bart who is greeted cordially by Peter. “Splendid chap,” he says, patting Bart on the head. The Lab’s tail thumps.

  Of course it isn’t only parapsychologists who have it difficult, Peter goes on as they ride. Psychics have it infinitely worse. If they accept money for their efforts, they are accused of taking advantage of people. Everything they do is eyed as probable fraud.

  “They are treated as children by researchers,” Peter says. “Worse, as objects.” They are legislated against. Not to mention the ungodly toll on their bodies and minds. “Thank God I do not possess a scintilla of ESP,” he concludes. “It is to be, at once, blessed and cursed.”

  In the back seat, Robert’s smile has frozen. Talk like this disturbs him. We will, presently, discover why.

  They arrive at the house where Peter suggests that Bart remain in the car—not because of objections he and his wife would have but because his cat is most intolerant in his domain; Bart might get scratched.

  They go inside and Robert meets Carol, a frail-looking woman in her mid-forties with a childlike face. She has “the sniffles”. (“I don’t know why I get them here, the weather in England is much more intemperate.”)

  Peter puts his arm around her and inquires how her toothache is.

  Her smile is brave. “A little painful,” she says; she’s going to the dentist in the morning.

  “I’m sorry, love,” says Peter, gently.

  Robert suggests that she press together the thumb and forefinger of the hand on the side of the toothache. This will create a “hump” on the upper part of the V formed by the fingers. If she rubs ice on this hump, he tells her, it may relieve the pain. It is a Hoku point the Chinese have made use of for five thousand years.

  Carol thanks him, says she’ll try and retires to the kitchen to prepare supper; Cathy offers to help but Carol says she’s fine.

  Peter is impressed by Robert’s knowledge of such esoterica. As they move into the living room, a great cat jumps from Peter’s chair to greet him. “Fritz, my beloved!” Peter says.

  He introduces Robert to the cat. “He may accept you conditionally in a year or so,” he says.

  Cathy laughs. “He isn’t kidding,” she tells Robert. “It took me a good fifteen months to break through Fritz’s reserve.”

  They sit and Fritz jumps on Peter’s ample lap to be stroked. Peter points to the space between the cat’s eyes, inquiring innocently, “Know what this is?”

  “His nose?” says Robert, wondering why Cathy has just groaned discreetly.

  “No, this is his nose,” says Peter, touching the tip of Fritz’s nose.

  “What then?”

  “Oh, no,” says Cathy. Robert glances at her.

  “It’s the break,” says Peter.

  “Really,” Robert says. He thinks hard. “Seems to me I ran across that somewhere once.”

  “You don’t know what you’ve just done,” Cathy tells him ominously.

  “What?” he smiles.

  “You have just leaped voluntarily into the trivia pit,” she replies. “You may never emerge.”

  She points at Peter. “And you, my darling, may have met your match.” The pointing finger shifts toward Robert. “This happens to be the author of THINGS EXPLAINED, OTHER THINGS—”

  “But of course,” says Peter, breaking in. “Would I be so callow as to goad an amateur?”

  Carol comes in with a glass of water and two pills. “You forgot to take them this morning,” she says.

  “Oh, dear. Thank you, love.” Peter downs them as Carol asks if they’d like some wine, then retires to the kitchen again, declining Cathy’s second offer of help. Peter puts down the glass. “Hydrocholorizide,” he explains to Robert. “Inderal. Hypertension.”

  “I use Inderal and bio-feedback,” Robert says.

  “You’re too young, to have hypertension,” Peter says. “No, I take that back. I had it in my thirties. We intellectual types have hidden angst.”

  He smiles as Fritz looks around, apparently at nothing. “What do you see, sir, a phantom?”

  Cathy groans again. “She doesn’t believe that cats see ghosts,” says Peter. “For that matter, she doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Neither do you, don’t mislead the poor man,” Cathy responds.

  “I don’t know about that,” Peter says, the twinkle in his eyes belying his words. “My dream of dreams is to investigate a real live, purebred haunted house. Who needs the Soviet Union?”

  “You know you’re dying to go there as much as I am,” Cathy says, smiling; clearly, she adores her rotund mentor.

  “I suppose,” says Peter. “So.” He looks at Robert. “Tell us about your outline.”

  Robert briefly tells him that, to date, he’s covered early psi, the Fox sisters, the beginning years of Spiritualism, D.D. Home and Nettie Colburn.

  “Good,” says Peter. “Sounds as though you’re right on track. What’s next?”

  Robert says he thinks he might spend some time on the first serious enquiries into Spiritualism by the London Dialectical Society in 1869, the founding of the Phantasmological
Society at Oxford and the Ghost Society at Cambridge in the 1870’s and, of course, the establishment of The Society of Psychical Research in 1882.

  “Might make an interesting sidelight,” Peter suggests, “to mention that Spiritualism was the first religion to endow dignity on the North American Indian because so many of their so-called spiritual guides were Indians.”

  “Good point,” says Robert, nodding. Of course, he adds, he obviously can’t go into too much detail on the “documentary stuff.” If he’s not mistaken, Alan Bremer will be looking for some razzle-dazzle. He’ll attempt to get to Mrs. Piper and Mrs. Leonard as soon as possible.

  “Oh, but first you must do the immortal Palladino,” Peter says.

  Cathy groans again. “You and your immortal Palladino.”

  “And rightfully so,” Peter declares, putting down the cat to stand. He removes a book from its shelf and opens it, reads aloud.

  “Near the turn of the century, D.D. Home was dead—” (“they mean, of course, passed on,” he amends straight-faced.) “—and the field of psychic phenomena required a new physical medium. Said medium duly appeared in the person of a stout Italian peasant woman named Eusapia Palladino.”

  He sets the book on Robert’s lap, pointing at a photograph.

  “American Séance Number Ten,” he says. “A cornucopia of miracles.”

  CAMERA MOVES IN ON the photograph which comes to life. We see a group of people moving down the hallway of an office building.

  “December 9, 1909,” Peter’s voice narrates. “Eusapia Palladino arrived at Room 328 in the Lincoln Square Arcade in New York. With her were Mr. Forbes, Mr. Evarts, Dr. and Mrs. Humphrey, an interpreter and a stenographer. Waiting in the office were Mr. Hereward Carrington and his wife.”

  As the group removes their coats and prepare for the sitting, Peter’s voice speaks on.

  “Carrington had taken most elaborate precautions to forestall a chance of fraud. He had obtained, from the owner of the building, a sworn statement that the room was an ordinary office, free from trap doors and other unusual features.”

  We see the following as Peter’s voice describes them.

  “The windows were sealed and connected to burglar alarms.

  “There were special bolts on the insides of the windows and a special bolt and lock on the inside of the door.

  “The cabinet—a square box seven feet high and three feet on each side, was built into a special partition away from the back wall, open on one side where a curtain hung, made of black crepe and very light.

  “Inside the cabinet was a table, on its top a flute, a mandolin, a music box, a small bell and a tambourine.

  “A three foot by two foot table with nine chairs around it stands nearby.

  “As the two women step behind the cabinet curtain to inspect the Italian psychic and her costume, Carrington describes the lights above the table; a cluster of five globes, their illumination varying from full light to that in which hands and faces could be seen but nothing more.

  “Under full light, then, the group sits to form a circle.

  “Palladino’s chair has its back to the cabinet, about two feet away from the curtain. She grumbles at the number of sitters—she has been used to five or six customarily—but does not make an issue of it.

  “Mr. Forbes sits at her left, his leg pressed to the medium’s. Palladino’s right ‘control’ is Mrs. Humphrey. Mrs. Carrington sits opposite her. All rest their hands on the table, fingers touching.

  “It is 9:30 p.m.”

  9:37. The table moves. Both controllers have their legs pressed tight against Palladino’s and her hands are raised above the table. Mr. Evarts asks for raps and three faint raps are heard in answer.

  9:41. Light 2 is switched off; it is slightly dimmer in the room now. The table begins to rock, then raises two feet in the air, remaining suspended for several seconds.

  9:42. Light 3 turned off now, slightly less illumination. The left hand curtain of the cabinet blows outward, flutters back, blows out again.

  9:44. Light 4. Both medium’s hands are visible. “I’ve been touched on the right arm,” Dr. Humphrey says.

  9:45. Three sharp raps heard on the table.

  9:48. The curtain of the cabinet blows out. Mr. Forbes swallows, speaks. “I have Eusapia’s hand firmly but there is a hand behind the curtain touching my arm.” Mrs. Humphrey verifies that she has good control of Palladino’s right hand and foot.

  9:50. The curtains blow out over Mr. Forbes’ head. “A distinct human hand is coming out of the curtain and touching me on the shoulder. I am holding the medium’s left hand tightly.”

  9:55. The interpreter: “My coat was grabbed and I was pulled toward the curtain by a hand.” The stenographer: “Yes, I saw him pulled.”

  9:56. Something that looks like a handkerchief flutters near the cabinet. Controllers report complete charge of Palladino’s hands and feet.

  9:57. A hand is seen coming out of the cabinet. Mr. Forbes cries out as a cigar is placed in between his teeth and, suddenly, his cigar case is lying on the table. He spits out the cigar. “The case was in my inside coat pocket,” he says. “A hand took it out.”

  The cigar case opens by itself: there is one cigar inside. “There were three,” says Mr. Forbes.

  Palladino’s hands are in plain sight, two feet away from the case.

  10:01. Something moves inside the cabinet.

  10:02. The mandolin floats from the cabinet and rests on Palladino’s head. The small bell in the cabinet is heard falling to the floor.

  10:04. The flute sails slowly from the cabinet and touches Mr. Forbes on the shoulder. The stenographer gasps and says, “I feel a finger touching my right ear.”

  10:06. Something moves under the curtain. The tambourine floats out, rises in the air, waves back and forth and drops into Mrs. Humphrey’s lap. Both controls still good.

  10:08. Three raps are heard in the cabinet. Then three heavy knocks.

  10:12. The music box begins to play in the cabinet. The tambourine rises from Mrs. Humphrey’s lap and floats through the air, shaking itself.

  10:13. The tambourine goes back into the cabinet, then comes out again, is placed above the medium’s head and struck several times.

  10:16. The table rises, the tambourine is shaken in the cabinet, the music box plays.

  10:19. A strong breeze comes out of the cabinet, felt by all. “A hand is pinching my fingers,” says the interpreter. “I feel the flesh.” Palladino’s hands and legs and feet are all controlled.

  10:24. Light 5 is turned off. There is no light in the room except for the stenographer’s lamp.

  10:25. Mrs. Humphrey’s chair is dragged from the table, returned.

  10:26. A white arm and hand comes slowly from the cabinet, holding the tambourine. Controllers holding Palladino’s legs and hands.

  10:30. Four raps are heard. The curtains blow out violently. “Something black just came out of the cabinet,” says Dr. Humphrey. “There is a white face,” says the interpreter. “We see it,” Carrington says.

  10:34. The curtain blowing out in force. Various hands and faces appear to everybody at the table.

  10:37. The music box, playing, floats from the cabinet and settles on Palladino’s head. She bends her head forward and it falls to the table noisily.

  10:41. The small table comes out of the cabinet and climbs onto the large table; a hand is seen grasping the small table. The small table works its way over to the side of the séance table and goes down between Mrs. Humphrey and Mr. Forbes. It ends up upside down on the floor as they continue holding tightly to the medium.

  10:44. A strong wind sweeps around the room, chilling everyone. The curtains of the cabinet bulge out. A gasp of dismay falls from Mrs. Carrington as she looks at the top of the curtains near the ceiling. The others look, the stenographer crying out.

  A ghastly looking hand is hovering there, part of an arm attached to it. It floats down, settling on Dr. Humphrey’s shoulder, then vani
shes. The stenographer cries out again.

  Floating near the top of the curtains is a hideous black masklike thing. The stenographer almost faints. Dr. Humphrey catching her.

  10:57. A white hand comes out of the cabinet and raps seven times on the table. “That means end of the séance,” Carrington says. Seven more loud raps are heard. The chain of hands is broken and the light turned up. Palladino is helped to a chair near the window which is opened to give her air.

  Mr. Forbes opens the cigar case still on the table. There are three cigars inside it. The one he spit out is gone. He sees something missing from the outside of the case.

  “A small silver monogram had been violently torn from the outside of the case,” says Peter’s voice. “It was not found in the room nor ever seen again.”

  SHOCK CUT TO E.C.U. of a knife blade cutting into rare beef, dark blood oozing. Peter’s voice is heard, saying, “This may be rather rare for you.”

  They are having dinner; it is dark outside.

  “Of course the woman cheated if she could,” says Peter, starting on his meal. “In January, 1910 six sittings at Columbia University were disastrous and the headline of the Boston Herald read ‘Palladino Exposed By Noted Scientists as Expert Trickster’.”

  He frowns. “It is unthinkable, however, that intelligent men like Carrington, well posted in the tricks of mediums, making sure that someone on each side of her was veritably clinging to the arms and legs of this elderly Italian lady, would be fooled by such obvious ploys as foot and hand substitution for which they were constantly on the lookout. No, the woman was a genuine; no doubt of it. What it meant, of course, we’ve no idea. But she was genuine.”

  Carol brings in a vegetable plate. “How’s your toothache?” Robert asks. She smiles. “A little better, thank you.” She does not say if she took his suggestion.

  Peter drinks some wine. “No,” he continues. “From New York to Naples, Warsaw to London, the poor woman was investigated, probed, picked over and poked at by more committees than any other medium who ever lived. And many more of them wound up believing in her than disbelieving. Even my old teacher Bellenger thinks she was authentic.”