A Voyage to Arcturus.
By David Lindsay
1 The Seance
2 In the Street
3 Starkness
4 The Voice
5 The Night of Departure
6 Joiwind
7 Panawe
8 The Lusion Plain
9 Oceaxe
10 Tydomin
11 On Disscourn
12 Spadevil
13 The Wombflash Forest
14 Polecrab
15 Swaylone''s Island
16 Leehallfae
17 Corpang
18 Haunte
19 Sullenbode
20 Barey
21 Muspel
Chapter 1
THE SEANCE
On a march evening, at eight o''clock, Backhouse, the medium - a fast
- rising star in the psychic world - was ushered into the study at
Prolands, the Hampstead residence of Montague Faull. The room was
illuminated only by the light of a blazing fire. The host, eying him
with indolent curiosity, got up, and the usual conventional greetings
were exchanged. Having indicated an easy chair before the fire to
his guest, the South American merchant sank back again into his own.
The electric light was switched on. Faull''s prominent, clear - cut
features, metallic - looking skin, and general air of bored
impassiveness, did not seem greatly to impress the medium, who was
accustomed to regard men from a special angle. Backhouse, on the
contrary, was a novelty to the merchant. As he tranquilly studied
him through half closed lids and the smoke of a cigar, he wondered
how this little, thickset person with the pointed beard contrived to
remain so fresh and sane in appearance, in view of the morbid nature
of his occupation.
"Do you smoke?" drawled Faull, by way of starting the Conversation.
"No? Then will you take a drink?"
"Not at present, I thank you."
A pause.
"Everything is satisfactory? The materialisation will take place?"
"I see no reason to doubt it."
"That''s good, for I would not like my guests to be disappointed. I
have your check written out in my pocket."
"Afterward will do quite well."
"Nine o''clock was the time specified, I believe?"
"I fancy so."
The conversation continued to flag. Faull sprawled in his chair, and
remained apathetic.
"Would you care to hear what arrangements I have made?"
"I am unaware that any are necessary, beyond chairs for your guests."
"I mean the decoration of the seance room, the music, and so forth."
Backhouse stared at his host. "But this is not a theatrical
performance."
"That''s correct. Perhaps I ought to explain.. .. There will be
ladies present, and ladies, you know, are aesthetically inclined."
"In that case I have no objection. I only hope they will enjoy the
performance to the end."
He spoke rather dryly.
"Well, that''s all right, then," said Faull. Flicking his cigar into
the fire, he got up and helped himself to whisky.
"Will you come and see the room?"
"Thank you, no. I prefer to have nothing to do with it till the time
arrives."
"Then let''s go to see my sister, Mrs. Jameson, who is in the drawing
room. She sometimes does me the kindness to act as my hostess, as I
am unmarried."
"I will be delighted," said Backhouse coldly.
They found the lady alone, sitting by the open pianoforte in a
pensive attitude. She had been playing Scriabin and was overcome.
The medium took in her small, tight, patrician features and porcelain
- like hands, and wondered how Faull came by such a sister. She
received him bravely, with just a shade of quiet emotion. He was
used to such receptions at the hands of the sex, and knew well how to
respond to them.
"What amazes me," she half whispered, after ten minutes of graceful,
hollow conversation, "is, if you must know it, not so much the
manifestation itself - though that will surely be wonderful - as your
assurance that it will take place. Tell me the grounds of your
confidence."
"I dream with open eyes," he answered, looking around at the door,
"and others see my dreams. That is all."
"But that''s beautiful," responded Mrs. Jameson. She smiled rather
absently, for the first guest had just entered.
It was Kent - Smith, the ex - magistrate, celebrated for his shrewd
judicial humour, which, however, he had the good sense not to attempt
to carry into private life. Although well on the wrong side of
seventy, his eyes were still disconcertingly bright. With the
selective skill of an old man, he immediately settled himself in the
most comfortable of many comfortable chairs.
"So we are to see wonders tonight?"
"Fresh material for your autobiography," remarked Faull.
"Ah, you should not have mentioned my unfortunate book. An old
public servant is merely amusing himself in his retirement, Mr.
Backhouse. You have no cause for alarm - I have studied in the
school of discretion."
"I am not alarmed. There can be no possible objection to your
publishing whatever you please."
"You are most kind," said the old man, with a cunning smile.
"Trent is not coming tonight," remarked Mrs. Jameson, throwing a
curious little glance at her brother.
"I never thought he would. It''s not in his line."
"Mrs. Trent, you must understand," she went on, addressing the exmagistrate, "has placed us all under a debt of gratitude. She has
decorated the old lounge hall upstairs most beautifully, and has
secured the services of the sweetest little orchestra."
"But this is Roman magnificence."
"Backhouse thinks the spirits should be treated with more deference,"
laughed Faull.
"Surely, Mr. Backhouse - a poetic environment ..
"Pardon me. I am a simple man, and always prefer to reduce things to
elemental simplicity. I raise no opposition, but I express my
opinion. Nature is one thing, and art is another."
"And I am not sure that I don''t agree with you," said the exmagistrate. "An occasion like this ought to be simple, to guard
against the possibility of deception - if you will forgive my
bluntness, Mr. Backhouse."
"We shall sit in full light," replied Backhouse, "and every
opportunity will be given to all to inspect the room. I shall also
ask you to submit me to a personal examination."
A rather embarrassed silence followed. It was broken by the arrival
of two more guests, who entered together. These were Prior, the
prosperous City coffee importer, and Lang, the stockjobber, well
known in his own circle as an amateur prestidigitator. Backhouse was
slightly acquainted with the latter. Prior, perfuming the room with
the faint odour of wine and tobacco smoke, tried to introduce an
atmosphere of joviality into the proceedings. Finding that no one
seconded his efforts, however, he shortly subsided and fell to
examining the water colours on the walls. Lang, tall, thin, and
growing bald, said little, but stared at Backhouse a good deal.
Coffee, liqueurs, and cigarettes were now brought in. Everyone
partook, except Lang and the medium. At the same moment, Professor
Halbert was announced. He was the eminent psychologist, the author
and lecturer on crime, insanity, genius, and so forth, considered in
their mental aspects. His presence at such a gathering somewhat
mystified the other guests, but all felt as if the object of their
meeting had immediately acquired additional solemnity. He was small,
meagre-looking, and mild in manner, but was probably the most
stubborn-brained of all that mixed company. Completely ignoring the
medium, he at once sat down beside Kent-Smith, with whom he began to
exchange remarks.
At a few minutes past the appointed hour Mrs. Trent entered,
unannounced. She was a woman of about twenty-eight. She had a
white, demure, saintlike face, smooth black hair, and lips so crimson
and full that they seemed to be bursting with blood. Her tall,
graceful body was most expensively attired. Kisses were exchanged
between her and Mrs. Jameson. She bowed to the rest of the assembly,
and stole a half glance and a smile at Faull. The latter gave her a
queer look, and Backhouse, who lost nothing, saw the concealed
barbarian in the complacent gleam of his eye. She refused the
refreshment that was offered her, and Faull proposed that, as
everyone had now arrived, they should adjourn to the lounge hall.
Mrs. Trent held up a slender palm. "Did you, or did you not, give me
carte blanche, Montague?"
"Of course I did," said Faull, laughing. "But what''s the matter?"
"Perhaps I have been rather presumptuous. I don''t know. I have
invited a couple of friends to join us. No, no one knows them.. ..
The two most extraordinary individuals you ever saw. And mediums, I
am sure."
"It sounds very mysterious. Who are these conspirators?"
"At least tell us their names, you provoking girl," put in Mrs.
Jameson.
"One rejoices in the name of Maskull, and the other in that of
Nightspore. That''s nearly all that I know about them, so don''t
overwhelm me with, any more questions."
"But where did you pick them up? You must have picked them up
somewhere."
"But this is a cross - examination. Have I sinned again convention?
I swear I will tell you not another word about them. They will be
here directly, and then I will deliver them to your tender mercy."
"I don''t know them," ...
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