Читаем The Ghost Makers полностью

Rajah Brahman turned to the right, as though facing his invisible spirit guide. He waited solemnly, then declared that manifestations would be difficult to-night. A voice from the beyond was calling; but its whisper was too low for human ears to detect.

He clapped his hands three times. Imam Singh came forward with a long metal trumpet. It had a white band at the larger end, where it tapered like a megaphone.

Two members of the circle were instructed to take their stand close before the rajah's throne, that they might know he did not leave that sacred spot. The lights were extinguished by Imam Singh. The end of the trumpet glowed with phosphorescent light.

While Rajah Brahman spoke from his throne, the luminous band began to rise in the air. It floated above the heads of the spectators in a weird, bewildering fashion.

At last the voice of the enthroned medium was hushed. Sounds came from the floating trumpet. Words were heard, but they were low and incoherent.

Now, a choking, gurgling sound manifested itself. It was a hideous noise— the gasping cry of a drowning person! An agonized exclamation came from Thomas Telford. It was quickly subdued, and the gurgling noise continued.

Finally, the choking was replaced by a gasping voice. A spirit declared itself in ghostly, whispered tones.

"My body lies in the deep. Far in the deep. I am one who was lost— lost— lost when the ship Castris settled to the bottom of the sea."

An awe-inspiring pause; then the weird words continued. "There is one here who wishes to know of that solemn tragedy. One here whom I cannot see. Let that person speak. I shall answer."

"Are you my son?" quavered Thomas Telford. "Are you my son — James Telford?"

"No," came the spirit response. "I can see your son. He is clinging to a small boat. The waves are beating against his body. He lives. Men are drawing him into the boat. He is safe. He is safe. I can see no more. My time has come!"

The voice ended in a spluttering gurgle that told its dreadful significance. The spirit was enacting the event that had ended its mortal career. The choking increased; then faded.

After a short silence, Rajah Brahman called through the dark.

"Are there any who can see farther?"

A whispered voice sighed from the trumpet as it wavered to and fro. It sounded like a wind passing through the treetops. It spoke in tones that were barely distinguishable.

"Have no fear. Your son is waiting. You will find him. Seek him in a spot where there are many people. You will find him there. Be of good heart. It is foretold—"

The voice broke off. The trumpet floated to the floor. Imam Singh pressed the light switch. Darkness ended, and Rajah Brahman was revealed, staring steadily from his throne. Two men stood close by him, and the trumpet was resting on the floor beside the large bowl.

The seer blinked his eyes, and became cognizant of those about him. He looked toward Thomas Telford.

"You have heard the messages of the spirits," he said. "Your son will be restored to you."

Thomas Telford was stepping forward to pour out his thanks, but Rajah Brahman announced that the brief seance was at an end. He was ready to confer with those who waited in the reception room. FIRST on the list was Maude Garwood. When she was ushered, with Dick Terry, into the presence of the rajah, they found the man from India seated on his throne, alone in the room.

Maude Garwood began an immediate plea. She had come to New York, she said, to seek spirit communication with her dead husband. So far, her wish had not been granted. Rajah Brahman turned to Dick Terry, who was looking on with a disdainful air.

"This," said the rajah firmly, "is your doing. Your aunt has seen the light. She seeks as a believer. She has already received a message from her beloved husband. It is you who, by your disbelief, make it impossible for her to see his spirit."

Dick curbed a hot retort.

"So long as you persist," declared Rajah Brahman, "there can be no success. Unless you can believe, it would be wise for you not to visit the seance room."

"Do you hear that?" demanded Dick, ignoring the seer and speaking directly to his aunt.

"Rajah Brahman speaks the truth," declared Mrs. Garwood.

"Then I'm not wanted here?" quizzed Dick.

"You have heard the reply," remarked Rajah Brahman serenely. "You are welcome if you choose to believe. You are not welcome if you do not believe."

For a moment, Dick gazed threateningly at the man on the throne. Then he spoke to Mrs. Garwood.

"Do you agree with that?" he asked.

The woman nodded solemnly. Without another word, Dick turned on his heel and left the sanctum. He reached the reception room. There, he cooled his heels while Imam Singh was ushering out some others, among them Thomas Telford.

Dick saw the elderly man shake hands with Benjamin Castelle, and he heard Telford mention that he had an appointment with the rajah for the next evening. Then, Imam Singh spied Dick, and brought him his hat.