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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.
Lang, who was in his element, ignored the rest of his party and commenced a patient, systematic search, on his own account, for secret apparatus. Faull and Mrs. Trent stood in a corner of the temple, talking together in low tones; while Mrs. Jameson, pretending to hold Backhouse in conversation, watched them as only a deeply interested woman knows how to watch.
The newcomer looked at him for a second, and then broke into a great, roaring guffaw. He thumped Faull on the back playfully but the play was rather rough, for the victim was sent staggering against the wall before he could recover his balance. "Good evening, my host!"
H. Faull, of Helstone, in Cornwall, lost no fewer than fifteen fine sheep, and some of them store sheep, killed by lurchers in January, 1824. We now proceed to the different species of dog belonging to the second division of Cuvier, which are classed under the name of Hound; and, first we take The origin of this diminutive hound is somewhat obscure.
The expectation of everyone was raised, while, beneath her pallor and composure, it could be seen that Mrs. Trent was deeply moved. It was evident that aesthetically she was by far the most important person present. Faull watched her, with his face sunk on his chest, sprawling as usual. Backhouse stood up, with one hand on the back of his chair, and began speaking.
Before any words were spoken, a loud and terrible crash of falling masonry caused the assembled party to start up from their chairs in consternation. It sounded as if the entire upper part of the building had collapsed. Faull sprang to the door, and called to the servant to say what was happening. The man had to be questioned twice before he gathered what was required of him.
Faull ordered two more chairs to be brought for Mrs. Trent's friends, who, however, had not yet arrived. He then pressed an electric bell, and took his own seat. The signal was for the hidden orchestra to begin playing. A murmur of surprise passed through the audience as, without previous warning, the beautiful and solemn strains of Mozart's "temple" music pulsated through the air.
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.
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.
Faull invited his friends to step forward and examine the apartment as minutely as they might desire. Prior and Lang were the only ones to accept. The former wandered about among the pasteboard scenery, whistling to himself and occasionally tapping a part of it with his knuckles.
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