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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Oh, I shan't dress this evening I shall just have some tea in the library after you've gone," she answered absently. "Your things are laid out," she added, rousing herself. He looked surprised. "The dinner's at seven. I suppose the speeches will begin at nine. I thought you were coming to hear them." She wavered. "I don't know. I think not. Mrs. Sperry's ill, and I've no one else to go with."
Dane had already arranged for the following Monday, for on Wednesday afternoon, following a conversation over the telephone, Sperry and I had a private sitting with Miss Jeremy in Sperry's private office.
If it was Sperry who lay in a heap on the ground, I felt that I was lost. I could not escape. The way was blocked, and behind me the door, to which I now turned frantically, was a barrier I could not move. Then, out of the darkness behind me, came Sperry's familiar, booming bass. "I've knocked him out, I'm afraid. Got a match, Horace?"
That evening I went to Sperry's house, after telephoning that I was coming. On the way I stopped in at Mrs. Dane's and secured something from her. She was wildly curious, and made me promise to go in on my way back, and explain. I made a compromise. "I will come in if I have anything to tell you," I said.
We tried other things, but we had been spoiled. Our Kipling winter was a failure. We read a play or two, with Sperry's wife reading the heroine, and the rest of us taking other parts. She has a lovely voice, has Mrs. Sperry. But it was all stale and unprofitable, after the Wells affair. With Herbert on a lecture tour on spirit realism, and Mrs.
"Several times," said Sperry to Susan as they crossed Long Acre together on the way to Rector's, "yes, at least half a dozen times to my knowledge, Constance had had success right in her hands. And every time she has gone crazy about some cheap actor or sport and has thrown it away." "But she'll get on now," said Susan. "Perhaps," was Sperry's doubting reply. "Of course, she's got no brains.
This morning there was hectic gaiety afoot; and now it seems more like one of them ruined cities of Tyre and Siphon where the lone lizard crawls on the walls of the main port-cullis. "'The whole town, says the muddy man, 'is up in Sperry's wool warehouse listening to your side-kicker make a speech.
Instead, my watch, before my eyes, slid to the edge of the table and dropped to the floor, and almost instantly an object, which we recognized later as Sperry's knife, was flung over the curtain and struck the wall behind Mrs. Dane violently. One of the women screamed, ending in a hysterical giggle. Then we heard rhythmic beating on the top of the stand behind the medium.
When I kissed her good-night, however, she turned her cheek. The street, with its open spaces, was a relief after the dark hall. I started for Sperry's house, my head bent against the wind, my mind on the news I had just heard. Was it, I wondered, just possible that we had for some reason been allowed behind the veil which covered poor Wells' last moments?
But I caught Sperry's eye. We had both recognized it. It was Arthur Wells's, the one which Sperry had taken from his room, and which, in turn, had been taken from Sperry's library. Sperry was watching me with a sort of cynical amusement. "You're an absent-minded beggar, Horace," he said. "You didn't, by any chance, stop here on your way back from my place the other night, did you?" "I did.
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