The Royal Ghost

by Linda Stratmann

  Mina had thought of a new plan but it was one she could not carry out herself, and required the assistance of Richard. He had promised to attend but when the carriage came to take her family to the Pavilion, he was not at home, so they were obliged to go without him, Louisa commenting that her son must have been delayed by business. On their arrival, Mina saw that Nellie too had chosen not to join the assembly, and she had little doubt that the two were together. She hoped against hope that Nellie was simply helping her brother write his play.

  Neither Mrs Peasgood nor Mrs Mowbray were there, but Mina saw other Brightonian notables, including the Mayor and one of the aldermen who had attended the lecture on Africa, and they introduced Mr Hope to three couples whom she did not recognise but ascertained from what she overheard that they were members of the Pavilion committee and their wives. Louisa and Enid, seeing an opportunity, decided to lurk about that distinguished group in the hope of obtaining an introduction. When Mina pleaded weariness and took a seat they did not dissuade her. Mina’s object was to place herself where she might best observe the audience, and she would not be able to do this on the front row where her mother and sister intended to be.

  Dr Hamid arrived and greeted Mina, saying that Anna was busy with her patients, but that in any case she did not find such entertainments to her taste. For his part, he did not either, but felt he should be there if only to discover what Mr Hope was up to.

  ‘I agree,’ said Mina, ‘and I am very glad to see you here as there is something I would like you to do for me.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Dr Hamid, looking apprehensive.

  ‘Would you be able to follow Mystic Stefan after the performance and discover where he is lodging? There is something about him I find very strange and I would like to learn as much about him as I can. You must be sure not to be seen.’

  He glanced quickly about the room. ‘Is your brother not on hand to undertake your private detective work?’

  ‘No, he has other calls on his time.’

  Dr Hamid gave her a sceptical look, as well he might. ‘Do you think this is suitable behaviour for a medical practitioner? What would happen if my quarry realised I was following him and stopped to ask me my business?’

  ‘I am confident that you will be able to think of some excuse,’ said Mina. ‘I would do it myself only I cannot go quickly enough to be sure of getting a cab in good time.’

  ‘Let me consider it,’ he said, but with a lack of enthusiasm that suggested that even she would not be able to persuade him.

  The end wall of the room had been prepared as a stage for the performance. Screens had been brought in to create a three-sided enclosed space and they were draped with dense dark fabric, which fell into sufficiently voluminous folds that there could well have been room for something or someone to be concealed behind them. The demonstration promised to be more extensive than the one in Mrs Peasgood’s parlour, since a long sidetable was very generously loaded with the paraphernalia of a magician. At the centre back more screens had been arranged to form a curtained recess in which there stood a square table, and there was a smaller table at the front. Mina looked about her, hoping to ascertain if the Misses Bland were there, but while there were some ladies she did not recognise, none of them was heavily veiled.

  When the expectant audience was settled Mr Hope addressed the company and introduced Mystic Stefan, who stepped out lightly from behind the screens and bowed. He was clad as before in full evening dress, with the addition of a short dark cloak. He performed an elegant pirouette, his cloak lifting gently to swirl about him, then, as he faced the audience once more, it was seen that in each hand he held a small glass bowl in which goldfish swam. There were gasps and applause, which he acknowledged with a smile.

  The bowls were placed on the sidetable and he took a tray with a dark bottle, a jug of water and six glasses, and brought it to the front. With grace in every elaborate gesture, he poured water from the jug into the bottle, then poured it back again. Upending the bottle, he shook it to show that it was empty before replacing it on the tray. He now produced as if from nowhere a magic wand and waved it over the bottle. Taking up the supposedly empty bottle once more he used it to fill the glasses, but even more miraculously, the colour of the liquid in each was different, so that one appeared to be white wine, another red, and the next four pale sherry, milk, whisky and crème de menthe. As if this was not enough he then gave the bottle several smart taps with the wand, which broke it in half, and removed the base, from which he pulled a dry white handkerchief.

  The next trick required three identical goblets. Into one he poured water, the next he filled with sweets, and the third was left empty. The goblets were then covered with a large scarlet silk handkerchief. After a tap with the wand the handkerchief was whisked away to show that the water was now in the formerly empty goblet and the sweets too had changed places. Once again the goblets were covered and after another tap with the wand the contents had rearranged themselves.

  The amazing Stefan now brought forward a carved box of oriental design from which, after demonstrating that it was empty, he drew a host of items which it could never have contained, little parcels of sweetmeats which an attendant distributed to the ladies, coloured balls, streamers, and a whole host of paper lanterns.

  His next demonstration required a Japanese fan, with which he had all the dexterity of a juggler, opening and closing it with a deft flick of the wrist, throwing it up so it rotated in the air, and catching it one-handed. He brought a porcelain bowl, and showed that it was filled with nothing more than multi-coloured pieces of torn tissue paper. With the bowl in one hand and the fan in the other he began to fan the papers. By rights they should have been scattered about the room in disarray, but instead they rose together in a cloud, and the fluttering of the delicate papers made them resemble a swarm of exotic butterflies. Stefan now moved about the stage fanning gently as he went, and he was followed by the paper butterflies, which first rose high, then sank low. Sometimes the delicate shreds were only a little apart from each other, sometimes the distance was as much as two feet but all throughout they formed a moving garland about his head. The effect could not fail to both mystify and enchant the audience, who uttered little sighs of appreciation. Mina noticed that Mr Hope was leaning forward and paying special attention to this trick, which was the forte of his friend Dr Lynn. Finally the butterflies gathered themselves into a small cluster and subsided back neatly into their pretty bowl.

  Stefan next brought forward a large shallow silver dish and cast into it some powders, causing a brief flash of fire from which a smoky haze arose. Mr Hope rose to his feet and addressed the audience. ‘In this next demonstration, Mystic Stefan requests that members of the audience provide items to be cast into the bowl. If they do so, they will see an image of the person or place or object they are thinking of. Be assured that nothing will come to any harm and all your property will be returned to you safely.’ To avoid the usual hesitation in such matters, Mr Hope moved amongst the audience with his most ingratiating smile and collected the items. Many of the onlookers, including Enid, were too embarrassed to have their secret thoughts exposed, and Mr Hope understood this and did not press the unwilling. Neither Mina nor Dr Hamid participated, and Mr Hope moved so quickly past Mr Phipps and his party that they could not have taken part even if they had wanted to.

  Louisa provided a lace handkerchief and it was dropped into the bowl, whereupon a cloud of white smoke was seen to arise, and in it appeared the face of a man, which had some passing resemblance to Henry Scarletti. Louisa pressed her fingers to her eyes and Enid was obliged to lend her mother her own handkerchief. One of the ladies supplied a locket, and was shown a face she recognised as her late grandfather. One by one, items were dropped into the bowl, which obligingly provided whatever was expected, a child, a church, a Bible, a ring. At last it was Mr Hope’s turn, and his contribution was the African trade bead he had received at Mystic Stefan’s previous demonstration. The image that
arose peering through a greenish mist was recognisably that of Dr Livingstone.

  There was no suggestion that the demonstration was anything more than a conjuring trick or that the images were other than pictures, especially since the one of Dr Livingstone was a copy of the well-known portrait Mina had already seen in the window of Mr Smith’s bookshop. It was no great surprise to anyone that Mr Hope might be thinking of the man who was his friend and whom he desperately wanted to rescue. Nevertheless, Hope was undoubtedly moved by the occurrence. If Mystic Stefan intended to strengthen his reputation with his promoter then, thought Mina, he was surely succeeding.

  Stefan then brought a new item from the sidetable, a square board bearing an article more than a foot in height, mysteriously draped in black cloth. This he placed on the small table in the curtained recess at the back. On carefully removing the cloth a very strange-looking object was revealed, a white arm and hand, very delicate like that of a lady, rising up out of a shallow plinth, and resembling a model made of wax. Stefan made some elaborate passes with the wand, and the arm began to move, swaying gracefully, the fingers opening and closing, undulating as if stroking the keys of a piano.

  There were little gasps from around the room, and a few people even leaned forward for a closer look, as if unable to believe their eyes. Mina, supposing the arm to be a contrivance like the Wondrous Ajeeb or the chess-playing Turk of old, decided to look about the room to see the reactions of those around her. Stefan, of course, was smiling enigmatically from behind his luxuriant beard, and most other persons were staring fixedly at the display, looking amazed or even frightened, but there was one lady in the room who wore the same superior smile as Stefan. She was not one of the Pavilion committee party and Mina could not recall ever having seen her before. There was nothing unusual about the lady or her dress, and she was aged about thirty, but she had a sharp face and a knowing expression.

  Stefan, after making some more passes over the disembodied hand, brought a pen, which, after dipping it in ink, he placed in the pale fingers. He next brought a sheet of paper, which he first showed was blank on both sides, and laid it on the table within reach of the pen. As the enthralled onlookers watched, the hand began to write, and so quiet was the room, with all breaths held, that the sound of the scratching nib was clearly heard.

  After a few moments the hand lifted, and Stefan picked up the paper and showed it to the audience. The words were unclear, but words there were, and he offered the paper to Mr Hope, who seemed no less astonished than anyone else. Hope darted forward out of his seat and took up the paper, then read aloud: ‘Blessings and good fortune’!

  There was a relieved murmur, as if the message could have been motivated by anything other than pious goodwill. Such openly or quasi-religious messages were, Mina knew, an essential feature of the work of mediums, used to convince doubters of the godliness and purity of their work. She was reminded of the words of Reverend Vaughan, Vicar of Christchurch in Montpelier Road, whose sermons often warned the unwary of false prophets, assuring his congregation that the Devil could cite scripture when it suited him. Not that Mystic Stefan was a fiend, but there was something about him she did not trust.

  The hand was impatient to write more. Putting down the pen it tapped on the table, as if demanding another paper. Stefan smiled, produced what was required and re-dipped the pen. The hand began to write again, but this time it moved very rapidly, speeding over the sheet. On and on it wrote, until at last it stopped, dropped the pen and seemed to droop with exhaustion.

  Stefan lifted the paper and this time it was his turn to look astonished. He passed it to Mr Hope.

  Hope, in an increasingly faltering voice, read aloud: ‘Food gone, medicines stolen, companions dead, sustained by prayer, God have mercy on me, the sun burns my eyes, I am wounded and ill … D L.’ Hope’s hands trembled. ‘What is this? Is it for me? Can it be – surely not —’ His eyes suddenly blazed. ‘It must write more! Make it write again!’

  Stefan made a helpless gesture and then turned to indicate the white hand, which still drooped as if all its energy was spent. He took the black cloth and covered the hand, then picked up the tray and replaced it on the sidetable. Hope went to approach it but Stefan stood with palms out, preventing him and solemnly shook his head. Hope sighed and turned back to his seat with the paper in his hand, his face deeply pained.

  Stefan came to the front of the stage area and made a respectful bow. The audience understood that this was the end of the performance and applauded. He then summoned an attendant, who helped move his tables and equipment behind the black curtain, and finally made another bow and himself disappeared behind the drapery.

  There was a hum of conversation in the room as the guests rose to leave, although Hope remained in his seat.

  Dr Hamid looked grim. ‘I will secure a cab at once,’ he told Mina, and left hurriedly.

  Thirty

  Mina went to examine the paper in Mr Hope’s hand, something he was more than willing for her to do. ‘Can you doubt the spirits now?’ he demanded. ‘The poor dear good man! How he suffers!’

  ‘You think this is a message from Dr Livingstone?’ Mina asked.

  ‘It can be none other! Who else would send me such a message! Imagine him, alone and ill, without succour, in the most terrible danger, probably dying!’

  ‘May I see the first message?’

  He thrust it at her distractedly and she was able to compare them. She did not say it, but saw that the handwriting on the second message was very much better than the first. Now that she thought about it, before the first message was written by the white hand, Stefan had shown both sides of the blank paper to the audience, but he had omitted to do so for the second one. While he had apparently dipped the pen in ink again, it was possible for him to have made the motion without actually wetting the pen. He might even have employed a second clean pen and provided a paper with the pre-written message, much like the trickery of the Davenport brothers. To the man who had made water transport itself between goblets, and produced a dry kerchief from a bottle of multi-coloured fluids, all things were possible. How clever, also, thought Mina, to engage with the question of the fate of Dr Livingstone, a matter that was constantly in the newspapers and therefore known to everyone, and about which it was impossible for anyone to check the veracity of the message. All these objections, she thought, would make no difference to the fixed opinions of Arthur Wallace Hope.

  Mina looked about her and saw again the sharp-faced lady with her secret smile, turning to leave.

  ‘Oh poor Mr Hope!’ said Enid, almost elbowing Mina out of the way in her eagerness to comfort the stricken explorer. ‘What a terrible thing! How you must suffer! And poor Dr Livingstone who is such a very saintly man. How brave he is! I promise to pray for him, I will pray very hard indeed!’ Enid did not have a large bosom, but what there was of it heaved mightily.

  ‘That is very much appreciated, Mrs Inskip,’ said Hope gratefully. ‘I too shall pray; indeed, I shall make an appeal to all the gentlemen of the church to include Dr Livingstone in their prayers this Sunday, to grant him the strength to go on until help can reach him.’ He rose to his feet, looking unusually weary. ‘Will you too include the good doctor in your prayers, Miss Scarletti?’

  ‘Of course I will. I pray for all the afflicted and unfortunate in this world.’

  Mina and her mother and sister returned home, Mina wondering whether there would be any result from Dr Hamid’s expedition. Now that she gave it some thought, she could not help but feel guilty about asking him to do something so dangerous to his reputation. Without knowing how long his adventure might take she was obliged to wait impatiently for a note, which she felt sure would merely be a request for a visit. He was a cautious man and given the nature of his errand, nothing of any significance would be committed to paper. The following morning, after receiving the expected summons, Mina departed early for the baths, where she found Dr Hamid in his office.

  She began by apol
ogising to him for asking him to act in such an unprofessional manner but he waved it aside. ‘The request was yours, but the choice was mine, and after what I saw I knew that something had to be done. I know it is not the kind of thing I ought to be undertaking, but I appear to be acquiring new skills in that department, and I am confident that I was not seen. I went as far as I could by cab but the roads are so narrow in the centre of town I found it easier to abandon it and travel on foot. It was not the most salubrious area. However, I can now tell you that the Mystic Stefan is lodging in rooms above a public house in Trafalgar Street. At any rate he went in through the side entrance avoiding the saloon bar entirely. I did look inside and there are stairs leading up to the next floor. That was where I believe he went. He was carrying two large bags, which must have held the materials he used in the performance. I remained in the street for a short while, pretending to be a traveller who had lost his way, in case he went out again, but he did not. However —’ he took a deep breath, ‘while I was there I saw a closed cab stop at the end of the street and a lady stepped down and began to walk towards where I stood. She wore a veil, but it was not Miss Bland, nevertheless I recognised her from her garments as a lady we both know, and I had to hide round the corner like a footpad in case she saw me. It was not the most edifying experience and I am reluctant to do anything like it again. Then, to my amazement, she entered the building through the same door Mystic Stefan had used, and I saw her ascend the stairs. I decided it would be highly unwise to remain and see how long she stayed there in case I attracted attention or encountered anyone else who knew me, so I went home.’