A Rich Full Death by Michael Dibdin

Author:Michael Dibdin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Mystery, Historical
ISBN: 0571150454
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 1986-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

We were led through into a back parlour, hung with tapestries and very sparsely furnished: just a plain sideboard, supporting a single candlestick, and a circular table surrounded by seven high-backed chairs. On the table lay a semi-circular cloth with the letters of the alphabet inscribed around its rim, and two spaces within, marked respectively Yes and No. Nearby stood the small heart-shaped board mounted on rollers which the spiritualists term a ‘planchette’.

When we had taken our places—this operation being supervised by Miss Kate—Miss Chauncey directed us to take the hand of the person sitting to either side of us. I complied with no very great enthusiasm, placed as I was between Miss Jessica Tate and the Very Reverend Tinker. Miss Tate’s member proved to be clammy, and given to frequent and presumably involuntary spasms; the man of religion had an almost fiercely positive grasp, which may have been intended to conceal the underlying tremor which I nevertheless detected.

We were now directed to close our eyes, and to concentrate all our thoughts on Isabel. This I duly tried to do, but I found to my consternation that every image came out first as stiff as a waxwork, and then began to melt and run, producing that hideous discoloration and rictus of the corpse I will never be able to forget. To rid myself of these visions I opened my eyes—and was unnerved to find Edith Chauncey, who was sitting opposite, staring fixedly back at me with unblinking insistence, as though inspecting some interesting detail etched on the interior of my skull.

I immediately assumed that I had incurred her displeasure by disturbing the ectoplasmic vibrations, or whatever. A moment later, however, I realised that her stare was too intense and unyielding to be a glare of disapproval, however strong. What was disturbing in her expression—as with that of a blind person —was what was not there: direction, focus, intent. Those eyes did not see me, did not see any of us. Edith Chauncey had entered her trance.

Her sister now instructed us to open our eyes, release our hands, and place the index finger of our right hand on the planchette. The little board rolled idly about for a moment or two under the various impulses it received, and was still.

For a few minutes nothing whatever happened. Then, so faintly at first that it was only after hearing it for some time that I understood what it was, a voice became audible in the room: a low resonant voice, unlike any I had heard so far. But I soon realised that it was emanating from Miss Chauncey’s throat, although at least an octave deeper than her usual organ.

‘Isabel … Isabel … Isabel …’ she intoned, drawing the word out so lengthily that it sounded as though she was about to formulate a question concerning the nature of bells.

My feeling had at first been one of lively interest, coupled with a little natural apprehension. However, as time went by, and Edith Chauncey’s trance-voice

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.