The Shadow in the North
see, this is scientific proof! When I publish my paper, this meeting of the Streatham and District Spiritualist League will be seen to mark a turning point in the history of psychical research. No, that wouldn't surprise me at all. Wonderfiil result."
    Gratified by this, the circle broke up, and Mrs. Jamieson Wilcox, whose nature turned automatically to sustenance at moments of crisis, suggested a nice cup of tea all around. It was soon brought in; Mrs. Budd was surrounded by a small group of admirers, and Frederick and Mr. Humphries conversed earnestly by the fire while Jim packed the electrodermograph away, with the help of the prettiest girl in the room.
    Presently some of the guests rose to leave, and Frederick rose with them. He shook hands all around, detached Jim from the girl, and paid an especially appreciative tribute to Mrs. Budd before leaving the house.
    A thin, nervous, middle-aged man left at the same time, as if by chance, and walked with them toward the station. As soon as they turned a corner Frederick stopped and took off his glasses.
    "That's better," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Well, Mr.

    Price. Is that what you expected? Does she always do that?"
    Mr. Price nodded. "I'm sorry about your machine," he said. He had the air of being sorry about most things.
    "Nothing to be sorry about. What d'you know about electricity?"
    "Nothing at all, I'm afraid to say."
    "Nor do most people. I could wire up this box to a cucumber and tell 'em it contained the soul of their uncle Albert, and if the needle jumped, they'd never know the difference. No, this is a camera."
    "Oh! But I thought you had to have chemicals and all sorts ..."
    "Used to with the old wet-collodion plates. Had to slap the stuff on fresh every time. This is loaded with a gelatin plate—new invention. Much more convenient."
    "And the flash was deliberate. Can't take photographs in the dark. I look forward to seeing Nellie Budd up to her tricks when I develop the plate. . . . But that stuff about sparks and shadows and the North Star. That was different."
    "Indeed, Mr. Garland. That was what alarmed me in the first place. I've seen Mrs. Budd four times now, and each time she's gone into a trance like that, quite different from the rest of the performance, and she's come out with details of matters I know about in the city—

    The Shadow in the North
    financial dealings, things like that—highly confidential, some of them. It's inexplicable."
    "Did you recognize any of that stuff tonight? Whos this Hopkinson, for instance?"
    "That name means nothing to me, Mr. Garland. Her colloquy was dark and obscure tonight. Only the business about the bells, and North Star ..."
    "She said the bellman^ if you remember. Well, that's the name of my employer—Mr. Bellmann. Axel Bell-mann, the Swedish financier. And North Star is the name of a new company he's formed. What I fear is that word will get out, you see, Mr. Garland, and suspicion attach to myself. ... A clerk has only his good name for recommendation. My wife's not very well, and if anything should happen to me, I dread to think ..."
    "Yes, I understand."
    "I'm afraid the poor lady—Mrs. Budd, I mean—is under the control of a disembodied intelligence," said Mr. Price, blinking under the gaslight in the slight drizzle.
    "Quite possibly," said Frederick. "Well, you've certainly shown me something interesting, Mr. Price. Leave it with us—^and stop worrying."
    "All right," said Jim in the train, ten minutes later. "I changed me mind. There /j something in it."
    Frederick, balancing the camera on his knees, had just written down what Nellie Budd had said in her

    strange trance, at Jims dictation. Jim was good with words; he'd remembered it all. And he'd spotted something odd.
    "It links up with Mackinnon!" he said, reading it back.
    "Don't be daft," said Frederick.
    "It bloody does, mate. Listen. Sword in the forest — oh, blood on the snow, and the ice — he's still there, all in a

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