The Heart Line 62

The Heart Line 62

"You’re in luck, Vixley, I tell you! I’ve had no end of trouble. Why,

last week a couple o’ fresh guys come in and scattered a package of

tacks all over the floor. When I come out in my stocking feet I thought

I’d die, it hurt so. But I had to just grin and bear it! My feet are

so sore yet I can hardly walk. I have to sweep the carpet now, just as

soon as it’s dark, every time, unless Lulu’s there to watch out!"

 

Vixley laughed for almost five minutes. He had to dry his eyes with a

silk handkerchief.

 

"Oh, Professor," said Flora, "I almost forgot what I came for. You know

Harry’s doing the Middle West now with Mademoiselle Laflamme, the

Inspirational Contralto, and he wanted me to ask you if you had anything

on Missouri and Iowa. Would you mind lending him your test-book? You

was out there a few years ago, wasn’t you?"

 

"Sure. I’ll look and see if I can find it," and Vixley arose and left

the room. He was gone a few minutes, and returned with a small,

blue-covered note-book.

 

"Here’s my test-book," he said, handing it over. "It’s rather behind the

times. It was five years ago that I was out there, but maybe Harry can

get something out of it."

 

"How did you get the dope, swapping?"

 

"Oh, no, I done it all myself, and it’s O.K. I went through the country

first as a book-agent, and I kep’ my eyes and ears open. I took a look

or two through the cemeteries, when I had time, and I read up the local

papers pretty good. Of course I wouldn’t go back till a year after I

got a town planted, but then it was easy graft."

 

"I suppose these abbreviations are all plain?"

 

"Yes, Harry will read that all right, he knows the regular cipher. The

name after the first one is the party’s control. I’ve writ in a few

messages that’ll work, and all the tests I know."

 

She opened the book and ran through the pages which ran something like

this:

 

Jefferson City, Mo.

Mrs. Henry Field "Mayflower" hb John died

pneumonia 1870 good wishes from little

Emily broken leg.

 

Cameron, Mo.

Mrs. Osborne "Pauline" hub James calls him Jimmie

da disappeared July 1897 found drowned in Red

River August Aunt Molly is happy Love to Belle

and Joe.

 

 

Flora put the book in her bag, and then reached over and took up one of

the slates. The one on top was marked diagonally with two chalk-lines,

and over this was written in slate-pencil the following inscription:

 

801,101

Chapter

Marigold.

 

Beside this, was a thin sheet of slate. She placed it over the marked

surface. It fitted the frame exactly and looked, at a cursory glance,

precisely like the other slates, its dark surface being clean.

 

She took up another slate. On this was written:

 

Unforeseen difficulties will prevent your

book being successful, if you do not take

care. Felicia.

 

 

The Professor grinned. "That’s the dope for old Payson," he explained.

"He ought to be here any time, now." He went to the window and looked

out.

 

"What game are you going to work with him?" Flora asked.

 

"Oh, only a few of the old stunts. He’s so easy that it won’t be

nothin’ but child’s play. I got a lot of the old-fashioned slab-slates

for a starter, and I can change ’em on him whenever I want. He won’t

insist on test conditions. Anyways, if he does, I got my little spirit

friend here handy."

 

He reached up his sleeve, and pulled down a thimble attached to an

elastic cord. To the end of the thimble a small piece of slate-pencil

was affixed.

 

"The only hard part about it is learnin’ to write backwards and upside

down," he commented, as he let the instrument snap back out of sight.

"Say, I wish’t I had a double-jointed leg like Slade! I tell you I’d

give some sittin’s in this town that would paralyze the Psychical

Research!"

 

"But what’s this stuff on the slates mean?"

 

"Oh, them is the answers I’ve prepared. You see, I happened to get hold

of some questions he’s goin’ to ask, from a young fellow who goes to his

house; and so havin’ inside information, it saves considerable trouble.

Funny thing—this chap wants to marry the daughter, who’ll have money, I

suppose, and he’s standin’ in with me on account o’ what I can do for

him through the old man."

 

"Why, I heard that Granthope was setting his traps for her!"

 

Vixley scowled. "That’s right, too. Frank’s got something up his

sleeve that I can’t fathom. He’s been trying to buy me off, in fact,

but he’ll never do it. This fellow Cayley naturally has got it in for

him, Frank bein’ pretty thick with the girl. So I got to play both ends

and work the old man for Cayley and against Frank. But I can do it all

right. The old man’s a cinch!"

 

Flora walked up to him. "You’re in luck," she said. She permitted him

to put his arm about her small trim waist and looked at him

good-naturedly. "Say, Vixley, if he’s as easy as that, why can’t you fix

it for some good materializing? We could do all sorts of things for

him."

 

"I’d thought of that. It might be a good idea later, and we may talk

business with you."

 

"Well, when you’re ready, I’ll do anything you say. You know me."

 

At that moment the front door-bell rang.

 

"Here he is now!" Vixley exclaimed. "Say, Flora, you go out the back

door through the kitchen, will you? It won’t do for him to see you

here."

 

"Sure! I’ll spare him. The Doc says he’s scared to death of a pretty

woman," and she disappeared down the hall.

 

Professor Vixley went to the front door, welcomed Mr. Payson with an

oily smile, took his hat and coat and then let him into a small chamber

next to the front room. There were two straight chairs here on either

side of a table which was draped with an embroidered cloth. Behind was

a high bookcase.

 

"Well, I’m all ready for you, Mr. Payson," said the medium. "We’ll see

what we can do. If we don’t get anything I won’t charge you a cent.

Have you ever seen any slate-writin’ done before?"

 

"No, I haven’t," said Mr. Payson, "but I’ve heard a good deal about it."

 

"It’s a very interestin’ phenomena. Now, before we begin, p’raps you’d

like to examine this table; it’s been examined so often, that it’s

pretty well used to it by this time, but I want to have you satisfied

that there’s no possibility of trickery or deceit."

 

As he spoke, he took off the cover, and turned the table upside down.

Mr. Payson looked it over gravely and knocked on the top to see if it

were hollow. The investigation finished, Professor Vixley said:

 

"May I ask who recommended you to me?"

 

"Madam Spoll—I suppose you know her."

 

"Oh, yes, and I admire her, too. Madam Spoll is a wonderful woman. I

don’t know how this community could get on without her. She’s brought

more satisfaction to them desirin’ communication with their dear

departed than all the rest of us mediums put together. She’s doin’ a

great work, Mr. Payson. But she has more success with what you might

call affairs of the heart, while I find my control prefers generally to

help out in the way of business. We’re all specialists, nowadays, you

know."

 

"I should think that the spirits could help in one way as well as

another."

 

"Now would you?" said Vixley, fixing the old man with his glittering

eyes. "Spirits ain’t so much different from people on this side. Some

o’ them is interested in one thing, and some in another, same as we are.

Some is nearer what I might call the material plane and some has

progressed so they don’t take much interest in earthly affairs."

 

"It seems to me that I’d always have an interest in my friends," said

Mr. Payson.

 

"Does it?" Vixley replied. "Where was you raised?"

 

"In Vermont. I lived there till I was ten years old."

 

"Well, are you much interested in the kids you knew when you went to

school there?"

 

"Perhaps not."

 

"Well, then, that’s the way it is with spirits who have got progression.

Their life on earth seems like childhood’s days to them. Lord, they

have their own business to attend to. I expect it keeps ’em pretty

busy."

 

"Well, I don’t know." Mr. Payson shook his head and seated himself.

"It’s all very strange and mysterious. But I’m only an investigator, and

what I want is the truth, no matter what it may be."

 

"That’s the right frame o’ mind to come in," said Vixley; "you treat me

right and I’ll treat you right. Have a cigar?" He took one from his

pocket and put it unlighted into his mouth, offering another to Mr.

Payson."No, thanks, I don’t smoke."