'Oh, crime!' said Hilary, and smiled. 'Let me ask you something. Suppose every thought that came into your head in the course of one day were written down, and the whole thing read out to an assembled group of your friends.'

  'God forbid!'

  'You wouldn't like it?'

  'I rather think I should prefer to be boiled in oil,' Chase declared reflectively.

  'And yet you haven't committed any crime; any great crime, that is?' 'No. None that worries me, anyhow.' There was a silence.

  'Oh, and another thing,' pursued Hilary, with a glow of pure mischief in her blue eyes. 'We can leave out crimes. We can even leave out your feminine conquests, or attempted conquests. You don't have to own up to the times you've seen a girl you rather liked, and invited her away somewhere, and thought, "That's nice; that'll be easy," when really you didn't know anything about her. People talk about "secrets," but usually all they mean is secrets about love-affairs or would-be love-affairs - '

  'And usually they're quite right,' said Chase with candour. But even in the gloom you could see the blood come into his face.

  'Well? Leaving out crime and all matters of sex, would you still -'

  'No, look here!' interrupted Chase. 'This is going too far. We're supposed to be having an academic argument; not a game of Truth. Besides, why have my shortcomings and stupidities got to be pitched on? Would you like your thoughts for the course of a day to be paraded out in front of everybody?'

  'I should hope not,' said Hilary fervently.

  'Aha! Even apart from crime and sex, you've thought thoughts you wouldn't have known?'

  'Yes.'

  'In fact you've even thought thoughts about crime and sex?'

  'Of course.'

  'Well, that's all right, then,' said Chase, mollified. 'So, before the party becomes rowdy, suppose we drop the subject.'

  'We can't drop it. That's just the point, don't you understand? You see how easy it is to start a thing like this going, just as we've been doing now. That's not because we're all criminals, but because we're all human. And it's why we've got to persuade Mina to get rid of this man Pennik.'

  Chase hesitated, and Hilary turned to Sanders.

  'He's going to make trouble,' Hilary said. 'I don't mean that his intentions are evil or that he's a mischief-maker. No. On the contrary, his intentions are good, and in that unassuming way of his he's rather charming -'

  Then what are you worried about?' inquired Chase: though he himself looked far from at ease.

  'Because that's just the whole difficulty. Unless he's a bigger charlatan than seems possible, he really believes in this gift of his. Under that mild exterior of his he would do anything, anything to convince people it was true. Particularly since Mr Constable -'

  'Sam.'

  'Sam, then. Particularly since Sam antagonizes him at every turn. You remember what happened when he gave that demonstration at their flat in town. Can't you imagine what he might do if he really chose to make trouble among a group like us? Or among any other group in the wide world? What do you say, Dr Sanders?'

  It was growing darker in the glass-roofed room, hollow with the faint echo of the fountain and full of plants' that had turned to shadows. The orange-red square of the electric fire glowed more brightly. Sanders had begun to understand his invitation to Fourways.

  He looked at Chase.

  'Tell me,' he said. 'Was it your idea that H. M. and I should investigate this fellow? Find out whether or not he's a fake?'

  Chase looked hurt.

  'Oh, don't put it like that. Not at all! Both Sam and Mina particularly wanted to invite you.'

  'Thanks. And, before we go into this, where are our hosts? I ought to present myself. Having barged in here -'

  'That's all right. They're both out. They went over to Guildford to see how the servants were getting on, and to see whether they could dig up anybody to cook a scratch meal or attend to things generally. It's upset Mina, especially with another book on the way -' 'Another what on the way?'

  'Book. You know.' Chase broke off. His eyes opened wide, and he knocked his knuckles against his forehead. 'Good Lord alive,' he said; 'you don't mean to say you don't know? I thought everybody knew.'

  'Not when you are entrusted with telling it.'

  'Mina Constable,' explained Chase, 'is really Mina Shields - the lady novelist, you know. And don't laugh.'

  'Why the devil should I laugh?'

  'I don't know,' Chase said gloomily, 'except that for some reason all lady novelists are supposed to be funny. Sort of dogma. Anyhow, Mina is a modern Marie Corelli. By that I don't mean anything pompous or flighty or on the preaching side: Mina is the best of good scouts, as you'll see. She may write romances about reincarnation in Egypt or Satan in the suburbs, but she's sound. When she wanted to do a novel about a temple in the middle of French Indo-China, -she didn't trust to the books; by George, she went to French Indo-China. That trip nearly killed Sam; and Mina too, for that matter. They both went down with malaria. Sam says he can't get warm even yet. Which is why they have these portable fires blazing in every room, and the place is like an oven. Don't open too many windows, or you'll have him on your neck.'

  Hilary spoke with a certain intensity, looking over her shoulder at the spray of the fountain. 'Yes. I dare say you will.' 'Now, now!'

  'Mrs Constable is fine,' said Hilary. 'I like her enormously. But Mr Constable - no, I am not going to call him Sam -ugh!'

  'Nonsense! Sam's all right. It's only that he's the complete British clubman, and he's a bit fussy.'

  'He is at least twenty years older than she is,' Hilary said dispassionately, 'and not attractive in any conceivable way that I can see. Yet the way he orders her about, ticks her off, calls attention to things in public - well, before I would let any man do that to me, I'd go off and take poison in a corner.'

  Chase spread out his hands. 'She's fond of him, that's all. Like one of her heroes in the books. He was what used to be called a fine figure of a man before he retired.'

  'Which the rest of us can't afford to do,' said Hilary rather bitterly.

  'Oh, all right.' Chase started to speak, and then seemed to change his mind. 'Anyway, we might just as well stop talking about them in their own house.' Again he hesitated. 'Look here, Sanders, it's no good denying that bout of malaria changed him a bit, and Mina too. He snaps sometimes, though you can't help liking him. I don't know whether I want this mind-reading fellow to be proved a fake or the real thing. He's Mina's discovery, and she seems to think a lot of him; though I've sometimes wondered if it isn't her sense of humour working. Sam doesn't like him, and there's a kind of undeclared row hovering and darkening. The point is, will you and the notorious H. M. do your best for us?'

  CHAPTER II

  Sanders was almost himself again. He felt enormously flattered and, for the first time in weeks, cheered.

  ‘Of course. But-'

  ‘But what?'

  'You seem to have got the wrong idea of me, I'm afraid. I'm not a detective. My work is forensic medicine. I don't see how anything I know or could investigate would apply to this man. At the same time -'

  ‘Cautious blighter,' Chase explained to Hilary.

  'At the same time, it's hard to say what particular branch of science or pseudo-science would apply to him if he were genuine. What is his science? By what rule does he work, or pretend to work?'

  'I don't think I understand, old boy.'

  ‘Well, most of the "mind-readers" I ever encountered have been of the music-hall variety. You know the sort of thing: working in pairs. The woman sits blindfolded, the man goes among the audience. 'What am I holding in my hand?' 'and so on. Then, of course, there's the fellow who works alone, makes you write questions on bits of paper, and reads them from a sealed envelope; but he is usually such an obvious fake that if you have an elementary knowledge of conjuring you can spot him. If he's like either of those two sorts, I can help you. Is he?'

  'Good Lord, no!' said Chase, staring.

  ‘Why the vehemence?'

  Hilary Keen made a wry face. 'What Larry means,' she explained, 'is that he's no end of an academic swell. Degrees from all over the place. I'm not necessarily impressed by that, but it's no good denying it carries some weight with regard to his sincerity. - Besides, he's nothing like the sort you describe.'

  'Then what does he do? That is to say, he doesn't just look you in the eye and say, "You are thinking of a bathing-hut on the beach at Southend," does he?'

  'I'm afraid he does,' answered Hilary.

  It was growing darker, a powdery twilight in which the palms of the conservatory became weights of shadow and the orange-red square of the fire stood out with fierce distinctness. Even so, they must have seen the expression on Sanders's face. '

  'Aha!' said Chase, nodding with great profundity. 'Shakes you up, does it? Why?'

  'Because it's incredible. If s scientific gibberish.' Sanders hesitated. 'I won't deny that in the past there have been certain fairly successful experiments in telepathy. William James believed in it, for instance. So did Hegel and Schelling and Schopenhauer, though recently it has died down from sheer lack of investigation. The trouble is that nothing can be regarded as a scientific fact which won't work at will and all the time, on the same recurring principles; and more often than not telepathy hasn't worked at all. If the operator complains that he is not in the mood, or that "conditions aren't right", he may be honest, but he's not being scientific. - Who is this man, by the way? What do you know about him?'

  There was a brooding pause before Hilary replied.

  'Nothing, really. Except that he's apparently quite well off and doesn't stand to gain a penny by any of this. Mina met him on her way back from this trip to Indo-China. He calls himself a student.'

  'A student of what?'

  'Of thought as a force. You must get him to explain. And yet all the time,' said Hilary, her soft voice tautening and sharpening, 'I've got a feeling that there's something not quite right about him. I don't mean as regards his being a fake; but something at the back of his own mind. Worry? Self-consciousness? Inferiority complex? You have a feeling that he regards this thought-reading as only a kind of minor prelude to something - Oh, I don't know! Talk to him; that is, if he will'

  'I should be only too pleased,' said a new voice.

  There was a rustle in the strip of grass outside the conservatory. Twilight touched the stained-glass above, and the long pale oblong of the open window below; and a man moved into that oblong.

  The light was not strong enough to make out more than outlines. The newcomer was rather under middle height, with a broad chest, and legs very slightly bowed. You felt rather than saw a smile as he inclined his head. His voice was heavy, slow-speaking, and pleasant.

  'Lights. We'd better get some lights on,' Chase said hastily - and Sanders could have sworn that in the way he spoke there was a touch of panic.

  He went over and pressed a switch. Under each corner of the glass dome, a cluster of electric globes bloomed like luminous fruit. They had the garish and snaky appearance of such fixtures popular at the end of the nineteenth century; they brought out the garishness of gilt and palms and coloured glass.

  'Thank you,' said the newcomer. 'Dr Sanders?'

  'Yes. Mr-?'

  'Pennik,' said the newcomer. 'Herman Pennik.'

  He extended his hand. You would not have found a more unobtrusive or disarming figure than Mr Herman Pennik, despite the curious momentary impression gained from his appearance at the window. He scraped the soles of his shoes carefully on the window-sill to avoid bringing mud into the room. Before shaking hands he even glanced over his shoulder, down at the soles of his shoes as he tilted them up, to make sure.

  His age might have been the middle forties. He had a hard-looking head with homely-looking sandy hair; a broad, homely face with leathery wrinkles round the jaw, darkish from hot suns; a broad nose, and light eyes under sandy brows. You saw no sign of strong intellect in that face. There was even a touch of heaviness or coarseness round the mouth. But Herman Pennik had a habit of being incon-spicuous in many things.

  He spoke apologetically, with a slight ducking motion of the shoulders.

  'How do you do, sir? I am sorry. I could not help overhearing what was said.'

  Sanders returned his formal courtesy.

  'I hope I was not too frank, Mr Pennik. You don't mind?'

  'Not at all. You understand, I hardly know why I am here myself, not being much endowed with the social graces. But Mrs Constable wished me to come, and here I am.'

  He smiled; and Sanders felt the pull of a curious psychological reaction. In spite of righting against it, the very reputation Pennik had created for himself made Sanders uneasy. It surrounded Pennik like an aura; it had to be shaken off; it was formidable and disturbing. It prompted the insidious thought: What if this fellow can read my mind ? For there was certainly a change in the atmosphere,

  'Shall we sit down ?' Pennik suggested suddenly. 'Couldn't I get you a chair, Miss Keen? Wouldn't you be more comfortable than sitting on the rim of that fountain?'

  'I'm quite comfortable, thanks.'

  ·You're - er - quite sure ?'

  'Quite sure, thank you.' t

  Though she smiled, Sanders felt that she also sensed another quality about Mr Herman Pennik. His manner underwent a change when he spoke to her; his words were clumsy; he had the air of an embarrassed small boy; and afterwards he sat down hastily in a wicker chair.

  Immediately he was easy again, though Sanders noticed that he took a deep breath.

  'We were just telling the doctor,' began Lawrence Chase, tall and lean and now revealed as going a trifle bald, 'about some of the things you've done.'

  Pennik made a deprecating gesture.

  'Thank you, Mr Chase. And did he seem - responsive?'

  'To tell you the truth, I think he was a little shocked.' ' Indeed? May I ask, sir, why you should be shocked?'

  Sanders had begun to feel dogged; it was as though he and not Pennik were on the defensive. At the same time, he wished the fellow would keep those damned eyes away from him. And curse all these undercurrents. All the time this was going on, Sanders found himself catching Hilary Keen's eye, being annoyed with himself, and looking away again.

  'I should hardly call it shocked,' he said dryly. 'Startled, if you like. Any person who deals with realities like anatomy -'

  'Tut, tut,' said Chase. 'Keep it clean.'

  'Any scientist, then, is opposed to a claim which -' He paused. What he wanted to say was, 'a claim which upsets the uniformity of Nature,' but he realized that this would sound pompous and priggish enough to raise a grin. 'To a claim like that.'

  'I see,' said Pennik. 'And therefore science refuses to investigate it because the results might prove inconvenient?'

  'Not at all.'

  Pennik's homely brow was ruffled; but bis eye had a twinkle.

  'Yet you yourself acknowledge, sir, that successful experiments in telepathy have been carried out in the past?'

  'To a certain extent. But to nowhere near the extent you claim to have carried them.'

  'You object to my making progress?-Surely, sir, that is as unreasonable as saying that because the first experiments in wireless telegraphy were incomplete though successful the matter had better be dropped?'

  (Be careful. He can give you points and a beating if you let him go on like that. The argument by false analogy is an old one.)

  'That's what I was coming to, Mr Pennik. Wireless telegraphy is based on principles which can be explained. Can you explain yours ?'

  'To the proper listener.'

  ‘Not to me?'

  'Sir,' answered Pennik, with a heavy, honest, disturbed look, 'try to understand me. You think I am arguing falsely because I argue by comparisons. But when a thing is entirely new, How else can I argue except by comparisons ? How else can I make my meaning clear? Suppose I tried to explain the principles of wireless telegraphy to a - a savage from Central Asia. I beg your pardon. Comparisons are invidious. Suppose I tried to explain the principles of wireless to a highly cultured Roman of the first century a.d. To him the principles would sound as mysterious as the result; the principles would even sound as incredible as the result. That is my unfortunate position when people demand blueprints.

  'Given time, I can explain it to you. The basis is, roughly, that thought, or what we call thought-waves, have a physical force not disimilar to sound. But if it would take five weeks for an educated Roman to begin to understand wireless telegraphy, do not be surprised if you fail to understand wireless telepathy in five minutes.'

  Sanders disregarded this.

  'You maintain,' he insisted, 'that thought-waves have a physical force like sound?' 'I do.'

  'But even sound, scientifically, can be measured and weighed.'

  - 'Of course. Notes in sound can shatter glass or even kill a man. The same, naturally, applies to thought.'

  He spoke with a kind of toiling lucidity. Sanders's first notion - that the man was mad - he knew in his heart to be wrong.

  'For the moment, Mr Pennik,' he said, 'we will pass over the question of whether you might be able to kill a man by thinking about him, like a Bantu witch-doctor. Instead let's get down to plain words that even a person of my limited intelligence can understand. What exactly do you do?’

  'I will give you an illustration,' replied Pennik simply. 'If you will concentrate your thoughts on something - anything at all, but particularly a person or idea that bulks large in .your life - I will tell you what you are thinking about.'

  This was something like a challenge.

  'You claim to be able to do that with everyone?'

  ‘With nearly everyone. Of course, if you do not assist me,

  and try to hide what you are really thinking about, it is much more difficult. But it can be managed.'

  It was the complete simplicity of the man which shook Sanders's nerve. He found his own thoughts scattering wildly, bolting into corners, in case they should be seen.

  'And you want me to test you?'

 

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