Book-cases lined the
walls, and there was a big sofa at right-angles to the fire....

Now all this, though it was a perfectly accurate description of a place
that, as far as could be ascertained, Mrs. Forrest had never seen,
might conceivably have been derived from Charles Hope’s mind, since he
knew the room well, having often stayed with me. But the medium added a
detail which could not conceivably have been thus derived, for Charles
believed it to be incorrect. She said that there was a big piano near
the bow-window, while he was sure that there was not. But oddly enough
I had hired a piano only a week or so ago, and it stood in the place
that she mentioned. The “control” then repeated that there was work
for him to do in that house. There was some situation or complication
there in which he could help, and he could “get through” better (that
is, make a clearer communication) if the medium could hold a séance
there. Charles Hope then told the control that he believed he knew
the house that he had been speaking of, and promised to do his best. Shortly afterwards Mrs. Forrest came out of trance, and, as usual, had
no recollection of what had passed. So Charles came to me with the story exactly as I have given it here,
and though I could not think of any situation or complication in which
an unknown control of a medium I had never seen could be of assistance,
the whole thing (and in especial that detail about the piano) was so
odd that I asked him to bring the medium down for a sitting or a series
of sittings. The day of their arrival was arranged, but when three days
ago Parkes had to go into hospital, I was inclined to put them off. But
a neighbour away for a week obligingly lent me a parlour-maid, and I
let the engagement stand. With regard to the situation in which the
control would be of assistance, I can but assure the reader that as far
as I thought about it at all, I only wondered whether it was concerned
with a book on which I was engaged, which dealt (if I could ever
succeed in writing it) with psychical affairs. But at present I could
not get on with it at all. I had made half a dozen beginnings which had
all gone into the waste-paper basket. My guests proved not to have come by the same train as I, but arrived
shortly before dinner-time, and after Mrs. Forrest had gone to her
room, I had a few words with Charles, who told me exactly how the
situation now stood. “I know your caution and your captiousness in these affairs,” he said,
“so I have told Mrs. Forrest nothing about the description she gave
of this house, or of the reason why I asked her to come here. I said
only, as we settled, that you were a great friend of mine and immensely
interested in psychical affairs, but a country-mouse whom it was
difficult to get up to town. But you would be delighted if she would
come down for a few days and give some sittings here.”

“And does she recognise the house, do you think?” I asked. “No sign of it. As I told you, when she comes out of trance she never
seems to have the faintest recollection of what she has said or
written. We shall have a séance, I hope, to-night after dinner.”

“Certainly, if she will,” said I. “I thought we had better hold it in
the garden-room, for that was the place that was so minutely described. It’s quite warm there, central-heating and a fire, and it’s only half a
dozen yards from the house. I’ve had the snow swept from the steps.”

Mrs. Forrest turned out to be a very intelligent woman, well spiced
with humour, gifted with a sane appreciation of the comforts of life,
and most agreeably furnished with the small change of talk. She
was inclined to be stout, but carried herself with briskness, and
neither in body nor mind did she suggest that she was one who held
communication with the unseen: there was nothing wan or occult about
her. Her general outlook on life appeared to be rather materialistic
than otherwise, and she was very interesting on the topic when, about
half-way through dinner, the subject of her mediumship came on the
conversational board. “My gifts, such as they are,” she said, “have nothing to do with this
person who sits eating and drinking and talking to you. She, as Mr.
Hope may have told you, is quite expunged before the subconscious part
of me--that is the latest notion, is it not?--gets into touch with
discarnate intelligences. Until that happens, the door is shut, and
when it is over, the door is shut again, and I have no recollection of
what I have said or written. The control uses my hand and my voice, but
that is all. I know no more about it than a piano on which a tune has
been played.”

“And there is a new control who has lately been using you?” I asked. She laughed. “You must ask Mr. Hope about that,” she said. “I know nothing
whatever of it. He tells me it is so, and he tells me--don’t you, Mr. Hope?--that he hasn’t any idea who or what the new control is. I look
forward to its development; my idea is that the control has to get used
to me, as in learning a new instrument. I assure you I am as eager as
anyone that he should gain facility in communication through me. I
hope, indeed, that we are to have a séance to-night.”

The talk veered again, and I learned that Mrs. Forrest had never been
in Tilling before, and was enchanted with the snowy moonlit glance she
had had of its narrow streets and ancient residences. She liked, too,
the atmosphere of the house: it seemed tranquil and kindly; especially
so was the little drawing-room where we had assembled before dinner. I glanced at Charles. “I had thought of proposing that we should sit in the garden-room,” I
said, “if you don’t mind half a dozen steps in the open. It adjoins the
house.”

“Just as you wish,” she said, “though I think we have excellent
conditions in here without going there.”

This confirmed her statement that she had no idea after she had come
out of trance what she had said, for otherwise she must have recognised
at the mention of the garden-room her own description of it, and when
soon after dinner we adjourned there, it was clear that, unless she
was acting an inexplicable part, the sight of it twanged no chord of
memory. There we made the very simple arrangements to which she was
accustomed. As the procedure in such sittings is possibly unfamiliar to the reader,
I will describe quite shortly what our arrangements were. We had no
idea what form these manifestations--if there were any--might take,
and therefore we, Charles and I, were prepared to record them on the
spot. We three sat round a small table about a couple of yards from
the fire, which was burning brightly; Mrs. Forrest seated herself in
a big armchair. Exactly in front of her on the table were a pencil
and a block of paper in case, as often happened, the manifestation
took the form of automatic script--writing, that is, while in a state
of trance.