"I think he did, sir, if I may say so. I seemed to lose sight of him, as
it were--" The man stammered, evidently convinced by now that he had
earned his dismissal. "He come in so funny, just like a cold wind," he
added boldly, setting his heels at attention and looking his master full
in the face. The doctor made an internal note of the man's halting description; he
was pleased that the slight signs of psychic intuition which had induced
him to engage Barker had not entirely failed at the first trial. Dr. Silence sought for this qualification in all his assistants, from
secretary to serving man, and if it surrounded him with a somewhat
singular crew, the drawbacks were more than compensated for on the whole
by their occasional flashes of insight. "So the gentleman made you feel queer, did he?" "That was it, I think, sir," repeated the man stolidly. "And he brings no kind of introduction to me--no letter or anything?" asked the doctor, with feigned surprise, as though he knew what was
coming. The man fumbled, both in mind and pockets, and finally produced an
envelope. "I beg pardon, sir," he said, greatly flustered; "the gentleman handed
me this for you." It was a note from a discerning friend, who had never yet sent him a
case that was not vitally interesting from one point or another. "Please see the bearer of this note," the brief message ran, "though I
doubt if even you can do much to help him." John Silence paused a moment, so as to gather from the mind of the
writer all that lay behind the brief words of the letter. Then he looked
up at his servant with a graver expression than he had yet worn. "Go back and find this gentleman," he said, "and show him into the green
study. Do not reply to his question, or speak more than actually
necessary; but think kind, helpful, sympathetic thoughts as strongly as
you can, Barker. You remember what I told you about the importance of
_thinking_, when I engaged you. Put curiosity out of your mind, and
think gently, sympathetically, affectionately, if you can." He smiled, and Barker, who had recovered his composure in the doctor's
presence, bowed silently and went out. There were two different reception-rooms in Dr. Silence's house. One
(intended for persons who imagined they needed spiritual assistance when
really they were only candidates for the asylum) had padded walls, and
was well supplied with various concealed contrivances by means of which
sudden violence could be instantly met and overcome. It was, however,
rarely used. The other, intended for the reception of genuine cases of
spiritual distress and out-of-the-way afflictions of a psychic nature,
was entirely draped and furnished in a soothing deep green, calculated
to induce calmness and repose of mind. And this room was the one in
which Dr. Silence interviewed the majority of his "queer" cases, and the
one into which he had directed Barker to show his present caller. To begin with, the arm-chair in which the patient was always directed to
sit, was nailed to the floor, since its immovability tended to impart
this same excellent characteristic to the occupant. Patients invariably
grew excited when talking about themselves, and their excitement tended
to confuse their thoughts and to exaggerate their language. The
inflexibility of the chair helped to counteract this. After repeated
endeavours to drag it forward, or push it back, they ended by resigning
themselves to sitting quietly. And with the futility of fidgeting there
followed a calmer state of mind. Upon the floor, and at intervals in the wall immediately behind, were
certain tiny green buttons, practically unnoticeable, which on being
pressed permitted a soothing and persuasive narcotic to rise invisibly
about the occupant of the chair. The effect upon the excitable patient
was rapid, admirable, and harmless. The green study was further provided
with a secret spy-hole; for John Silence liked when possible to observe
his patient's face before it had assumed that mask the features of the
human countenance invariably wear in the presence of another person. A
man sitting alone wears a psychic expression; and this expression is the
man himself. It disappears the moment another person joins him. And Dr. Silence often learned more from a few moments' secret observation of a
face than from hours of conversation with its owner afterwards. A very light, almost a dancing, step followed Barker's heavy tread
towards the green room, and a moment afterwards the man came in and
announced that the gentleman was waiting. He was still pale and his
manner nervous. "Never mind, Barker" the doctor said kindly; "if you were not psychic
the man would have had no effect upon you at all. You only need training
and development. And when you have learned to interpret these feelings
and sensations better, you will feel no fear, but only a great
sympathy." "Yes, sir; thank you, sir!" And Barker bowed and made his escape, while
Dr. Silence, an amused smile lurking about the corners of his mouth,
made his way noiselessly down the passage and put his eye to the
spy-hole in the door of the green study. This spy-hole was so placed that it commanded a view of almost the
entire room, and, looking through it, the doctor saw a hat, gloves, and
umbrella lying on a chair by the table, but searched at first in vain
for their owner. The windows were both closed and a brisk fire burned in the grate. There
were various signs--signs intelligible at least to a keenly intuitive
soul--that the room was occupied, yet so far as human beings were
concerned, it was empty, utterly empty. No one sat in the chairs; no one
stood on the mat before the fire; there was no sign even that a patient
was anywhere close against the wall, examining the Bocklin
reproductions--as patients so often did when they thought they were
alone--and therefore rather difficult to see from the spy-hole. Ordinarily speaking, there was no one in the room. It was undeniable. Yet Dr. Silence was quite well aware that a human being _was_ in the
room. His psychic apparatus never failed in letting him know the
proximity of an incarnate or discarnate being. Even in the dark he could
tell that. And he now knew positively that his patient--the patient who
had alarmed Barker, and had then tripped down the corridor with that
dancing footstep--was somewhere concealed within the four walls
commanded by his spy-hole. He also realised--and this was most
unusual--that this individual whom he desired to watch knew that he was
being watched. And, further, that the stranger himself was also
watching! In fact, that it was he, the doctor, who was being
observed--and by an observer as keen and trained as himself. An inkling of the true state of the case began to dawn upon him, and he
was on the verge of entering--indeed, his hand already touched the
door-knob--when his eye, still glued to the spy-hole, detected a slight
movement. Directly opposite, between him and the fireplace, something
stirred.