The Hidden Force Part 8

The manifestation was incomprehensible.

Suddenly, however, the table began spelling hurriedly, as though it had something at its heels. The taps were counted and spelt:

"Le ... onie Ou ... dijck...."

"What about Mrs. van Oudijck?"

A coa.r.s.e word followed.

The ladies started, excepting Ida, who sat as though in a trance.

"The table has spoken.... What did it say?... What is Mrs. van Oudijck?" cried the voices, all speaking at once.

"It's incredible!" murmured Eva. "Are we all playing fair?"

They all protested their honesty.

"Let us really be honest, else there's no fun in it.... I wish I could be certain."

They all wished that: Mrs. Rantzow, Ida, Van Helderen, Eva. The others looked on eagerly, believing; but the doctor did not believe and sat sn.i.g.g.e.ring.

Again the table grated angrily and tapped: and the leg began to spell, "A...," and repeated the coa.r.s.e word.

"Why?" asked Mrs. Rantzow.

The table began to tap.

"Write it down, Onno!" said Eva to her husband.

Eldersma fetched a pencil and paper and wrote the message down.

Three names followed: one of a member of council, one of a departmental head, and one of a young business-man.

"When people aren't backbiting in India, the tables begin to backbite!" said Eva.

"The spirits," murmured Ida.

"They are generally mocking spirits," said Mrs. Rantzow, didactically.

But the table went on tapping.

"Write it down, Onno!" said Eva.

Eldersma wrote it down.

"A-d-d-i-e!" the leg tapped out.

"No!" the voices all cried together, in vehement denial. "This time the table's mistaken!... At least, young De Luce has never yet been mentioned in connection with Mrs. van Oudijck."

"T-h-e-o!" said the table, correcting itself.

"Her step-son!... It's terrible!... That's different!... Everybody knows that!" cried the voices in a.s.sent.

"Yes, we know that!" said Mrs. Rantzow, with a glance at the leg of the table. "Come, tell us something that we don't know. Come, table! Come, spirit! Please!..."

She addressed the table-leg in coaxing, wheedling accents. Everybody laughed. The table grated.

"Be serious!" Mrs. Doorn de Bruijn said, in warning.

The table bounced down on Ida's lap.

"Oh my!" cried the pretty half-caste, waking out of her trance. "Right against my stomach!"

They laughed and laughed. The table turned round fiercely and they rose from their chairs, with their hands on the table, and accompanied its angry, waltzing movements.

"Next ... year ..." the table rapped out.

Eldersma wrote it down.

"Frightful ... war."

"Between whom?"

"Europe ... and ... China."

"It sounds like a fairy-tale!" grinned the doctor.

"La-bu-w.a.n.gi," tapped the table.

"What about it?" they asked.

"Is ... a ... beastly ... hole...."

"Say something serious, table, do!" Mrs. Rantzow implored, pleasantly, in her best German-matron manner.

"Dan ... ger," the table tapped out.

"Where?"

"Threat ... ens," the table continued, "La-bu-w.a.n.gi."

"Danger threatens Labuw.a.n.gi?"

"Yes!" said the table, with one tap, angrily.

"What danger?"

"Rebellion."