This address concluded amid laughter and applause.
The four men drew up to the heavy mahogany table and placed their hands upon its polished top, palms down.
“My friends,” Captain Manse said in a husky whisper, “you will all keep silent, please. You will notice that it looks impossible for any person to move this heavy table by merely placing the hands upon it. No strength can be put into the open palms, it is impracticable to pull or lift or push from the elbows. The legs or feet cannot be brought into use, for they are not allowed to touch the board. And yet the table will move! Silence, gentlemen! If a spirit is present, he will give us a message through the table!”
Several long minutes slowly passed. No sound was audible except the steady, deep breathing of the four men sitting at the table.
As for Vinegar Atts, respiration had ceased some minutes before.
Suddenly, after the long strain of tense silence, Dr. Sentelle, the semi-invalid, took a deep breath--a sigh--and the heavy table rose slowly, teeteringly, under his delicate, fragile, blue-veined hands!
“Ah, some spirit has come at last,” Captain Manse exclaimed in a deep, sepulchral, sing-song undertone.
Again there was total silence, and the strain of waiting, and the sweating palms of the men outspread upon the table; Sheriff Flournoy took a long, deep breath.
Again the table tipped, bumped against the floor, and settled down!
“Dr. Sentelle,” Captain Manse spoke in a tone hushed and full of awe, “the spirit of my long-lost dead poll-parrot will answer any question which you desire to ask!”
He raised his eyes toward the ceiling and in a low, thrilling, beautiful voice, he asked:
“Are you happy, Polly-parrot, since you became a bird of paradise?”
Instantly, the heavy table struck the floor three times--bump! bump! bump! “Y-e-s.”
There was a whoop of laughter and the men sprang to their feet.
“By George!” Gaitskill exclaimed with a chuckle. “If some of the experiences Lem and I had when we were young were wiped out of my memory, I wouldn’t know my soul in eternity.”
“That’s right,” Captain Manse laughed. “I recall one Christmas day when Tom’s niggers were eating in the kitchen, Tom and I went in there and made that table dance all over the place and scared the darkies so they wouldn’t touch a bite of that Christmas dinner. Of course, we had to fake that stunt. In fact, most of this spiritualistic stuff is faked now.”