Sometimes the bedclothes would assume extraordinary shapes; sometimes the articles on his dressing-table; sometimes his clothes; and once, when he was about to put on his bedroom slippers, he found them already occupied--occupied by icy cold feet. Another time, when he put out his hand to take hold of a tumbler, he put it on the back of another hand--smooth, cold and pulpy!
Hardly a night passed without some sort of manifestation happening to one or other of the trio, and even Curtis--fat and stolid Curtis--began to lose flesh and look harassed.
On the eve of the initiation into stage four, the three, separating for the night, retired to their respective quarters in a far from pleasant state of expectation.
Hamar was undressing, when there came a loud ring at the telephone, outside his door.
"Are you Mr. Hamar?" a voice asked, breathlessly.
Hamar replied in the affirmative, and the voice continued--
"I'm Mrs. Anderson-Waite, of 30 Queen's Mansions, Queen's Gate. I have been holding a séance here, with some of my friends, and most extraordinary things have happened, and are still happening. There are violent knockings on the wall and ceiling, and the table has become positively dangerous. It has repeatedly sprung into the air, and savagely assaulted several of the sitters. It has thrown one lady on to the floor, and despite our efforts to prevent it, has rampled on her so viciously that she is badly hurt, and the doctor who has just arrived thinks very seriously of it. We wanted to stop, but some strange power seems to be forcing us to go on. The table has rapped out your name and address, and says it has something important to communicate with you, and that unless you come here at once, it won't answer for the consequences."
"All right!" Hamar said. "I'll come. I'll be with you in less than half an hour."
When Hamar arrived at Queen's Mansions, he found a terrified party of ladies awaiting him in the entrance to the flat.
"Thank goodness, you've come!" they exclaimed, all together. "We've been having an awful time. The table has driven us out of the drawing-room--it is obsessed by a devil."
"Let me have a look at it," Hamar said, "and I'll soon tell you."
The leader of the party, Mrs. Anderson-Waite, very cautiously opened the drawing-room door, and Hamar peered in. In the centre of the room was a large, round, ebony table, that commenced to rock, in the most sinister fashion, the moment Hamar looked at it.