Joan Smith by Valerie

discretion. I cannot begin to describe the sensation. A sort of numbness and tingling invaded my limbs. My mind floated out of my body. Afterward, I was consumed with a strange lethargy, and a great thirst. This is my third glass of sherry.”
    I could not but wonder how many she had had before the reading of the cards, but it would not do to say so. Welland hung on her every silly syllable, asking eagerly how it had happened. She was only too happy to tell him. Incense was a part of it. Madame had burned incense that afternoon for the first time. He had to get a piece to take back to the gatehouse with him.
    My aunt was not hard to convince to try a new site for a séance the next evening. She leapt at the chance, even when it was made clear it was to be Welland’s séance, with Anastasia and his mother being the likely guests, rather than Ahmad and Edward. “But first we shall have one here this evening, in our feather room. So congenial to the spirits. The room must not be disturbed. The vibrations are excellent just now. She will come tonight. I do hope you will join us, Mr. Sinclair?”
    “If you had not asked me, I would have invited myself,” he replied, pink with enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
    Pierre, not to be outdone in enthusiasm, would not miss it for the absolute universal. I was the only one who was to miss it, it seemed.
    “I wonder if the season has anything to do with your entering the trance state,” was Welland’s next piece of nonsense. “It is not the equinox, and it is not the ides of anything. It approaches the summer solstice. We must arrange a sitting for June twenty-first.”
    After a good deal of such chatter, Welland left, and Peter went abovestairs to pester a certain upstairs maid who was not averse to his attentions. I went off to have a look at the feather room. The fact of Madame’s insisting it not be disturbed made me suspicious. A few further chats with Dr. Hill had half convinced me Pierre and Welland were innocent. St. Regis, it seemed, was a man of good character, and as he placed implicit faith in Sinclair, had written an enthusiastic letter of character for him, it was hard to go on imagining him a criminal. As he was engaged to a good fortune, he would not be apt to risk it all by skullduggery. Certain hints dropped by Hill intimated to me that it might be the Franconis who were relieving my aunt of her excess spending money. If she were already buying Pierre’s jewels, and if she had just enough left to live on, and if then the Franconis began raising their prices ...
    It was a possibility at least, and if they were taking money for pulling the wool over her eyes, it might be stopped by exposing them. I noticed the curtains had been closed, and that the exotic aroma of incense was still heavy on the air. Other than that, nothing had changed, including the dark table cover that still held its spilled grease stain. It was difficult to see how they could manage anything very elaborate in this room; anything like an actual appearance of Edward, for example. The space was small, with no large furnishings to hide an accomplice’s body. Edward had not actually materialized, but that must be the lure they were holding out. They could not keep her interest indefinitely with promises. Sooner or later, they must provide her a ghost, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.
    Whatever Dr. Hill may say or think, I knew Aunt Loo was concerned about Edward, and this business of justice that she occasionally mentioned. Right today, after her trance, she had spoken of it again. The power of will, and something about being a deceiver. Yes, of course the Franconis were up to something. And Welland Sinclair was on the very best of terms with at least half the couple. As he was engaged, romance was probably not the Madame’s attraction at all. Business was more like it.
    I was inordinately disappointed to find not a single clue to indicate wrongdoing when I examined the room.