It was all very flat and uninteresting, and Dermot had heard it often before. Everyone was happy, very happy.
Messages were given from vaguely described relatives, the description being so loosely worded as to fit almost any contingency.
An elderly lady, the mother of someone present, held the floor for some time, imparting copybook maxims with an air of refreshing novelty hardly borne out by her subject matter."Someone else want to get through now," announced Shiromako. "Got a very important message for one of the gentlemen."There was a pause, and then a new voice spoke, prefacing its remarks with an evil demoniacal chuckle."Ha, ha!
Ha, ha, ha!
Better not go home.
Take my advice."
"Who are you speaking to?" asked Trent.
"One of you three.
I shouldn't go home if I were him.
Danger!
Blood!
Not very much blood - quite enough.
No, don't go home." The voice grew fainter.
"Don't go home!"It died away completely.
Dermot felt his blood tingling.
He was convinced that the warning was meant for him.
Somehow or other, there was danger abroad tonight.
There was a sigh from the medium, and then a groan.
She was coming round.
The lights were turned on, and presently she sat upright, her eyes blinking a little."Go off well, my dear? I hope so."
"Very good indeed, thank you, Mrs Thompson."
"Shiromako, I suppose?"
"Yes, and others."Mrs Thompson yawned."I'm dead beat.
Absolutely down and out.
Does fairly take it out of you. Well, I'm glad it was a success.
I was a bit afraid something disagreeable might happen.
There's a queer feel about this room tonight."She glanced over each ample shoulder in turn, and then shrugged them uncomfortably."I don't like it," she said. "Any sudden deaths among any of you people lately?"
"What do you mean - among us?"
"Near relatives - dear friends?
No?
Well, if I wanted to be melodramatic, I'd say that there was death in the air tonight.
There, it's only my nonsense.
Good-bye, Mrs Trent.
I'm glad you've been satisfied."Mrs Thompson in her magenta velvet gown went out."I hope you've been interested, Sir Alington," murmured Claire."A most interesting evening, my dear lady.
Many thanks for the opportunity.
Let me wish you good night.
You are all going on to a dance, are you not?"
"Won't you come with us?"
"No, no.
I make it a rule to be in bed by half-past eleven.
Good night.
Good night, Mrs Eversleigh.
Ah, Dermot, I rather want to have a word with you.
Can you come with me now?
You can rejoin the others at the Grafton Galleries."
"Certainly, Uncle.
I'll meet you there then, Trent."Very few words were exchanged between uncle and nephew during the short drive to Harley Street.
Sir Alington made a semi-apology for dragging Dermot away, and assured him that he would only detain him a few minutes."Shall I keep the car for you, my boy?" he asked, as they alighted."Oh, don't bother, Uncle. I'll pick up a taxi."
"Very good.
I don't like to keep Charlson up later than I can help.