The Greatest Works of E. F. Benson (Illustrated Edition). E. F. Benson

rather sank: it would be such a pity if Abfou was only talking about the golf club which no doubt was filling Lucia's subconscious as well as conscious mind . . . Then suddenly he got rather alarmed, for Lucia's head was sunk forward, and she breathed with strange rapidity.

      "Lucia!" he said sharply.

      Lucia lifted her head, and Planchette stopped.

      "Dear me, I felt quite dreamy," she said. "Let us go on talking, Georgie. Lady Ambermere this morning: I wish you could have seen her."

      "Planchette has been writing," said Georgie.

      "No!" said Lucia. "Has it? May we look?"

      Georgie lifted the machine. There was no Arabic at all, nor was it Abfou's writing, which in quaint little ways resembled Daisy's when he wrote quickly.

      "Vittoria," he read. "I am Vittoria."

      "Georgie, how silly," said Lucia, "or is it the Queen?"

      "Let's see what she says," said Georgie. "I am Vittoria. I come to Riseholme. For proof, there is a dog and a Vecchia —"

      "That's Italian," said Lucia excitedly. "You see, Vittoria is Italian. Vecchia means — let me see; yes, of course, it means 'old woman'. 'A dog, and an old woman who is angry.' Oh Georgie, you did that! You were thinking about Pug and Lady Ambermere."

      "I swear I wasn't," said Georgie. "It never entered my head. Let's see what else. 'And Vittoria comes to tell you of fire and water, of fire and water. The strong elements that burn and soak. Fire and water and moonlight.' "

      "Oh Georgie, what gibberish," said Lucia. "It's as silly as Abfou. What does it mean? Moonlight! I suppose you would say I pushed and was thinking of the 'Moonlight Sonata'."

      That base thought had occurred to Georgie's mind, but where did fire and water come in? Suddenly a stupendous interpretation struck him.

      "It's most extraordinary!" he said. "We had a Museum Committee meeting just now, and Mrs Boucher said the place was streaming wet. We settled to get some oil-stoves to keep it dry. There's fire and water for you!" Georgie had mentioned this fact about the Museum Committee, but so casually that he had quite forgotten he had done so. Lucia did not remind him of it.

      "Well, I do call that remarkable!" she said. "But I dare say it's only a coincidence."

      "I don't think so at all," said Georgie. "I think it's most curious, for I wasn't thinking about that a bit. What else does it say? 'Vittoria bids you keep love and loyalty alive in your hearts. Vittoria has suffered, and bids you be kind to the suffering.' "

      "That's curious!" said Lucia. "That might apply to Peppino, mightn't it? . . . Oh Georgie, why, of course, that was in both of our minds: we had just been talking about it. I don't say you pushed intentionally, and you mustn't say I did, but that might easily have come from us."

      "I think it's very strange," said Georgie. "And then, what came over you, Lucia? You looked only half-conscious. I believe it was what the planchette directions call light hypnosis."

      "No!" said Lucia. "Light hypnosis, that means half-asleep, doesn't it? I did feel drowsy."

      "It's a condition of trance," said Georgie. "Let's try again."

      Lucia seemed reluctant.

      "I think I won't, Georgie," she said. "It is so strange. I'm not sure that I like it."

      "It can't hurt you if you approach it in the right spirit," said Georgie, quoting from the directions.

      "Not again this evening, Georgie," said she. "Tomorrow perhaps. It is interesting, it is curious, and somehow I don't think Vittoria would hurt us. She seems kind. There's something noble, indeed, about her message."

      "Much nobler than Abfou," said Georgie, "and much more powerful. Why, she came through at once, without pages of scribbles first! I never felt quite certain that Abfou's scribbles were Arabic."

      Lucia gave a little indulgent smile.

      "There didn't seem much evidence for it from what you told me," she said. "All you could be certain of was that they weren't English."

      Georgie left his planchette with Lucia, in case she would consent to sit again tomorrow, and hurried back, it is unnecessary to state, not to his own house, but to Daisy's. Vittoria was worth two of Abfou, he thought . . . that communication about fire and water, that kindness to the suffering, and, hardly less, the keeping of loyalty alive. That made him feel rather guilty, for certainly loyalty to Lucia had flickered somewhat in consequence of her behaviour during the summer.

      He gave a short account of these remarkable proceedings (omitting the loyalty) to Daisy, who took a superior and scornful attitude.

      "Vittoria, indeed!" she said, "and Vecchia. Isn't that Lucia all over, lugging in easy Italian like that? And Pug and the angry old lady. Glorifying herself, I call it. Why, that wasn't even subconscious: her mind was full of it."

      "But how about the fire and water?" asked Georgie. "It does apply to the damp in the Museum and the oil-stoves."

      Daisy knew that her position as priestess of Abfou was tottering. It was true that she had not celebrated the mysteries of late, for Riseholme (and she) had got rather tired of Abfou, but it was gall and wormwood to think that Lucia should steal (steal was the word) her invention and bring it out under the patronage of Vittoria as something quite new.

      "A pure fluke," said Daisy. "If she'd written mutton and music, you would have found some interpretation for it. Such far-fetched nonsense!"

      Georgie was getting rather heated. He remembered how when Abfou had written "death" it was held to apply to the mulberry tree which Daisy believed she had killed by amateur root-pruning, so if it came to talking about far-fetched nonsense, he could have something to say. Besides, the mulberry tree hadn't died at all, so that if Abfou meant that he was wrong. But there was no good in indulging in recriminations with Daisy, not only for the sake of peace and quietness, but because Georgie could guess very well all she was feeling.

      "But she didn't write about mutton and music," he observed, "so we needn't discuss that. Then there was moonlight. I don't know what that means."

      "I should call it moonshine," said Daisy brightly.

      "Well, it wrote moonlight," said Georgie. "Of course there's the 'Moonlight Sonata' which might have been in Lucia's mind, but it's all curious. And I believe Lucia was in a condition of light hypnosis —"

      "Light fiddlesticks!" said Daisy . . . (Why hadn't she thought of going into a condition of light hypnosis when she was Abfouing? So much more impressive!) "We can all shut our eyes and droop our heads."

      "Well, I think it was light hypnosis," said Georgie firmly. "It was very curious to see. I hope she'll consent to sit again. She didn't much want to."

      Daisy profoundly hoped that Lucia would not consent to sit again, for she felt Abfouism slipping out of her fingers. In any case, she would instantly resuscitate Abfou, for Vittoria shouldn't have it all her own way. She got up.

      "Georgie, why shouldn't we see if Abfou has anything to say about it?" she asked. "After all, Abfou told us to make a museum, and that hasn't turned out so badly. Abfou was practical; what he suggested led to something."

      Though the notion that Daisy had thought of the Museum and pushed flitted through George's mind, there was something in what she said, for certainly Abfou had written museum (if it wasn't "mouse") and there was the Museum which had turned out so profitably for the committee.

      "We might try," he said.

      Daisy instantly got out her planchette, which sadly wanted dusting, and it began to move almost as soon as they laid their hands on it: Abfou was in a rather inartistic hurry. And it really wasn't very wise of Daisy to close her eyes and snort: it was indeed light fiddlesticks to do that. It was a sheer unconvincing plagiarism from Lucia, and his distrust of Daisy and of Abfou immeasurably deepened. Furiously the pencil scribbled, going off the paper occasionally and writing on the table till Georgie could insert the paper under it: it was evident that Abfou was