The Heart Line: A Drama of San FranciscoBurgess, Gelett
General
The Heart Line: A Drama of San Francisco
Burgess, Gelett
Bohemianism -- Fiction; Fortune-tellers -- Fiction; San Francisco (Calif.) -- Fiction
Mr. Perry wriggled out of her grasp. "See here," he cried, "you mind
your own business, will you. You’re a fake! You got no right to make a
fool of me." His voice trembled, his face was a convincing mask of
guilt arraigned.
The medium shook a warning finger at him. "You either acknowledge what
I say is true, or you leave the hall! I can’t go on with you here."
Mr. Spoll came in to stand beside her valiantly; spectators stood up to
watch the drama. Mr. Perry’s eyes were wild, his face distorted;
suddenly he arose and rushed out of the room. Madam Spoll snapped her
fingers two or three times, shook herself and went back to the platform.
The murmurs died down and the séance was resumed.
Madam Spoll waited a while in silence, then she picked up a gold watch
with a seal fob from the table. "I’m glad to feel a more peaceful
influence," she said. "I’m directed toward this watch. I don’t know who
brought it up, for I was out of the room at the time, but I get the name
’Oliver.’" She looked up expectantly.
A gentleman arose from an end seat in the third row. He had a high
domed head, partly bald, and a gray chin-beard with a shaven upper lip;
under shaggy overhanging eyebrows, cold gray eyes looked through a pair
of gold-rimmed spectacles. His air was benevolently judicial and
bespoke culture and ease. He had, moreover, a well-marked presence, as
of one used to being considered influential and prominent. A row of
false teeth glittered when he opened his mouth.
"That’s my name," he acknowledged in a deep, fluent voice that was heard
all over the room, "and that is my watch."
Madam Spoll fixed him in the eye. "I’d like to know if I can’t get your
other name. My guides are very strong to-night." After a few moments
of self-absorption, she smiled sweetly upon him. "I think I can get it
clairaudiently. Would it be Pearson?"
"No, but that’s pretty near it, though."
"It sounds like Pearson to me, Pearson. Payson, oh, yes, it’s Payson,
isn’t it?"
"That’s right," he said, and sat down.
"Did I ever see you before?"
"Not to my knowledge, Madam."
She looked triumphantly at her audience and smiled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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