“Sir, I must give you some religious instruction. When one dies and has led an honourable life, one assumes a glorified body and one associates with the angels. I am now in exactly the same body as in life, and I am in a very dull, drab place. Such companions as I have are not such as I have been accustomed to associate with in life, and certainly no one could describe them as angels. Therefore your absurd conjecture may be dismissed.” “Do not continue to deceive yourself. We wish to help you. You can never progress until you realise your position.” “Really you try my patience too far. Have I not said----?” The medium fell back among the cushions. An instant later the Chinese control, with his whimsical smile and his hands tucked away in his sleeves, was talking to the circle. “He good man--fool man--learn sense soon. Bring him again. Not waste more time. Oh, my God! My God! Help! Mercy! Help!” He had fallen full length upon the sofa, face upwards, and his cries were so terrible that the little audience all sprang to their feet. “A saw! A saw! Fetch a saw!” yelled the medium. His voice sank into a moan. Even Mailey was agitated. The rest were horrified. “Someone has obsessed him. I can’t understand it. It may be some strong evil entity.” “Shall I speak to him?” asked Mason. “Wait a moment! Let it develop. We shall soon see.” The medium writhed in agony. “Oh, my God! Why don’t you fetch a saw!” he cried. “It’s here across my breast-bone. It is cracking! I feel it! Hawkin! Hawkin! Pull me from under! Hawkin! Push up the beam! No, no, that’s worse! And it’s on fire! Oh, horrible! Horrible!” His cries were blood-curdling. They were all chilled with horror. Then in an instant the Chinaman was blinking at them with his slanting eyes. “What you think of that, Mister Mailey?” “It was terrible, Chang. What was it?” “It was for him,” nodding towards Malone. “He want newspaper story, I give him newspaper story. He will understand. No time ’splain now. Too many waiting. Sailor man come next. Here he comes!” The Chinaman was gone, and a jovial, puzzled grin passed over the face of the medium. He scratched his head. “Well, damn me,” said he. “I never thought I would take orders from a Chink, but he says ‘hist!’ and by crums you’ve got to hist and no back talk either. Well, here I am. What did you want?” “We wanted nothing.” “Well, the Chink seemed to think you did, for he slung me in here.” “It was you that wanted something. You wanted knowledge.” “Well, I’ve lost my bearings, that’s true. I know I am dead ’cause I’ve seen the gunnery lootenant, and he was blown to bits before my eyes. If he’s dead I’m dead and all the rest of us, for we are over to the last man. But we’ve got the laugh on our sky-pilot, for he’s as puzzled as the rest of us. Damned poor pilot, I call him. We’re all taking our own sounding now.” “What was your ship?” “The _Monmouth._” “She that went down in battle with the German?”