The Ghost Makers

Chapter IV — Little Flowers Speaks Again

Saturday found Detective Joe Cardona in Philadelphia. The taciturn sleuth had said nothing about his trip from New York. Since the morning that he had received the bouquet of violets, Cardona had preserved an air of aloofness.

The name, "Anita Marie," had puzzled Cardona. When he reached Philadelphia, the detective knew nothing of its significance. He realized that he might be on a wild-goose chase; that the violets might have been the prank of a practical joker.

Nevertheless, a ninety-mile trip from Manhattan was nothing if the journey might lead to a clue concerning the now famous ghost murder in the Hotel Dalban.

In Philadelphia, Cardona knew that his position as a New York detective would enable him to secure the cooperation of the local authorities. But he did not wish to take this step unless absolutely necessary. Hence, he scanned the Philadelphia newspapers as he sat in his hotel room, seeking any item that might include the name of Anita Marie.

Obviously, Anita Marie might be a woman's name. But the name was incomplete.

Therefore, it could be the name of a shop, a tea, room— or even a ship in the port of Philadelphia. But the advertisements and news notes that Cardona read gave no clue in this direction.

The detective's mind went back to the first impression — that Anita Marie must be a woman. He suddenly decided that the name might be complete, after all.

He picked up the telephone book in the hotel room, and ran through its pages to the letter M. There he found the name "Marie" — followed by the first name, "Anita." Cardona was forced to smile at his stupidity. Anita Marie was the complete name after all. He noted the address, and the telephone number. It was evidently a residence in West Philadelphia. Cardona left the hotel, and rode westward in the subway. He reached his destination, and strolled down the street opposite the spot where the house was located.

There, on a small sign, he read:

Anita Marie was a spirit medium! Not only that, but she was using the same title that Professor Raoul Jacques had employed with his group of believers in New York.

Reaching the corner, Cardona drew a tabloid newspaper from his pocket. He had looked through the personal columns before, but he had not noticed anything of special interest, although he remembered that the word psychic had appeared there.

He discovered it again — in two or three announcements. One stated as follows: Psychic meeting to-night. Friendly visitors welcome. Eight o'clock.

Beneath the notice appeared the address of Anita Marie.

It was already late in the afternoon. Cardona decided to wait until eight o'clock. He found a restaurant in the vicinity and dined there. He was sure, now, that his mysterious tip-off had come from The Shadow. During his investigation of the Harvey murder, Cardona had realized that events in one seance room might have a possible connection with those in others. But the job of watching every medium in Manhattan and environs had seemed a ridiculous plan.

Cardona, in all his work, played for breaks that would lead him somewhere. He had found one now, and it was worth following.

Shortly before eight o'clock, he arrived at the home of Anita Marie. Cardona was astounded when he saw the rows of automobiles gathered on both sides of the street.

Evidently this medium did a rushing business at her Saturday-night seances. Cardona was impressed, in spite of himself.

He went up the steps of the house and rang the bell. The door was opened by a sharp-featured maid. Cardona, hat in hand, inquired if the seance had begun. The maid's reply was in the negative. She stepped aside, and the detective entered. The maid took his hat and ushered him into a large room. Some forty persons were seated in chairs around the walls.

Cardona took a vacant seat, and quietly eyed the other visitors. Most of them appeared to be persons of some intelligence. While he was studying his companions, Cardona noticed them glancing toward the end of the room. Staring in that direction, the detective viewed a woman who had just entered. She was the medium — Anita Marie. A tall woman, past middle age, and inclined to stoutness, she had an appearance of impressive dignity. But there was a defiant attitude in her bearing, and her eyes threw a sweeping challenge as they glanced about the room.

She had the manner of a school mistress looking warningly toward misbehaving pupils. Satisfied with her inspection of the assemblage, the medium took her seat behind a table. In a harsh, rasping voice, she informed the newcomers that it was customary for visitors to the circle to make a deposit of one dollar before the seance began.

This, she explained, was not a matter of profit. It was for the protection of the clients themselves, as the fee assured them that undesirable persons would not be present to disturb the meeting. The explanation seemed thin to Cardona. By his estimate, there were more than forty persons present, which meant a good evening's business for the medium.

The detective joined the group of persons who approached the table to place their money. He nudged elbows with another man as he did so. Turning, Cardona found himself staring into a pair of piercing eyes.

The appearance of the stranger whom he had thus encountered made a distinct impression upon Cardona. The keen, hawkish visage of the man — his cold, evenly molded features produced an immediate reaction in the detective's mind.

He was sure that he had never seen the man before, yet there was a haunting glint to those sparkling eyes that seemed vaguely familiar. A moment later, the man was gone, back to an obscure corner of the room.

When all were seated, the seance began. The medium opened with a jargon of talk that eventually formed itself into a message for some one.

A man stated that he recognized initials which Anita Marie was giving, and the medium concentrated her speech upon him. So long as the man agreed with facts she told him, Anita Marie spoke with assurance. When he mildly informed her that some of her statements were incorrect, she adopted a browbeating attitude.

"The spirits do not lie!" she cried. "Don't try to argue with me. I am right and you are wrong! You are trying to disturb the messages."

With that, she indignantly broke into a new line of chatter that wound up with a message for a more susceptible person. A young girl answered all of the medium's questionings in a breathless tone. Pumping her for information, Anita Marie managed to deliver some facts that seemed startling to the girl who received them. A buzz of approval rose from the faithful present.

To Cardona, it was a mass of drivel. He wondered what any one could see in this pure bunkum, and he shook his head as he eyed the faces of eager persons who seemed to admire the medium's self-proclaimed talent.

He caught a glimpse of the solemn-faced man in the corner. He noticed that the stern visage was immobile.

An hour passed, and the dull proceedings continued. The medium was working on the faithful — old customers whom she had impressed before. Her overruling tactics beat down the mild objections that arose occasionally.

Cardona was becoming weary. This affair promised none of the spectacular proceedings that had occurred in the strange seance held by Professor Jacques, in New York.

But then, Cardona remembered, the professor had charged fifteen dollars to each entrant in his circle. He was a worker of a more cunning sort, Cardona decided.

It was after nine o'clock when the seance began to take on a more lively aspect. Anita Marie was holding discussion with a middle-aged lady whose attire marked her as a wealthy woman. From the medium's coaxing, honeyed tones, it was evident that this woman was a frequent visitor to the psychic circle.

"Yes, yes!" she was agreeing to every statement that Anita Marie uttered. "This is wonderful! Please tell me more!"

Now the medium gazed triumphantly around the circle, with a look that was intended to wither skeptics who were present. Seeing that the majority of the persons were believers, Anita Marie decided to press her advantage.

"I'm agoin' to put myself under the control of a spirit," she asserted, in rapid, slurred tones. "With so many good people here to-night, I have been doin' my best for all. But this lady, here, is anxious for more advice. She has troubles, this lady has. I can see it. That's right, lady, isn't it?" The woman nodded.

"You see?" said the medium, turning her head. "The spirits are tellin' me that, because they know this lady wants to know. So I'm agoin' to help this lady. I can see that her troubles are in this world, not in the spirit plane. That's right, lady, isn't it?"

Another nod from the lady was the response.

"Have you been here before, lady?"

The woman nodded.

"Did I ever ask you your name, lady?"

"No," was the reply.

"Did anybody tell you to come here to-night?"

"No."

"You see, I don't know you, then. But I can hear the spirits atellin' me. They say the name Maude."

"That is my name!" exclaimed the woman.

"That's all they are asayin' to me," resumed Anita Marie glibly, "but when I go into a trance, they can talk to me better. Would some of you gentlemen kindly oblige by turning out the lights at the side of the room? There. That's good!"

The room was in semidarkness, but the medium was visible in the gloom. She began to roll her head and make grimaces to indicate a spirit control.

Her voice muttered incoherently. It took on a high unnatural pitch that was startling at first to Cardona. The raspy voice became squeaky.

"Hello, good people!" came a falsetto tone. "Good, good people to be here to-night. Good people. Good lady to want to hear what Little Flower say. You listen, good lady. Little Flower speak. She tell what she hear, Little Flower do!"

Joe Cardona had not learned, in his investigation of the Harvey murder, that a spirit called Little Flower had been presumably speaking through the lips of Professor Raoul Jacques.

The name that came gurgling from the throat of Anita Marie formed no connecting link to the New York seance in the detective's mind.

But the name of Little Flower brought another thought to Cardona's brain. The strange disk that had started him to Philadelphia had come to him in a bunch of violets.

The reason was plain now. Little Flower! A violet was a little flower!

Eagerly, the detective listened. The medium was babbling on once more.

"Little Flower," came the shrill voice. "Little Flower tell the lady what the lady want to know. She see lady want to know what she to do with money. Big, wise man spirit, he tell Little Flower what to say to lady. He say he know lady back on earth. He say lady's name. Little Flower listen—" A pause followed. There was a tenseness in the room. The woman who was expecting the message was seated not far from Cardona, and the detective could see her pale face.

Cardona glanced toward the corner, also; but the man with the hawklike face was invisible in the gloom.

"Man spirit, he tell Little Flower," came the voice from the medium. "He say he speak to lady who he call Maude Gar—"

"Yes, yes," whispered the woman breathlessly.

"He say another name," resumed the voice of Little Flower. "It is like Gar — something.

Little Flower listen. Yes, Little Flower hear it. She hear the name — Garwood."

"That is right'" exclaimed the woman, in an impressed tone. "That is right!" The medium writhed for a moment, then quieted, and let her head fall back in her chair.

"Man spirit tell Little Flower he know what trouble lady," the falsetto voice went on. "He say lady wonder what she do with money. He say lady must be wise. He say lady put money in good stock."

"Ask him what stock!" exclaimed the woman. "He knows. He knows—"

"Man spirit he say funny words," continued Little Flower. "He say word like Coro. It is long word. It is Coro-nad-o. He say another word, too. Little Flower hear him say tell lady Cop — Cop-per. He say two words go together."

"Coronado Copper!" the woman exclaimed.

"That is what the man spirit say," resumed the falsetto voice. "He say tell good lady Maude. He say tell good people—"

The babble ended suddenly. Another sound had entered the room. From somewhere in the circle came the rising tone of a shuddering, mystic laugh!

Its wild, heart-rending echoes swept through the room and seemed to thrum with a loud, pulsating beat. Then, like a departing wind, it whispered away into an unfathomable distance. Startled gasps were coming from the sitters. White faces were peering at one another. Even Joe Cardona was dumfounded.

Silence followed that dreadful laugh. Then, at length, the medium spoke, in her own voice.

"Turn on those lights," she ordered.

With the room illuminated, Anita Marie sought to regain her composure. She succeeded. Sitting up in her chair, she glared about, seeking the author of the weird disturbance.

"Someone here is atryin' to make trouble," she rasped. "I'm awarnin' them. I won't stand for nothing like that!"

Cardona was looking toward the corner. He saw the firm-faced man with the hawkish countenance. That visage was inscrutable.

Looking toward the medium, Cardona saw her meet the gaze of the man's unyielding eyes. Anita Marie seemed to tremble. With an effort, she resumed her challenging attitude.

"I'm agoin' on with this," she declared, "and I'm agoin' to call an officer of the law if there's any more trouble. You people are here in my home. I've got my rights, I have!" The side lights were extinguished. The medium gurgled. Again she spoke in the voice of Little Flower.

"Man spirit, he say lady name Maude do as he tell," came the falsetto. "He say she be glad. He say lady must come see man from India. Man from India is medium. He tell lady—" In cut the mocking laughter. It sounded high above the blabbing voice of Little Flower. It was short — bursting forth with uncanny suddenness; consternation reigned.

Cardona, rising from his chair, edged toward the door of the gloomy room. He saw other people standing up. He heard a call for lights. The switch was turned.

The medium, pale and thoroughly frightened, was clutching the arms of her chair, staring wildly about the seance room.

Men and women were clustered near the door, where they had sprung spontaneously to escape that terrible sound which had seemed to come from all about them.

Cardona knew that the seance was ended for the night. This terrified group could stand no more. The medium was completely bewildered. She could not imagine whom to blame for the disturbance. Cardona, too, was bewildered; but for a different reason.

He knew who was responsible for the startling outburst. He was looking toward the corner of the room, and from that point he was scanning every spot. It was this search that astounded him. The hawk-faced man was no longer in the seance room! Swiftly, silently, he had departed. The Shadow had gone — laughing!