It was half past three, and Diogenes was in the library and waiting at the appointed hour, when Constance appeared. She was, as usual, wearing another Victorian dress. “You need a new wardrobe,” he said. “Would you like to go shopping tomorrow? Key West has some lovely stores.”
“Yes,” she said.
“And now, a special present for you, my dearest. I was waiting for the right moment. I believe it has now come.”
He walked over to the wall of bookshelves, grasped a small brass handle, and gave it a tug. A set of shelves swung out to reveal a secret room behind.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Diogenes took a step inside and hit the light switch. It revealed a most unusual room, with a table in the middle, some strange old portraits on the walls, many multi-branched sconces holding candles, a tiny fireplace, and a very large and curious wooden case along one wall, with a silk curtain as a front.
“This is my special surprise for you. In this room you will find all the accoutrements of Victorian spiritualism, including a knocking or ‘turning’ table, Ouija board, candles, tambourine, bells, and a cage with an accordion in it that can be played remotely. There are poles, levers, wires, hooks, and funnels. That large case is what is known as a spirit cabinet. In short, this room contains everything necessary for holding a genuine Victorian séance, including all the devices used in tricks and frauds. Of course, you don’t need tricks and frauds if you indeed make contact with the spirit world.”
Constance went over to the collection. Diogenes was relieved and satisfied to see that she appeared completely entranced. He was pleased at himself for thinking of something she would love to have, but would never have thought of on her own.
“I might just add that this entire setup belonged to a famous British medium known as Estelle Roberts. Five days after Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s death, in 1930, in front of a massive crowd in the Royal Albert Hall, Roberts contacted Doyle’s spirit — or so she claimed. No one of course has ever been able to refute, or confirm, this or any of her other séances.”
“How did you acquire it?”
“When she died in 1970, her house in Monken Hadley was shut up and fell into disrepair. I’ve always had an interest in these things; as you undoubtedly know, magic and prestidigitation is a Pendergast family interest going back generations. Six months ago, the old house came on the market; I realized this might be something that would amuse you, so I bought the house, had all the accoutrements of the séance room removed and carefully restored — and brought here. I then sold the old house at a profit — London real estate is such a good investment these days.”
He watched with delight as she explored the spirit cabinet, drawing back the curtain and looking at the strange devices within. She examined the turning table, peering underneath and poking around at its complex curves, corners, and carved decorations.
“I thought you might cherish this little collection,” said Diogenes, softly. “In fact, I knew it. I know that your long life, and the way your family was taken from you at a young age, has made the past very dear to you. That’s why I created this space: as a memorial to the past. With any luck, your past. When you feel ready, we shall have a séance. Perhaps, in time, you will be able to communicate with your sister, Mary. Or your parents.”
A great stillness came over Constance as he spoke, and Diogenes realized he might have stepped over a line. This was a very private aspect of her life, and this construction of his might seem like presumption.
She rose rather stiffly, staggered a moment, then began walking toward the bookcase door. As she passed by him, he was shocked at the deeply troubled expression on her face.
But then, just inside the door, she halted abruptly. For what seemed a long time, she remained still, her back to him. And then she turned around. Her face, her entire being, radiated exceedingly strong and conflicting emotions: of boldness and dread, determination and hesitation.
“What… what is it?” he stammered, terrified by the look on her face.
She raised her chin and took a step forward, with an expression of hatred, malice — and triumph.