"May I ask," he began in a somewhat heavily-laden voice, after he had
assured himself that the person who was speaking was himself, and his
external attributes unchanged, "May I ask, sir" (and at this title,
which is untranslatable in its many-sided significance when
technically employed, I recognised that all complimentary intercourse
might be regarded as having closed), "whether you accept the
responsibility of these proceedings?"
"Touching the appearance which has so essentially contributed to the
success of the occasion, it is undeniably due to this one's
foresight," I replied modestly.
"Then let me tell you, sir, that I consider it an outrage--a dastardly
outrage."
"Yet," protested this person with retiring assertiveness, "the
expressed object of the ceremony, as it stood before my intelligence,
was for the set purpose of invoking spirits and raising certain
visions."
"Spirits!" exclaimed the one before me with an accent of concentrated
aversion; "yes, spirits; impalpable, civilised, genuine spirits, who
manifest themselves through recognised media, and are conformable to
the usages of the best drawing-room society--yes. But not demons, sir;
not Chinese devils in the Camden Road--no. Truth and Light at any
cost, not paganism. It's perfectly scandalous. Look at the mahogany
table--ruined; look at the wall-paper--conventional mackerels with a
fishing-net background, new this spring--soused; look at the Brussels
carpet, seventeen six by twenty-five--saturated!"
"I quite agree with you, Mr.
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