Turney, invited to the second of the s茅ances, again declined the invitation, stating that she really did not think her nerves would stand it. The medium at the second s茅ance said that her 'control' had been out of temper for some time, and probably would give nothing to the sitters that evening. She then fell into a trance, and the sitters waited for an hour and a half, by which time it was discovered that the medium had passed from her trance into natural sleep. She was gently awakened, and everybody went home or to the inn.
There was, however, one interesting and illuminating occurrence which followed the second s茅ance. Mrs. Bradley made a detailed note of it. The entire house had been locked up and the doors sealed, and the windows, except the one in the s茅ance room, had been sealed also, before the sitters took their places. This was an obvious precaution, and caused no surprise to anybody. The s茅ance was held in the drawing-room, and during the period of silence which followed the beginning of the medium's trance, everybody in the circle was not only watching the medium, but (having been informed of the probable nature of any activity which might occur in this particular house) was alert to any noises which might come from other rooms.
No sounds were heard, but before the other visitors and the medium left the drawing-room, Mrs. Bradley made a thorough exploration of the house. On the wall of the bathroom passage was written in pencil the word Bread. The writing was either that of an illiterate, or else it had been done by a normally right-handed person using the left hand (or vice-versa). It had not been there before the s茅ance began, for Mrs. Bradley, who had sealed up the doors and windows, except for the front door, before the other sitters arrived, had also made a careful search and inspection of all walls and passages.
She mentioned her interesting discovery to no one but her son Ferdinand, who, with Caroline, his wife, had come, at her request, for the s茅ance.
"And what do you make of it, Mother?" he enquired, when the circle was broken up and the other guests had gone.
"What do you?" asked Mrs. Bradley.
"That the house must have a secret entrance, I suppose. But, even if it has, why should anyone bother? Or is it in the contract that people who pay to be allowed to hold s茅ances here must get some return for their money?"
Mrs. Bradley put the question to Mrs. Muriel Turney in a letter, but did not reveal the nature of the 'return.' The teacher of music replied on a postcard:
"Lots of people get nothing. My husband and I were both sensitives."
Mrs. Bradley went to see her again, but did not tell her precisely what had happened.
"Will you allow me to borrow your husband's records of the phenomena?" she asked. Muriel agreed to lend the typescript from which Cousin Tom had worked up his reports of the poltergeist.
"I suppose," said Mrs. Bradley casually, before leaving, "Miss Foxley took no particular interest in spiritualism?"
"It frightened her," replied Cousin Muriel, in emphatic re-affirmation of what she had already said upon this subject. "She says that if she ever sees a ghost it will be someone come to fetch her, and it will mean her death. I've tried to tell her that that's a very old-fashioned idea about ghosts, but she clings to it and can't bear the subject mentioned."
"Ah, but you are speaking now of Miss Tessa, not Miss Bella. But it has to be mentioned, surely, when the house is let for these sittings?"
"No. The caretaker always writes to say that it has been 'requisitioned.' That's the word he has to use."
"Interesting," said Mrs. Bradley. She looked thoughtfully at Muriel. "I thought you said you had not visited Miss Tessa since her sister's suicide?"
"Oh, I haven't, no. I did write to say I would attend the funeral if she wished it, but also said it would probably be painful to me to pay my respects, even my last ones, to Bella. Since then I have not been invited, and, of course, as I am only a relative by marriage, I should not dream of visiting her without an invitation, not even to drop in. I think in-laws make mistakes about that kind of thing. After all, they can't expect to be treated quite like the family, can they? Especially when their husband, like poor Tom, isn't there to