The Map of Chaos (Trilogía Victoriana #3)(30)

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THE INSPECTOR TOOK ADVANTAGE of everyone gazing at the screen to examine the other members of the committee once more. He had already checked their backgrounds, since it was common practice for bogus mediums to rely on accomplices during their séances. However, none of them had aroused his suspicions, since most of them had published an article or taken part in a debate that was critical of spiritualism. The various members consisted of Ramsey, a lanky doctor with a horsey face, who was not only a professor at the School of Medicine but also a celebrated surgeon, an eminent chemist, and a brilliant biologist who apparently had a penchant for cracking his knuckles at regular intervals; the burly, dynamic Colonel Garrick, in charge of sanitation at the Ministry of Defense; the discreet engineer, Holland; the frail Professor Burke, who lectured at the School of Law; an aristocrat turned magician who called himself Count Duggan, and whose eccentric presence in the group owed itself to the fact that the main psychic phenomena of the medium world could be reproduced artificially by sleight of hand; and last but not least a scientist with curly whiskers and a bushy beard named William Crookes, awarded a gold medal by the Royal Society in recognition of his numerous and valuable discoveries.

Besides the two inspectors, and one other member of the committee who will be introduced shortly, Crookes was the only one with an open-minded attitude toward spiritualism, although that hadn’t always been the case. The eminent scientist had begun his research into psychic phenomena driven by the moral necessity of exposing the deceit they involved, a gesture that was much lauded by his colleagues, who were keen for someone of his stature to teach the members of that burgeoning sect a lesson. However, after investigating Home, Crookes had not delivered the hoped-for verdict. In an article he wrote for The Quarterly Journal of Science, he had conceded the existence of a new power, to which he had given the pompous name “psychic force.” His conclusions had thrown the scientific establishment into turmoil, condemning Crookes to an icy professional ostracism. Only a few of his closest friends, like Doctor Ramsey, who was also on the committee, had remained loyal to him, although they chose to maintain a reserved silence with regard to his enthusiastic claims. But Crookes had seen Home float his armchair up to the ceiling and trace in the air a little girl’s hand, which then plucked the petals from the flower in his lapel, and so what else could he have said?

However, the most shocking incident was still to come. After his studies of the celebrated Home were published, Crookes received a visit from the no-less-famous Florence Cook, a fifteen-year-old girl of humble origin who had gained considerable prestige as a medium thanks to her ectoplasmic materializations: more precisely, those of a spirit named Katie King, who claimed she was the daughter of the legendary pirate Henry Morgan. For three years, Florence had been summoning Katie in front of numerous witnesses, and, as was frequently the case, the more miraculous a medium’s exploits, the more the shadow of suspicion hung over him or her. Ridding herself of that shadow was what brought Florence to Crookes’s elegant house in Mornington Road to make him the following proposal: if he could demonstrate that her powers were false, he was free to expose her publicly to the press; if on the contrary he proved they were genuine, he would likewise make it public. Crookes accepted the young girl’s challenge and invited her to live with him and his large family for as long as it took to carry out the experiments. It was a bold gesture that had caused a stir, not only among the scientific establishment, but also in society at large, as one can imagine. Crookes spent three months examining Florence in his study and also organized several public séances, to which he invited half a dozen of his fellow scientists. The séances always followed the same course: young Florence, with her hands bound, connected to a galvanometer by a few slender wires, would lie on Crookes’s study floor, her black velvet dress pinned down and her face covered with a shawl so that the light in the room would not distract her. A few moments later she would go into a trance, and to everyone’s amazement a beautiful young girl dressed in white would appear, claiming she was the ghost of Katie King. With a coquettish laugh, Katie would agree to be photographed by Crookes using one of his homemade cameras; she would stroll arm in arm with him, recounting stories of India, where she had lived an earthly life full of adventure; and she would even perch on the laps of the most skeptical gentlemen, mischievously stroking their beards. As there were plenty who claimed that, owing to their striking resemblance and the fact they were never in the same room together at the same time, Katie and Florence were one and the same person, Crookes was obliged to carry out further experiments to establish a series of differences between them. Katie, unlike Florence, did not have pierced ears; she was also taller than Florence, had fairer skin and hair, and there was no small scar on her neck. One day when Florence was suffering from a cold, Crookes had listened to her chest with a stethoscope and discovered she had a wheeze, whereas Katie’s lungs presented no such symptoms to his ears. As if that were not enough, Crookes convinced Katie to remain in the same room as the medium and be photographed beside her, and although he made no attempt to uncover Florence’s face for fear it might bring her out of her trance, it was clear these were two different women.

Crookes’s claims that Florence’s powers were genuine secured the reputation of the young medium, although, unfortunately, the same could not be said of his own. However, this time it was not because the scientist had once more risked his credibility defending the existence of life after death, but rather because in his articles he couldn’t conceal the fact that he had fallen head over heels in love with Katie King, the pirate’s daughter who had been dead for many years. Crookes’s descriptions of her, which Clayton had read with a wry smile, had more in common with the doggerel of a second-rate poet than the dry discourse of a scientist: “The photographs fail to do justice to Katie’s flawless beauty, as words are insufficient to describe her allure. Her enchanting presence makes you want to kneel down and worship her.” It was clear that the brilliant scientist, discoverer of thallium and inventor of the radiometer, had allowed himself to be seduced by the adorable ghost with whom he strolled through his study like lovers in a park. It made him the laughingstock of every salon in London, and his few remaining friends, including Doctor Ramsey, turned their backs on him in shame, weary perhaps of defending the indefensible, or simply afraid society would tar them with the same brush. But during the spring of 1874, Katie had made her final farewells to Florence and Crookes. She had fulfilled her mission, she told them, by proving to the skeptics the existence of the Beyond and was now able to rest in peace. Since then, Crookes had not seen or spoken of Katie again, and time, ever merciful, had finally silenced the mocking voices. Besides scandalizing half of London, it was obvious that the unearthly love affair had left Crookes heartbroken, but at least his prestige as a scientist had survived, and whilst his presence at any function still aroused a few pitying smiles, his discoveries continued to win him the admiration of his colleagues, and it was even rumored he might receive a knighthood in the not-too-distant future. However, it was enough for Clayton to note the intense look of yearning in Crookes’s eyes to realize he still had not forgotten Katie King. The inspector would even have wagered his good hand that, for all Crookes’s claims that his interest in spiritualism was purely scientific, his real aim was to find her again.