evening while she was playing Cleopatra in a theatrical production..."
"I am familiar with many vaudeville players, sir. Just give me her name and we will trouble you no more!" said Wesley.
"Oh, I am afraid it was more... of a gentleman's interpretation of Cleopatra..." he said with a meaningful glance at Clara, "than anything you would find in vaudeville."
"At the burlesque house, you mean?" Clara stated, challenging him to dismiss such squeamishness in her presence.
"Yes, indeed, the burlesque houses," Phineas said, apologizing. "You see, with my condition, I find myself the victim of frequent spells of loneliness..."
"Say no more," said Clara, seeing the direction the conversation was headed. "How a gentleman cares to spend his leisure time is not our place to investigate or scrutinize. We are concerned merely with the retrieval of the urn—"
"But what makes it so special?" Phineas interrupted.
Now it was Clara's turn to be uncomfortable. "There are certain properties to it that have proven to be slightly... deadly."
Phineas leaned forward in concern. "Is it something inside? A poison?"
"Oh, it is something inside, but not exactly... poison." She found herself unable to complete the thought and turned to Wesley for help.
He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "Now, Mr. Stokeman, I am sure that what I am about to tell you will seem strange, but I swear upon all that is holy what I say is true. We believe there is a curse upon that urn, and that the unfriendly spirit inside requires to be set to rest."
Phineas started laughing. "You are quite mad!"
"I promise you that I am speaking in all earnestness. I am a medium, brought to the manor of Lord Oroberg on that unfortunate night to communicate with those beyond the grave, and we discovered a spirit most foul who was responsible for all the death which took place."
"We are willing to compensate you," said Clara, urgently. "I realize this must seem unbelievable, but you have no idea the urgency of this matter."
Phineas stood, indicating that their discussion was over. "Well, I must wish you well in your search, but I am afraid that I am unable to aid you. It is gone, and no Egyptian mummy curse can possibly equal the wrath of my fair Pauline if I should ask for it back. Between you and me, I would rather face a dozen curses than her temper. So, if you will excuse me now, I am afraid I must rest. As pleasant as this has been, my constitution is not yet strong enough for such friendly stimulation."
"Of course," said Wesley rising. "We understand completely. If you change your mind, please do not hesitate to contact us."
Phineas looked down at the calling card Clara had passed along when the two had first arrived. "A medium, did you say?"
"Indeed," replied Wesley. "And one of the best."
A strange shadow passed over Phineas’ face, but it was gone as soon as it was there. "Perhaps we shall be meeting sooner than you think. I thank you for your trouble coming by and I am sorry I was not of greater assistance."
"We apologize for troubling you," said Clara, "but will look forward to speaking with you soon."
And with that, the butler was opening the door and ushering them out of the room and out of the front door and onto the porch with such swiftness, it might have seemed rude except for the lack of malice.
"What a strange man," Clara said, looking at the house. "There is something about this place I find highly unsettling."
"I do not believe you have to be a medium to feel the wrongness of it all," Wesley confirmed.
Chapter Eleven
T he doorbell rang in the middle of breakfast the next morning. Clara looked at Willard with some surprise.
"Were you expecting someone, ma'am?"
"No, Willard," she replied. "This is most strange."
"I shall see who it is."
She sat nervously, a sense of foreboding washing over her. She heard Wesley's voice and she sprang up from her seat and rushed out into the
"I am familiar with many vaudeville players, sir. Just give me her name and we will trouble you no more!" said Wesley.
"Oh, I am afraid it was more... of a gentleman's interpretation of Cleopatra..." he said with a meaningful glance at Clara, "than anything you would find in vaudeville."
"At the burlesque house, you mean?" Clara stated, challenging him to dismiss such squeamishness in her presence.
"Yes, indeed, the burlesque houses," Phineas said, apologizing. "You see, with my condition, I find myself the victim of frequent spells of loneliness..."
"Say no more," said Clara, seeing the direction the conversation was headed. "How a gentleman cares to spend his leisure time is not our place to investigate or scrutinize. We are concerned merely with the retrieval of the urn—"
"But what makes it so special?" Phineas interrupted.
Now it was Clara's turn to be uncomfortable. "There are certain properties to it that have proven to be slightly... deadly."
Phineas leaned forward in concern. "Is it something inside? A poison?"
"Oh, it is something inside, but not exactly... poison." She found herself unable to complete the thought and turned to Wesley for help.
He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "Now, Mr. Stokeman, I am sure that what I am about to tell you will seem strange, but I swear upon all that is holy what I say is true. We believe there is a curse upon that urn, and that the unfriendly spirit inside requires to be set to rest."
Phineas started laughing. "You are quite mad!"
"I promise you that I am speaking in all earnestness. I am a medium, brought to the manor of Lord Oroberg on that unfortunate night to communicate with those beyond the grave, and we discovered a spirit most foul who was responsible for all the death which took place."
"We are willing to compensate you," said Clara, urgently. "I realize this must seem unbelievable, but you have no idea the urgency of this matter."
Phineas stood, indicating that their discussion was over. "Well, I must wish you well in your search, but I am afraid that I am unable to aid you. It is gone, and no Egyptian mummy curse can possibly equal the wrath of my fair Pauline if I should ask for it back. Between you and me, I would rather face a dozen curses than her temper. So, if you will excuse me now, I am afraid I must rest. As pleasant as this has been, my constitution is not yet strong enough for such friendly stimulation."
"Of course," said Wesley rising. "We understand completely. If you change your mind, please do not hesitate to contact us."
Phineas looked down at the calling card Clara had passed along when the two had first arrived. "A medium, did you say?"
"Indeed," replied Wesley. "And one of the best."
A strange shadow passed over Phineas’ face, but it was gone as soon as it was there. "Perhaps we shall be meeting sooner than you think. I thank you for your trouble coming by and I am sorry I was not of greater assistance."
"We apologize for troubling you," said Clara, "but will look forward to speaking with you soon."
And with that, the butler was opening the door and ushering them out of the room and out of the front door and onto the porch with such swiftness, it might have seemed rude except for the lack of malice.
"What a strange man," Clara said, looking at the house. "There is something about this place I find highly unsettling."
"I do not believe you have to be a medium to feel the wrongness of it all," Wesley confirmed.
Chapter Eleven
T he doorbell rang in the middle of breakfast the next morning. Clara looked at Willard with some surprise.
"Were you expecting someone, ma'am?"
"No, Willard," she replied. "This is most strange."
"I shall see who it is."
She sat nervously, a sense of foreboding washing over her. She heard Wesley's voice and she sprang up from her seat and rushed out into the
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