OUT OF SIGHT.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 10267, 26 January 1895, Page 3

OUT OF SIGHT.

i PSYCHOLOGICAL STORY,

Bl CHABLES BRIGHT.

(AU Rigbta Reserved.)

PART 11.

CHAPTER VI.—WHITEOHAPEL AGAIN.

What is it happens to a human being rrhen he or she falls into that strange state termed trance 1 The trance phenomena are Eatniliar to all who have investigated this branch of psychological science, bnt little iB known as yet respecting the law which governs their manifestation or the processeß fiy which it operates. The first steps towards the formulation of a workable theory on the mbjeot are being taken in various parts of (be world by, the classification ef facts, and i cientific deductions from them will doubtless be drawn when their striking character and frequent occurrence command more serious attention than they have hitherto received. What actually befell the informing spirit of Frederic Bdxton at that midnight hour, .when his material frame lay on the bad bereft" of outward signs of life—whether it was drawn by ■ some peculiar attraction absolutely to the locality of which it now took cognisance,, or by an extension of its visual powers was enabled to behold distant oveuts as though intervening matter and tpace were annihilated—is a question upon Which I care to hazard no opinion. All that needs be said is' that when he returned to consciousness be remembered every incident and scene with a distinctness beyond the potency of the most' vivid dream, and felt as fully assured that he had witnessed actual oc3urreoces as he could by any passage of his ordinary existence. The vision became, in fact, a part of his existence, for he knew that it was his real .self beheld it, and that the stolid form upon the couch was merely that self's outer and coarser covering. So soon as he fell into the trance he found himself once more threading the slums of Whitecbapel, but with an object before him which he was pursuing. It seemed a shadowy form to his spirit sight, yet be knew it was what in this world is termed substance — knew also it was the individual he had tbat morning encountered, who called himself Frank Winchester. Hovering around this form, and seemingly holding it in a hypnotic clutch, was a multitude of dark, ghastly spirits, apparently, to the clairvoyant eye, far more substantial than the human creature they obsessed. Prominent among the crew Buxton distinguished the vengeful, malignant face of Lpmax, the New York poisoner, whose visible mundane career be bad seen out short according to the law's behest. He and those associated with him had been murderers in this life, and they were murderers still, instigating a willing victim to the perpetration of fresh butcheries. Buxton'B spirit nature gasped, as if for breath, as he saw the ishadowy form of, Winchester joined by another shadowy form—that of a woman, and a (few minutes later beheld the spirit effigy writhing out of the female figure, whose mortal lexistenee bad been abruptly terminated by the stroke of murder. The first words that Bniton's lips uttered, when with a shiver as of palsy he regained hie outer consciousness, were, "He—he, then, is Jack the Kipper." ohaftekWil-moloch's study. " Do you know anything of clairvoyance 1" It was Buxto'n who propounded the question, as he and Nolan sat in the latter's "study" on the day following the trance vision. After mature deliberation, Buxton bad resolved upon taking bis old friend into his confidence, with a view of preventing further intimacy between the Warrenheip household and the occupant of the Grange. "Not much," Nolan replied. "Do you think there's any truth in the stories told, about it 7" "I do not think, Jim; lam sure." "Sure of what?" "Sure that some people possess the gift called clairvoyance—that is to say, can see what is invisible to the mass of their fellow creatures." "How can anyone be sure of that Fred, unless he is a clairvoyant himself ?!" :'i " Foseibly you are right, and that is just my reason for professing certainty on tbat fcubject. lam myself a clairvoyant." Had he said that he was a Malay or a kanaka Nolan could.not have looked more astonished. " You a clairvoyant, old fellow," he cried. "What the devil do yon mean 1" "Simply what I say. Here, light your pipe, and then yon can listen without getting too excited. No, thanks, I won't smoke, for I want to do a lot of talking, and what I have to say is of importance to me, and perhaps to yon." When Nolan's lorig Dutch pipe was fairly lighted, and he sat in Ms easy chair by tbe open window, with both his legs stretched on another chair, Buxton continued— " I suppose I may take it for granted, old boy, that you are not a spiritualist ? " "Do 1 look like one," responded Nolan, evidently under the impression that there was something peculiar about the aspect of a spiritualist differentiating him from the rest of mankind. Boxton smiled, and said, " Well, I'm one, anyhow." A little smoke entered Nolan's throat, and made bim cough. Otherwise he took this fresh announcement calmly. " I have good reason for knowing," proceeded Buxton, "tbat the phenomenon, which is called death, is merely a second birth, and that the re-born, although invisible to most people, are visible at timeß to tbe few who possess the gift of clear-seeing. You know that some have gifts of poetry, painting, music, oratery, beyond their fellows, and unless you deny the possibility of existence, outside of tbe range of our ordinary senses, which would be absurd, it should not be inconceivable tbat there may be mortals specially gifted in the direction I j . indicate." '

Nolan nodded, and remarked—

"0, some's smarter than others, of course. When I had that ranch in Utah, there was a Mexican in my employ who cauld see buffaloes on the ranges miles off, and could hear a mob of cattle galloping when I could bear nothing."

" Yes, that's the extension of an ordinary faculty, but what I speak of is the addition of an extraordinary faculty. If yon imagine a race of men having four senses—taste, touch, smelliDg, and hearing, only, and, after untold ages in the process of evolution, a few of them have glimpses of sight, you will then realise better what I conceive this expansion of sense to be. It has manifested itself in rare instances for thousands of years past, is becoming more general, and may be expected to get quite common some thousands of years hence. However that they may be, let me ask you, just for the moment, to believe that I possess this faculty, and then tear my story." " All right, Fred," said Nolan. " I'm sure you believe you possess it, anyway." This was not particularly encouraging, but Buzton was too deeply interested in, at least, awakening Nolan's suspicions regarding Winchester to stop. So he first recounted his experiences at the New York execution, and then told how he had been entranced in Whitechapel after leaving the police station, and had seen the figure of the New York poisoner, accompanied by other evil spirits like himself, superintending the business of murder.

At this point Nolan interposed. He was evidently greatly interested in the narrative, and, without admitting the recounter's claim to superior illumination, wanted to understand exactly the nature of the theory advanced by him.

" Then, Fred, what yon maintain is that we don't get rid of murderers by hanging 'em, as they go on murdering by deputy." " I hold, " said Bnxton, " that life is continuous beyond the metamorphosis we term death, and that individual hate persists and finds means of manifestation in that state the same as individual love. Conditions o£ manifestation are changed—not the individual ; and just as one who is foil of love for others discovers opportunities of benefiting them, and is helped in his work by loving spirits of greater experience and power than himself, so the one filled with hatred and desire of revenge utilises his opportunity too, and has his companionship— like associating with like." "Well, I've never taken much stock in an after life," remarked Nolan, " thinking one world at a time about as much as a man can [airly tackle; but assuming that death opens out. a fresh life, isn't it reasonable to suppose that the good powers there—wherever ; thm' may be—" he added, elßaciet vaguely

out of the window, " would look after the bad ones, and prevent their running arauak in the manner you describe ?" " That's a fair supposition, doubtless, Jim; but from what I have learned, I concdve the whole realm of nature, including that which we have absurdly labelled ' supernatural,' is governed by law, and men, after being born iuto freßh cenditions of being, find their power* limited by them, the same as we do oy the conditions which environ us. You just go into a nest of thieves, gamblers, and drunkard* in this life, and try and make philanthropists of them, and see how you succeed. It is the same in the spheres beyond—an absurd phrase, by the way, bocausß there is no ' beyond ' and no ' here. All creation is perpetual momentum. Love, however, ig a positive forco in the universe, and will, I doubt not, overcome bate, which is a negative force; but it has to advance oy slow gradations. Constant dripping water hollows the hardest rock, bnt it does not look like doirjg it at first. To ratnin to the subject we're on, I contend that human society has to bear its share of blame for the murderer, because much of our social training cultivates, instead of discouraging, the murderous instinct, and that it ought to oonsume its own smoke—that is to say, keep its murderers here under adequatesupervisionand restraint, and strive to develop any good there may be in them before the hour for their natural dealh-ohange strike*. You said just now yon thought one world at a time enough. Wnat U this after-death existence be really a part of our world, though out of night, and affects us whether we know it or not ? I£ that be the case, Is it not better to know it, so that we may shape our actions accordingly 1 All knowledge iB valuable." tfolan had no particular liking for metaphysics, and began to look a trifle weary. Buxton noted the expression, and saw the advisability of quickly coming to the point which had needed so long a preface. ••You have hoard only a portion of my clairvoyant story yet." he said. " The rest has happened within the last 24 hours." Nolan put a. light to hie pipe, which had gone out, and resumed his former attitude of comfortable listening. But neither his smoke nor his comfort lasted long. Boxton's description of bis daylight enconnter with Winchester disturbed him considerably, but when the clairvoyant had given his midnight super-sensual testimony, Nolan sprang to his feet exclaiming— "Whatl Frank Winobestor, that horrid Whitechapel ghoul I Fred, you're mad." "Well, Molocb, old boy, I quite expected you to say that," Buxton rejoined, with admirable patience, "but what about his condition yesterday, and his sudden departure ? Then he has frequent flights like this one, I understand 1" "To my thinking, Fred," Nolan said, "it is your seeing him in that queer state yesterday—drunk, it may be—that has linksd him on to your dreadful visions. You don't know Frank Winchester, or you never could harbour such a hideous idea. Why, he's one of the best-hearted fellows under the sun, never so happy as when he can do a geod turn to a sick person or help nurse a restless child. Lord bless you 1 One night, when Polly was ill, .he rode through a thunderstorm to Appleby to get her medicine, and came back wet through to the skin. Murderers are not made of stuff like that." "Ab, Jim," Buxton replied, " human nature cannot be divided into good and bad specimens with the exactitude you seem to suppose. The same man will at one time do what appears a wonderfully good thing, and at another a wonderfully evil one—a cravisg for'excitement being perhaps the underlying motive in each case. If a man makes no effort to control bis passions he may be influenced to do anything. Remember yon have known Winchester only four months— cannot be certain if that is even his right name. Hake as light as you choose of my visions; surely you mu6t see that some careful investigation is required before yon confide to his keeping the happiness of your daughter." "That's true, Fred, any way," and Nolan looked sorely troubled for a season. Then he broke out— "IE you imagine you know more about that Whitechapel fiend than other people oughtn't you to tell the police 7" Buxton smiled as he answered, " It's over 35 years since we first knew each other, Molocb, yet you told me I was mad when I divulged this matter to you. What do you think an officer, of police, a perfect stranger to me, would say ? " • V Ay,-that's,, true enough. He'd most likely lock yon up as a lunatic, and, by Jove, Fred, I'm not sure he wouldn't be doing right." He laughed heartily, and Buxton did the same, and both of them felt the better for their outburst of mirth. "What's best to be done, Fred?" Nolan queried. "I can't go to Frank Winchester and tell. him of this awful suspicion of; yours." ' " Leave him to me, Jim. Bat what time do you receive the London papers 7 " Nolan glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and said: "They ought to be here now. Do you want them 1" " Yes, please." Nolan rang the bell, and then stepped to the door and called to a servant who was coming upßtairs to bring the papers. As soon as they were brought Buxton opened one of them, and remarking, " Ah, I k;:> w it," pointed with Ms finger to the heavy headline at the top of a column— " ANOTHER BRUTAL MURDBB IN WHITECHAPEL."