Unseemly Pursuits

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Her companion caught her and eased her on to the platform. Several men nearby, including the newspaper reporter, hopped up on the stage to help.

Soon Madame was revived, although neither she nor her companion gave any explanation of her strange behavior. She leaned heavily on his arm as they left by way of the back curtain of the temporary stage. The room burst into a flurry of chatter.

“Well, that was certainly dramatic,” Dean Pierce observed wryly. He stifled a yawn. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I must say goodnight.” He wheeled himself out.

As it was close to bedtime curfew, also known as the “ten o’clock rule,” the faculty began shooing students back to their cottages and the crowd dispersed. Concordia looked around the room for her mother, but didn’t see her. What on earth had brought her here, Concordia wondered.

Miss Phillips, clutching her handkerchief with a trembling hand, made for the door, hesitated, locked eyes with Concordia, and approached.

“How did she know?” she demanded, eyes snapping in accusation.

“I did not tell anyone,” Concordia said quietly.

Gertrude Pomeroy, standing at her elbow, looked confused. Dorothy Phillips gave her a quick glance. “Does she know?”

“Of course not,” Concordia retorted, “but I think she should. Miss Pomeroy was the first to notice that all is not as it seems with Madame Durand.”

Miss Pomeroy’s eyes widened in comprehension. “Ah. You did lose something, Miss Phillips.”

Dorothy Phillips looked around the nearly empty room and drew them over to a quiet corner beside the stage. “It is the heart amulet relic, Miss Pomeroy. It disappeared a few days ago, just after the ceremony to open the Gallery. Miss Wells and I searched the exhibit hall. It looks as if it was stolen.”

“But who would steal it?” Miss Pomeroy asked.

“It may have not been stolen in the conventional sense.” Miss Phillips quickly explained her theory that Colonel Adams may have surreptitiously taken it back, not intending to donate the piece in the first place.

Concordia raised an eyebrow. “You have not asked him about it yet?”

Miss Phillips sighed. “How does one ask a man if he took back something he had given away? And asking him would make the absence public; if he doesn’t have it, I could be in trouble. I must confess I have avoided going to see him.”

“You won’t be able to put it off much longer,” Concordia pointed out. “Someone will be bound to notice.”

Miss Phillips nodded in dejection. She looked at Miss Pomeroy. “You won’t say anything to anyone about it, will you?”

Miss Pomeroy nodded in sympathy. “Certainly not, unless you give me leave to do so. But how did Madame Durand know?”

“Perhaps it’s just a coincidence,” Concordia said. “After all, nearly everyone loses something at one time or other. The medium could have simply been guessing something quite common, hoping to get lucky.”

“There’s more to it than that,” a voice chimed in.

They turned around to see the newspaper reporter nearly at her elbow. Concordia wondered how much of the conversation he had overheard.

The man gave a little bow. “Benjamin Rosen, at your service, ladies.”

Miss Pomeroy, as senior faculty, completed the introductions of their group. “What did you mean, ‘There’s more to it’?” she asked.

The burly man ran a thumb along his mustache as he weighed his answer. “I’ll tell you, if you can keep a secret for me.”

Miss Phillips stiffened. “I suppose that depends upon the secret. We don’t want to be involved in anything illegal.”

“Not at all,” he assured them. “I’m trying to scoop another reporter who’s also investigating spirit mediums and their tricks. I’ve already learned a lot, but Madame Durand is the most skilled one I’ve seen. I haven’t been able to catch her out—yet. If she knows what I have in mind, though, I’m out of luck. That’s why I’ve been covering several of the college events; to get a chance to see Madame at work. She certainly won’t let a reporter attend one of her ‘private’ séances.”

“So you don’t believe in the spirit world?” Concordia asked.

Rosen gave a snort of derision. “Hardly.”

“We’ll keep your secret, Mr. Rosen. We’re curious about Madame as well,” Miss Pomeroy said. “Do you know how she did the trick tonight?”

Rosen nodded, stowed his pencil in the brim of his bowler hat, and plunked the hat atop his wavy gray hair. “I know how this sort of trick generally works. The medium and her partner work out a set of signals ahead of time, to indicate the person or item in question. A scratch of the chin, a tugging of the ear, and so on.”

“I didn’t notice anything,” Concordia protested.

“Madame is very good at what she does. I noticed a throat-clearing early on—that could be one of the signals. The cues can be subtly verbal, with the partner starting a sentence with a certain word or phrase. If her confederate was spying on the ladies who contributed to the basket in the foyer, they could have worked out between them ahead of time whom to select.”

“What about the pronouncements she made?” Miss Phillips asked.

“Some of that, as Miss Wells surmised, is guessing at generalities,” Rosen said, “or she could have heard rumors of crushes, pranks, little incidents on campus. I don’t doubt she did her homework before tonight.”

“Amazing. Thank you, Mr. Rosen,” Miss Pomeroy said. “This has been most instructive.”

The man tipped his hat, and then put a finger to his lips. “But remember, not a word.”

When the reporter had left, Concordia returned to the earlier issue of the missing amulet.

“What are you going to do?” she asked Dorothy Phillips.

The history professor squared her shoulders. “I suppose I must contact the Colonel now, and then, if that doesn’t work, the administration—which means the lady principal.”

With that, she said good night, and left.

“I hope Colonel Adams has it,” Concordia murmured. She wouldn’t wish the Ogre’s wrath on anyone. She shivered, and not just from the draft that quivered the curtain nearby. Students were always careless about the doors.

Miss Pomeroy looked around the nearly-empty room. “Oh, dear, I’ve missed Dean Pierce. Perhaps that’s just as well.” She sighed. “What do you think, Miss Wells? Should I talk to the dean or President Langdon about Madame Durand? Based upon Mr. Rosen’s information, they should be warned. Although we did promise Mr. Rosen we wouldn’t say anything about him.”

Concordia hesitated. Most of the administration considered Miss Pomeroy “flighty.” Those new to the school regarded her with condescension, while the ones familiar with Miss Pomeroy’s ways looked upon her with tolerance and good humor. Only a few of the teachers, really, understood how brilliant the lady actually was. Concordia doubted that Gertrude Pomeroy would be taken seriously by those in charge. Especially if they couldn’t bring the newspaper reporter into it to verify their assertions.

“Let us wait a while,” she said. “But she bears watching, nonetheless.”