Hell House by Richard Matheson Page A

disconcerted, but hoped he wouldn't ask her why.
    She stared into the fire. There was something in her hand. She looked at it; the spool of thread. Now she'd have to bring it 22

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    back. She closed her eyes. Her neck still hurt from the wrenching she'd given it. Had she really seen a movement? There'd been nothing there. Still, she could have sworn that someone had been looking down into the cabinet.
    At her.
    2:19 P.M.
    "Too tight?" asked Barrett.
    "No, it's fine," Florence answered quietly.
    Barrett finished tying the gloves at her wrists. As he did, Florence looked across his shoulder at Edith, who was sitting by the equipment table, the cat resting on her lap.
    "Put your palms on the chair plates," Barrett instructed. The gloves he'd fastened to Florence had metal plates attached to their palms. As Florence rested them on the plates nailed to the chair arms, a pair of tiny bulbs on the equipment table lighted.
    "So long as your hands remain in place, the bulbs will burn," Barrett told her. "Break contact—" He lifted her hands, and the bulbs went out.
    Florence watched as Barrett unrolled the wire for the shoe plates. It disturbed her that Edith had looked up the way she had, when she'd been conscious of nothing.
    "Will the foot plates activate the same two bulbs?" she asked.
    "Two others."
    "Isn't that a lot of light?"
    "The combined wattage of all four bulbs is less than ten," he answered as he connected the shoe plates.
    "I'd assumed we'd be in darkness."
    "I can't accept darkness as a test condition." Barrett glanced up. "Would you try the foot plates?"
    Florence set the plates attached to the soles of her shoes on the pair of plates Barrett had placed on the floor. On the equipment table, two more small bulbs went on. Barrett pushed up, wincing. "Don't be concerned," he said. "There'll be just enough illumination to observe by."
    Florence nodded. Barrett's words failed to reassure her, though. Why do I feel so upset? she thought.
    Fischer sat looking at the medium, her luxuriant figure outlined by the skin-tight costume. The sight did not arouse him.
    Those damned black outfits, he was thinking. How many of them had he worn? The memory of his early teen years was of endless sittings like this, his mother and himself riding from city to city on buses, from one test to another.
    He lit another cigarette and watched as Barrett connected wire leads to Florence's arms and thighs, roped her to the chair, then picked up a folded piece of mosquito netting to which tiny bells had been sewn. Shaking it open, Barrett fastened it to the wooden rod so that the netting hung down in the space uncovered by the draperies. He pulled the small table several inches toward himself. Now the netting filled the space between the table and Florence, weights on its bottom holding it taut.
    Barrett arranged the infrared lights so they'd shine across the surface of the table in front of the cabinet. Switching on the invisible lights, he moved his hand across the cabinet table. There was a clicking noise as the synchronized shutters of the two cameras were activated. Satisfied, Barrett checked the dynamometer and the globe of the telekinetoscope. He set out modeling clay and briefly stirred the melted paraffin wax in its pot on the small electric stove.
    "We're ready now," he said.
    As if it understood his words, the cat jumped suddenly from Edith's lap and loped across the room, heading for the entry hall.
    "Isn't that encouraging?" she said.
    "Doesn't mean a thing," Barrett told her. Adjusting the red and yellow lights to minimum illumination, he moved to the wall switch and depressed it. The great hall darkened. Barrett took his place at the table, switching on the tape recorder. "December 22, 1970," he said into the microphone. "Sitters: Doctor and Mrs. Lionel Barrett, Mr. Benjamin Franklin Fischer. Medium: Miss Florence Tanner." Quickly he recited the details of arrangements and precautions, then sat back. "Proceed," he said.
    The three