Witchmoor Edge by Mike Crowson Page A

one,
about the pendulum dowsing experiments conducted by Tom Lethbridge.
He had been an archaeologist and museum curator at Cambridge who
had retired to Devon and conducted as a hobby a series of
experiments, which had honed the accuracy of pendulum dowsing. He
had irritated fellow archaeologists before his retirement by
dowsing the most suitable places to dig and been right more often
than them. Millicent thought that Lethbridge's eccentricity had
probably irritated his colleagues less than being right more often
than they were.
    Lethbridge, it seemed, had discovered that,
if you had a long cord, adjustable by winding it round a pencil or
stick, and a weight on the end, you could hold it out over various
items and get a rate for a length of cord at which the pendulum
would swing or rotate for various materials. For instance, with a
cord length of twenty-two inches a pendulum circled a silver object
twenty two times.
    The speaker in the room at Bradford City
Library had urged them all to try it for themselves and Millicent
had found a silver ring hidden beneath one of six sheets of paper,
each with an item of different material concealed underneath.
    "That's pretty good for a first try," an
auburn haired woman commented. She was rather striking with very
green eyes, which suggested the auburn might be at least partly
natural. Her hair was slightly longer than shoulder length and tied
back with a pewter clasp at the nape of her neck. "Assuming it was
a first try," the woman added.
    "Can anyone do this kind of thing?" Millicent
asked.
    Tobias NDibe was watching and it was he who
answered the question. "According to studies by the Stanford
Research Institute in the US," he said, "About 95 to 98 percent of
people can learn to do psi things like remote viewing, though, of
course, some have more natural talent than others. Some of the
human race need a lot of practice to be any good at all."
    "Yes, Toby," said the auburn haired woman,
"but Tom Lethbridge thought that only about 60 or 70 percent of
people could dowse, and your new friend looks like a natural."
    "I tend to agree, Judith," N'Dibe nodded.
"But with the question of natural talent at least I side with the
Stanford Research Institute rather than Tom Lethbridge."
    Millicent wondered which of those present
were part of the inner group sizing her up. She thought that Judith
was probably one of them and quite liked the woman. Of the others
she could not be certain. She thought the speaker was probably one
and he certainly seemed able to dowse and there was a tall, dark
haired and vaguely Italian looking woman in her late twenties who
seemed somehow another likely candidate.
    As the twenty or so people drifted away at
the end of the meeting, Millicent decided that she was sufficiently
interested in the outer group to come again in a months time, if
pressure of work allowed. She also decided she was interested in
knowing more about the inner group as well.
    They had driven in separate cars from the
restaurant so there would be no need for them to see each other
further that evening.
    "Just a moment," N'Dibe said as they went out
into the street. "I want to talk to one or two others before we go
our separate ways."
    Aha, Millicent thought. Out loud she said, "I
want to get back and sort out one or two work related things before
the night is out. Can you spare ten minutes to drive up to Baildon
when you've finished."
    "I think there would be time," N'Dibe agreed,
"If you give me the address."
     
    Millicent went into the house, picking up the
mail as she did - she had left that morning before it arrived. She
laid out cups, saucers and biscuits and filled the kettle, before
glancing through the envelopes. There was a bill from Yorkshire
electricity, a circular from a local estate agent offering to get a
good price for her house with a low commission charge, a begging
letter from a charity and some company offering her the chance to
win £100,000. She threw the letters unopened on