Free The Ghost Hunters by Neil Spring Page A

performance of my Laboratory?’
    This was rather an unfair question. ‘It is a little early for me to judge. But’ – I cast my mind back to Conan Doyle’s vented frustrations – ‘the way I see it, people are looking to you toanswer their hopes. That’s a dangerous position to be in – it makes you vulnerable. Believe me,’ I continued, thinking of Mother, ‘hope is a passion that burns the brightest. Extinguish that hope and you’ll devastate millions. Validate it, and you’ll become their saviour.’
    ‘I have never thought of myself as saviour.’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘Is that how you see me?’
    ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mr Price. But I suppose in some ways you are the answer to an extremely vexatious question that has been troubling me for some time now.’
    ‘Oh really? And what is that?’
    ‘Whether it can ever be reasonable to believe that a genuinely paranormal event has occurred.’ I leaned in to demonstrate my interest. ‘Mr Price, what got you interested in this subject?’
    I surprised myself by my candour; something about the man sitting opposite me invited a frank response.
    He drew in a great lungful of smoke, leaning back in his chair. ‘Ah, Sarah, for now you must allow me the indulgence of my own mysteries.’
    ‘You mean secrets.’
    ‘If you like.’ It never occurred to me that he might not want to discuss the catalyst of his interest.
    ‘There will be plenty of time to learn about me. We are talking about you now. Is there a personal reason why you want to work for me?’
    ‘No,’ I answered quickly. ‘But you seem to me such a sceptical man. After your lecture the other night, I was left wondering whether there is any evidence that
could
persuade you. Surely, there must be? Otherwise, how would science ever make new discoveries, if it wasn’t prepared to reject old, established theories under the weight of new evidence?’
    I was pleased to see that I had piqued Price’s interest. ‘Very good. Go on, please.’
    ‘Well – theoretically, if a case were to cross your desk which involved enough witnesses, enough incontrovertible evidence, physical trace marks, photographs and the like – well, then one would have to accept that a genuinely paranormal event had occurred.’
    Price considered this for a moment. ‘Tell me, how many times have you watched the sun set?’
    ‘I’m sorry … ?’
    ‘How many times have you watched the sun set?’ he repeated with a hint of impatience.
    ‘Why, too many to count, of course.’
    ‘And how many humans in the history of the earth do you imagine have witnessed the very same thing?’
    I shook my head. ‘An unfathomable number. But I don’t see—’
    ‘What, then, if I were to inform you that the time is now past twenty-one hundred hours, that it is not morning but night time, and that the sun has not yet set?’
    ‘I … well, I would say you were lying.’
    ‘I never lie, Miss Grey.’
    ‘Then I would say you were mistaken.’
    ‘Very well.’ He stood quickly, came around the desk, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and led me over to the window before rolling up the blind. ‘Then what if I could
show
you too?’ His voice, I noticed, had a propensity to drift between registers. Low and soft, it rolled over me with beguiling influence. He gestured at the view out of the window over rooftops set against a grey sky. ‘And what if you could see with your own eyes that the sun was still as high in the sky as it is now? What then?’
    He was so close to me that I could feel the warmth of hisbreath on my cheek. ‘Then I would say the event was a violation of a law of nature. A miracle.’
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘But what does that have to do with my question?’
    ‘It has
everything
to do with your question,’ he snapped so abruptly that I gave a slight start. ‘Indeed, it goes to the heart of the matter.’
    He returned to his chair. I followed suit.
    ‘Your understanding of possibilities in this