Free Sleuths by Bill Pronzini

devout. Buckley appeared ill at ease, as if he wished the evening's business was already finished; he kept casting glances at Quincannon which the detective studiously ignored.
    Vargas asked Quincannon and Sabina if they would care for a refreshment, coffee, tea, perhaps a glass of sherry. They both declined. This seemed to relieve Buckley; he asked Vargas, "Isn't it about time to begin the séance?"
    "Soon, Mr. Buckley. The spirits must not be hurried."
    "Are they friendly tonight?" Mrs. Buckley asked. "Can you tell, dear Professor Vargas?"
    "The auras are uncertain. I perceive antagonistic waves among the benign."
    "Oh, Professor!"
    "Do not fear," Vargas said. "Even if a malevolent spirit should cross the border, no harm will come to you or to any of us. Angkar will protect us."
    "But will my Bernice's spirit be allowed through if there is a malevolent force present?"
    Vargas patted her arm reassuringly. "It is my belief that she will, though I cannot be certain until the veil has been lifted. Have faith, dear Mrs. Buckley."
    Sabina asked him, "Isn't there anything you can do to prevent a malevolent spirit from crossing over?"
    "Alas, no. I am merely a teacher of the light and truth of theocratic unity, merely an operator between the Beyond and this mortal sphere."
    Merely a purveyor of pap, Quincannon thought.
    Grace Cobb touched Vargas's sleeve; her fingers lingered almost caressingly. "We have faith in you, Professor."
    "In Angkar, dear lady," Vargas told her, but his fingers caressed hers in return and the look he bestowed upon her had a smoldering quality—the same sort of cat-at-cream look, Quincannon thought, that Sabina had accused him earlier of directing at her. "Place your faith in Angkar and the spirit world."
    Quincannon asked him, "Angkar is your spirit guide and guardian angel?"
    "Yes. He lived more than a thousand years past and his spirit has ascended to one of the highest planes in the After-world."
    "A Hindu, was he?"
    Vargas seemed mildly offended. "Not at all, my dear sir. Angkar was an Egyptian nobleman in the court of Nebuchadnezzar."
    Quincannon managed to refrain from pointing out that Nebuchadnezzar was not an Egyptian but the king of Babylon and conqueror of Jerusalem some six centuries B.C. Not that any real harm would have been done if he had mentioned the fact; Vargas would have covered by claiming he had meant Nefertiti or some such. None of the others, except Sabina perhaps, seemed to notice the error.
    Sabina said, "Those rings are most impressive, Professor. Are they Egyptian?"
    "This one is." Vargas presented his left hand. "An Egyptian Signet and Seal Talisman Ring, made from virgin gold. It preserves its wearer against ill luck and wicked influences." He offered his right hand. "This is the Ring of King Solomon. Its Chaldaic inscription stands as a reminder to the wearer that no matter what his troubles may be, they shall soon be gone. The inscription here translates as 'This shall also pass.'"
    "Oh, Professor Vargas," Mrs. Buckley gushed, "you're so knowledgeable, so wise in so many ways."
    Quincannon's dinner stirred ominously under his breastbone.
    He was spared further discomfort, at least for the present, by the entrance of the psychic assistant, Annabelle. She announced, "All is in readiness, Professor," and without waiting for a response, glided out again.
    "Good ladies and gentlemen," Vargas said, "before we enter the spirit room may I accept your most kind and welcome donations to the Unified College of the Attuned Impulses, so that we may continue in our humble efforts to bring the psychic and material planes into closer harmony?"
    Quincannon paid for himself and Sabina—the outrageous "New Ones" donation of fifty dollars each. If he had not been assured of reimbursement from their client, he would have been much more grudging than he was in handing over the greenbacks. Buckley was tight-lipped as he paid, and sweat oiled his neck and the lower of his two chins; the