Sorry for the delay in posting, I've had some tech difficulties at my end, now resolved.

Stella D.

Chapter 17: Fresh Air

Martin pulled open the heavy library door, as Ruth slumped into the corridor. She looked up at him and managed to gasp "carbon monoxide" before fainting. Completely alarmed, his experience downstairs in the lab flew out of his mind, as he pulled her further out of the room and ran in to drag a woozy Louisa out as well, all the while yelling for everyone else to get out. Penhale managed to pull himself together and usher the others to stumble into the corridor.

Martin herded them along, opened the front door, and started to push them outside into the fresh air, but it was a cold night so they resisted. He relented, and allowed them to stay shivering in the entrance hall with the door open, with his arms around Louisa.

Mr. and Mrs. Robinson came out of their living quarters to see what the commotion was about, and brought blankets for everyone, as Martin ran out to his car to get his medical bag. He checked on the elderly couple and confirmed they were unaffected. "There's been an accumulation of carbon monoxide in the library," he explained to them. "I suspect it's coming from the fireplace."

"Oh dear," Mr. Robinson replied. "I specifically advised Mr. Moran against lighting a fire. The chimney has not been cleaned in years."

Martin responded with a suspicious "hm," as he assured the Robinsons everything was under control and they could return to their own quarters. He recruited a now wide awake Penhale to accompany him back to the library, extinguish the fireplace, and open the windows. When they returned, Martin began checking everyone's heartbeat and oxygen levels with a finger oximeter as he confronted Jack. "Is this true Mr. Robinson told you not to light a fire?"

"The butler just said he advised against it, he didn't specifically say 'don't do it!' We needed a fire, it's brass monkeys out there tonight," Jack replied, nodding to the icy wind blowing through the open door and pulling his blanket tighter around him.

Ruth had revived enough to speak up now. "Carbon monoxide is known to put people in a confused state of mind, as I'm all too familiar with myself. It can make them receptive to phantasms and I think there are case studies where it was found to be the culprit in supposed hauntings." She turned to address Jack directly. "I don't suppose that played into your decision to light a fire against the butler's advice. Perhaps you thought a bit of light CO poisoning would enhance the atmosphere?"

"I just wanted to warm up the room," he insisted, defensively. "I had no idea the chimney was in such bad shape. And it was just my idea," he added. "Lamorna had nothing to do with it."

Now Penhale spoke up. "Well then, there's the matter of Caroline Davies' ghost making false accusations of arson and murder. How do you explain that?"

Everyone turned to look at him. "I made up all that about Caroline and the gardener. There never was any handsome young gardener here named Tristan, no paraffin smell, no suspicion about arson. I was telling porkies. The old police reports just had witness accounts saying Caroline knocked over a candle, her nightdress caught on fire, the servants tried to put it out but the fire spread. The house was extensively damaged but she was the only death."

"Why would you do that?" Even Martin was confused.

Penhale was feeling pleased with himself. "It was a test. I was deliberately feeding the medium false information to test her powers. If she saw through it and turned out to be the real deal I might want to enlist her help. We could have made a great detective duo, solving crimes, uncovering paranormal mysteries, fighting forces of darkness, it would make a brilliant TV show…" He trailed off with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Get on with it!" Martin ordered.

Penhale snapped back to attention. "Well anyway, I don't know how this Ouija thingie works but it fell for my story lock, stock, and sinker."

Margaret started to laugh, but suppressed it when she saw how outraged her friends were. "There's no way anyone was guiding that planchette," Hunter insisted.

"Not consciously perhaps," Ruth noted. "A Ouija planchette is made to move smoothly over the board through minute nervous impulses from those who have their fingers on it, known as the ideomotor reflex. People's unconscious desire for a more interesting story than a simple accident undoubtedly influenced the things that were spelled out. Accordingly, we elaborated on what was spelled out to enhance the story."

Lamorna sputtered with indignation at Ruth's scientific rebuttal of her method. "The planchette is absolutely responding to forces beyond our control and understanding. It's just that… I suppose spirits can lie, just as people do."

"They certainly can do," Penhale replied.

"I've had enough," Martin retorted. "I want everyone out of this house right now!"

Margaret and the others all started to speak at once to protest, when Louisa intervened. "Martin! It's the middle of the night. You can't just throw everyone out without warning."

Martin relented. "All right, you can stay till tomorrow. You all seem fine now but I strongly advise everyone to sleep with their windows open to get maximal exposure to fresh air. If it's cold, put on an extra blanket."

Penhale pulled out his keys. "Doc, I was planning to sleep in my own bed tonight anyway."

Ruth agreed she'd rather be home tonight. At Martin's insistence, she let him and Louisa drive her home, with a promise to bring her back in the morning to pick up her car.

"Well, that professor from California is giving his big presentation to the literary festival here tomorrow," Louisa reminded everyone. "We'll be returning for that."

To be continued…