The only thing I will say with complete confidence, about that mystic
and invisible power, is that it tells lies. The lies may be larks or
they may be lures to the imperilled soul or they may be a thousand
other things; but whatever they are, they are not truths about the
other world; or for that matter about this world.*
[*_Autobiography_, p. 77.]
He told Father O'Connor some years later* that "he had used the
planchette freely at one time, but had to give it up on account of
headaches ensuing . . . 'after the headaches came a horrid feeling as
if one were trying to get over a bad spree, with what I can best
describe as a bad smell in the mind.'"
[*_Father Brown on Chesterton,_ p. 74.]
Idling at his work he fell in with other idlers and has left a vivid
description in a _Daily News_ article called, "The Diabolist," of one
of his fellow students.
. . . It was strange, perhaps, that I liked his dirty, drunken
society; it was stranger still, perhaps, that he liked my society.
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