"Let us look into the crystal of the past, present, and future and read what it has to reveal," he added solemnly, darkening the room, which was already only dimly lighted. Then Hata, the crystal-gazer, solemnly seated himself in a chair. Before him, in his hands, reposing on a bag of satin, lay a huge oval piece of glass. He threw forward his head and riveted his eyes on the milky depths of the crystal. In a moment he began to talk, first ramblingly, then coherently.
"I see a man, a dark man," he began. "He is talking earnestly to a young girl. She is trying to avoid him. Ah - he seizes her by both arms. They struggle. He has his hand at her throat. He is choking her."
I was thinking of the newspaper descriptions of Lawton, which the fakir had undoubtedly read, but Kennedy was leaning forward over the crystal-gazer, not watching the crystal at all, nor with his eyes on the clairvoyant's face.
"Her tongue is protruding from her mouth, her eyes are bulging - "
"Yes, yes," urged Kennedy. "Go on."
"She falls. He strikes her. He flees. He goes to - "
Kennedy laid his hand ever so lightly on the arm of the clairvoyant, then quickly withdrew it.
"I cannot see where he goes. It is dark, dark. You will have to come back to-morrow when the vision is stronger."
The thing stung me by its crudity. Kennedy, however, seemed elated by our experience as we gained the street.
"Craig," I remonstrated, "you don't mean to say you attach any importance to vapourings like that? Why, there wasn't a thing the fellow couldn't have imagined from the newspapers, even the clumsy description of Dudley Lawton."