“Yes, sir.”
“Fourteen, sir.”
“Fourteen people. And I believe the prisoner’s average fee is ten and sixpence.”
“Yes.”
“Seven pounds in one day! Pretty good wages when many an honest man is content with five shillings.”
“These were the tradespeople!” cried Linden.
“I must ask you not to interrupt. You are already very efficiently represented,” said the Magistrate severely.
“Now, Henrietta Dresser,” continued the prosecutor, wagging his pince-nez. “Let us hear what occurred when you and Amy Bellinger visited the prisoner.”
The policewoman gave an account which was in the main true, reading it from her book. She was not a married woman, but the medium had accepted her statement that she was. He had fumbled with several names and had seemed greatly confused. The name of a dog—Pedro—had been submitted to him, but he had not recognised it as such. Finally, he had answered questions as the future of her alleged daughter, who was, in fact, no relation to her, and had foretold that she would be unhappy in her marriage.