“Priestess, if you please,” she returned. “I refuse to be called a medium or a seeress or even a clairvoyant. I am these things, but the titles have been so misused that I claim only to be a Priestess of the Occult. This is no academic title, I simply name myself a priestess of the cult I express and follow.”
“Priestess, I greet you,” said Bobsy, and to those who knew him a shade of mockery might be detected in his tone. But it was the merest hint and quite unobservable to the one he addressed. In most decorous manner he took a place in the group, and Joyce announced the plan she had in mind.
“First,” she said, “we will have an exhibition of Oriental powers. We will follow her instructions and she will give us a showing of her methods and her feats. Then,—if I say so,—we will proceed to try the other experiment.”
“It is well,” said the Priestess. “Remember, please, I make no claims to magic or to witchcraft. I have, within myself, some inexplicable, some mysterious power that enables me to see clairvoyantly through material substances. I have also an occult power which allows me to see happenings at a distance or in the past as if they were transpiring here and now. These two powers are at your disposal, but further than that I cannot go. I cannot answer questions, unless they come within the range of the two conditions I have mentioned to you just now. I cannot read the future or tell fortunes. I can only see what is shown to me, and if I disappoint you, I cannot help it. Now let us proceed. I will ask you each to write a question on a slip of paper and enclose it in an envelope. Sign your name to your question and seal the envelope securely.”
“Old stuff,” said Bobsy Roberts to Barry, in a low whisper. But Barry shook his head. He would not commit himself until the experiment was over.
“Will you get some paper and envelopes?” asked Orienta. “Any sort will do.”
Barry rose and went to the desk nearest to him. There was a small paper pad, and in a pigeon-hole were several small envelopes.
“Will these do?” he asked.
“Any kind will do,” said Orienta, wearily, rather than petulantly.
Bobsy looked at her closely. Surely she wasn’t at all particular about the materials used. He must watch carefully for hocus pocus, if he was to discover any.