Often he referred to his notes, and again he told vividly from memory the exact words of the priestess.
“And you fell for that?” cried Steele, as the tale ended.
“Sure I did, and so would you if you’d been there. You can sort of sense the difference between the professional fake mediums and this—this lady. She was the real thing, all right. I felt just as you do, before I saw her, but I was soon convinced. Why, man, that reading the sealed messages was enough.”
“Pooh, they have lots of ways of doing that.”
“But she didn’t use any of their ‘ways.’ I, myself, handed the bunch to her, and immediately she read them out, and in pitch dark, too. No, there was no chance for trickery. She read them in dark or light, equally well. And not a seal broken or an envelope torn. Now, then!”
“No chance for a confederate?”
“Not the least. We sat in a row, and she sat facing us, fully eight feet away. And what could a confederate do? I handed her the envelopes,—she gave them back to me,—intact. Not one of us moved. When it was dark, her voice proved she was in her chair, and when I flashed on the light suddenly, there she was, without a change of posture, holding the envelopes exactly as I had given them to her. I tell you she’s the real thing. I’ve read up on the trickery business, and all the books say that while there is lots of fraud, there is also a certain amount of telepathy or clairvoyance or whatever you call it, that’s true. And that’s her sort.”
“Well, who is the man? Did she tell you?”
“No, she didn’t know. But I know.”
“Who, then?”