“But she didn’t intend to. I mean, she described a man who entered the room, and who stabbed my father, but it was Bobsy Roberts’ questions that made anybody think of Eugene Courtenay.”
“How?”
“Oh, he kept saying, Bobsy did, ‘Has he a pointed beard?’ and ‘is he tall and dark?’ and such leading hints. The woman said ‘Yes’ every time, but I don’t believe she knew what she was talking about.”
“And her mysterious reading of those sealed papers? You see, I know all the main facts, I just want your opinions.”
“Well, you’ve got me there! That woman had to read those by supernatural power, because there’s no other explanation. I know a bit about legerdemain and parlour magic and there was no opportunity whatever for any trickery. We wrote the things, sealed them, Bobsy Roberts collected them and handed them to her. Then in the same instant he switched off the light, and it wasn’t half a minute before she was reading them aloud to us.”
“In the dark?”
“Absolutely dark. And she hadn’t moved from her chair, for her voice came from the place she was sitting.”
“Ventriloquism?”
“Oh, no. Not a chance. Anyway, where could she go to have a light? The studio doors were all closed, and—why, of course, she didn’t leave her chair, for when Bobsy switched on the light, suddenly, there she sat, eyes closed, hands quiet, composed and unruffled. No, sir, there’s no explanation for that reading business but honest-to-goodness second sight! And, she gave us back our envelopes intact, seals unbroken.”
“Well, but, Mr. Stannard, if she had power to do all that, and I don’t doubt your word in the least particular, isn’t it strange that she couldn’t see exactly who that murderer was?”