"Nonsense! All humbug, I tell you!" I asserted, somewhat disgusted.
"No, it is not all nonsense," he insisted. "A poor woman lost a sum of money ten days ago. Lilly set a figure and told her where to find it."
"And of course she found it?" I inquired incredulously.
"Yes, she found it," returned George. "And Lilly would not accept a farthing for his service. Two months ago a child was stolen from its home in Devonshire, and the parents came all the way to London to consult Lilly."
"And of course they found the child?" I asked.
"They did. It was with a band of gypsies who made their headquarters at a place called Gypsy Hill, Lambeth," returned Hamilton, provoked by my scepticism. "He learns some very curious truths from the stars."
"The stars!" I exclaimed contemptuously. "He is a shrewd observer of men and of things about him, and when he guesses right, I venture to say he finds his inspiration much lower than the stars."
"Perhaps he does," returned Hamilton. "Of that I cannot say. But this I know. He can put two and two together and make a larger sum total than I have ever seen come from any other man's calculations. He is learned in every branch of knowledge, and I respect his wonderful conclusions, asking no questions about his methods."
"Very well, I'll not dispute with you if you admit that he receives even a part of his knowledge from substellar sources. But while we are alone I want to ask you, and I want you to tell me the truth: has Frances been here to-day?"
"No! Tell me, for God's sake, tell me quickly! Why do you ask?" he exclaimed, turning to me in alarm. "Of late I have been haunted with the fear that she is in danger of violence from the king. He is capable of committing any crime—has committed many, as we all know! Why do you ask about Frances, Baron Ned?"