“I’m glad you found it so—very,” said Lagune.
There was a pause, and then Lewisham plunged desperately. “There is a young lady—she is your typewriter....”
He stopped from sheer loss of breath.
“Yes?” said Lagune.
“Is she a medium or anything of that sort?”
“Well,” Lagune reflected, “She is not a medium, certainly. But—why do you ask?”
“Oh!... I wondered.”
“You noticed her eyes perhaps. She is the stepdaughter of that man Chaffery—a queer character, but indisputably mediumistic. It’s odd the thing should have struck you. Curiously enough I myself have fancied she might be something of a psychic—judging from her face.”
“A what?”
“A psychic—undeveloped, of course. I have thought once or twice. Only a little while ago I was speaking to that man Chaffery about her.”