others. But I guess the crystal is mostly fake. Mrs. Del Garmo had one like yours. She admitted to me that she never saw anything in it until she hypnotised herself. And she could do that by looking steadily at a brass knob on a bed-post; and see as much in it as in her crystal."
The fat woman lighted another cigarette and blew a contemplative whiff toward the crystal: "No: at best the game is a crooked one, even for the few who have really any occult power."
"Why?" asked the girl, surprised.
"Because they are usually clever, nimble-witted, full of intuition. Deduction is an instinct with them. And it is very easy to elaborate from a basis of truth;—it's more than a temptation to intelligence to complete a story desired and already paid for by a client. Because almost invariably the client is as stupid as the medium is intelligent. And, take it from me, it's impossible not to use your intelligence when a partly finished business deal requires it."
Athalie was silent.
"I'd do it," laughed Mrs. Bellmore.
Athalie said nothing.
"Say, on the level," said the older woman, "do you see a lot that we others can't see, Miss Greensleeve?"
"I have seen—some things."
"Plenty, too, I'll bet! Oh, it's in your pretty face, in your eyes!—it's in you, all about you. I'm not much in that line but I can feel it in the air. Why I felt it as soon as I came into your room, but I was that stupid—thinking of Mrs. Del Garmo—and never