‘Eustasia Mapleleafe is a most remarkable woman, sir. She is a medium of the first degree; she possesses the power of prophecy, of clairvoyance, and of thought-reading. The book of the Soul is open to her, and you would wonder at her remarkable divinations.’
‘I must still plead my entire scepticism,’ said Bradley coldly.
‘I guess Eustasia Mapleleafe would convert you. She was one of your congregation today, and between ourselves is greatly concerned on your account.’
‘Concerned on my account!’ echoed the clergyman.
‘Yes, sir. She believes you to be under the sway of malign influences, possibly lunar or stellar. She perceived a dark spectrum on the radiant orb of your mind, troubling the solar effluence which all cerebral matter emits, and which is more particularly emitted by the phosphorescent cells of the human brain.’
Bradley would by this time have considered that he was talking to a raving madman, had not the Professor been self-contained and matter-of-fact. As it was, he could hardly conceive him to be quite sane. At any other time, perhaps, he might have listened with patience and even amusement to the fluent little American; but that day, as the reader is aware, his spirit was far too pre-occupied.
His face darkened unpleasantly as the Professor touched on his state of mind during the sermon, and he glanced almost angrily towards the door.
‘May I bring my sister?’ persisted the Professor. ‘Or stay—with your leave, sir, I’ll write our address upon that card, and perhaps you will favour her with a call.’
As he spoke, he took up his own card from the table, and wrote upon it with a pencil.
‘That’s it, sir—care of Mrs. Piozzi Baker, 17 Monmouth Crescent, Bayswater.’