"Not enough," said Gartside.
"It's all you'll get. A sense is the perceptiveness of an organ. You've eyes, ears, a nose, a palate, and a number of sensitive surfaces. If you want a sixth sense, you must have a sixth perceive organ. You haven't. Therefore you must be content with seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching."
Gartside was not satisfied with the narrow category.
"I know a man who can always tell when there's a cat in the room."
"Before or after seeing it?" Rawnsley inquired politely.
"Oh, before. Genuine case. I tested him by locking a cat in the sideboard once when he was coming to dine with me. He complained the moment he got into the room."
"Acute smell-sense," Rawnsley decided.
"You hear of people who can foretell a change in the weather," Gartside went on.
"Usually wrong," said Rawnsley. "When they're right, and it isn't coincidence, you can trace it to the influence of a changed atmosphere on a sensitive part of their body. An old wound, for instance. Acute touch sense."
I happened to catch sight of the Seraph lying on his face piling the fallen apple-blossoms into little heaps.