and to Agatha, who was looking charming in white and pink, with glittering wheat-ears in her hair, when Wilson came twitching at my sleeve.
"You want something positive, Gilroy," said he, drawing me apart into a corner. "My dear fellow, I have a phenomenon--a phenomenon!"
I should have been more impressed had I not heard the same before. His sanguine spirit turns every fire-fly into a star.
"No possible question about the bona fides this time," said he, in answer, perhaps, to some little gleam of amusement in my eyes. "My wife has known her for many years. They both come from Trinidad, you know. Miss Penclosa has only been in England a month or two, and knows no one outside the university circle, but I assure you that the things she has told us suffice in themselves to establish clairvoyance upon an absolutely scientific basis. There is nothing like her, amateur or professional. Come and be introduced!"
I like none of these mystery-mongers, but the amateur least of all. With the paid perfo
A rather unpleasant and predictable story about the potential evils of mesmerism, clearly written well before anyone knew much about hypnosis. (If it worked as powerfully as this novelette suggests, a lot more people would have been able to lose weight and stop smoking by now.) But even if you can suspend your disbelief about that, it's still not a very good story.