He
threw forward his head and riveted his eyes on the milky depths of
the crystal. In a moment he began to talk, first ramblingly, then
coherently.
"I see a man, a dark man," he began. "He is talking earnestly to a
young girl. She is trying to avoid him. Ah - he seizes her by both
arms. They struggle. He has his hand at her throat. He is choking
her."
I was thinking of the newspaper descriptions of Lawton, which the
fakir had undoubtedly read, but Kennedy was leaning forward over the
crystal-gazer, not watching the crystal at all, nor with his eyes
on the clairvoyant's face.
"Her tongue is protruding from her mouth, her eyes are bulging - "
"Yes, yes," urged Kennedy. "Go on."
"She falls. He strikes her. He flees. He goes to - "
Kennedy laid his hand ever so lightly on the arm of the clairvoyant,
then quickly withdrew it.
"I cannot see where he goes. It is dark, dark. You will have to
come back to-morrow when the vision is stronger."
The thing stung me by its crudity. Kennedy, however, seemed elated
by our experience as we gained the street.
"Craig," I remonstrated, "you don't mean to say you attach any
importance to vapourings like that? Why, there wasn't a thing the
fellow couldn't have imagined from the newspapers, even the clumsy
description of Dudley Lawton.
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