How did you ever manage it? He is not an attractive
man. And you--a butterfly. It is a miracle. There must be depths in
you. Are marriages made in Heaven? I thought--he thinks--you married
him for his money. And you love him! I shall never get over this. Lady
Helen, you are a most amazing woman!" She rushed at me panting with rage and, seizing my arm, shook it with
both hands. "If ever you tell him--I'll--I'll kill you!" she hissed. "But why?" "He must find out himself. He must suffer. He deserves it. He has
bitterly insulted me. He has shamed my sex. He must gnaw out his heart. In no other way can he be made like other men. I'll teach him. I'll
teach him. Oh, if you dare to interfere! But you shan't--you would not
dare." "No," I said, "I would not dare." Next second she was in another mood. Her anger melted to pathos and the
little siren began to plead to me. "You know what I really want you to
do is to help me," she murmured, oh! so prettily. "And it is all for
Dixon's sake, or really and truly I would not ask. You see, Doctor, I
am working on a system. Goodness, how I am trusting you! And you can
help, oh! ever so much." "Only tell me how." "Do not lose a chance to revile me." I was staggered. "I beg your pardon, Lady Helen!" I cried. "Ah! I thought you would understand. Don't you see you are his only
friend? More than that, you are the only man he ever speaks to. He is
a hermit. Well, then, who else is there to reproach me to his ears? To
put his own thoughts of me into words?" "But what on earth do you want that done for?" "It will compel him to defend me, first by lip, then by heart." I confess I whistled. "I felt it to be necessary to have this talk with you," went on Lady
Helen. "Hitherto he has done all the reviling and you the defending of
me. Is it not so?" "You little witch." "And that is not right, since it is he, and not you, who is my husband." "Lady Helen, you are surely the cleverest woman in the world." "I have thought the matter out," she answered, with a sad little smile. "Is it wonderful that a woman should wish to be happy and that she
should fight for that with every weapon she can find?" She rose and
held out her hand. "You will go and make friends soon, will you not? He
is fretting because you have deserted him." "In a very few days, Lady Helen. I wish I could this moment, but I
cannot." "You are very busy, eh?" "I have a task to carry out. It will be finished at the end of the
week." "So!" she said and shrugged her shoulders. "And are you quite engaged? Could you not come to me to-night? Your friend Captain Weldon comes,
and some others. We are to have our fortunes told. Signor Navarro has
promised us a séance. Miss Ottley has arranged it. She tells me he is a
truly marvellous clairvoyant, medium, et-cetera. Have you a curiosity
to know your future? Do come! Dixon will be there." "Thank you very much; yes, I shall be glad to go." I opened the door for her and she blew me a kiss from the stairs. I
returned to my work, but it was very little I was able to do the rest
of that afternoon. What could have induced Miss Ottley to arrange this
séance? Were her nerves giving way under the strain of Dr. Belleville's
threats? Did she really believe this rascal Navarro capable of
predicting events? Was she becoming superstitious? These reflections
profoundly disturbed me. Chapter XVII

The Séance


Navarro evidently belonged to the highest and most ingenious order
of charlatanry. He had no assistant, no machinery, no accomplice. It was almost impossible to suspect any of the audience. There were
only Lady Helen, Miss Ottley, Mrs. Greaves (wife of a Parliamentary
Undersecretary), the Countess von Oeltzen (the Austrian Ambassador's
wife), Weldon, Hubbard, the Count von Oeltzen and myself present. And
the medium scouted the idea of turning down the lights. He left such
devices to impostors, he remarked. He was a tall, thin fellow, with
big, black eyes and a thick-lipped mouth. He had the most beautiful
hands and feet. His fingers were covered with valuable diamond rings. He had a big bulbous nose and he wore a _tire-boucheau_ moustache and
beard consisting of about sixteen coarse stiff black hairs; four on
each side of his upper lip and eight on his chin. He plucked at the
latter continually in order to display his hands and his rings. It
would have been a difficult matter to find his match in vulgarity, in
ugliness, and impudence. But he was certainly impressive. He talked
of himself in a booming baritone, like a Barnum praising an elephant. He adored himself and expected to be adored. He spoke with a strong
Irish-Spanish accent. Probably he was an Irishman who had lived in
Spain. But he posed as a full-blooded Castilian who had learned English
from a Cork philomath. After he had exhausted his vocabulary in describing some of his
clairvoyant achievements he needlessly directed us to be silent. He
had permitted none of us a chance to speak thitherto. We were to wait,
he said, till he began to breathe in a peculiar heavy manner, and then
who so wished to experiment, must take his hands and hold them firmly
for a little while, thinking of the matter next the experimenter's
heart; and then we should see what we should see. With a smile of
lordly self-confidence he reposed his limbs upon a couch and sank back
on the cushions. I glanced around the throng and saw they were all
staring at Navarro--Miss Ottley with parted lips and rapt intentness. Her expression irritated me. Soon afterwards I met Hubbard's eyes. He
gave me a scowl. I looked at Weldon. He turned and frowned at me. I
directed my attention to Lady Helen. She grew restless and, presently
moving in her chair, glanced rapidly about. She started when our eyes
encountered and impulsively placed a finger on her lips. I hadn't
thought of speaking. I was disgusted. Mrs. Greaves, the Countess and
the Ambassador all in turn gave me scowling glances. It was as if
everybody recognised and resented my secret scepticism. It appeared I
was the only sane person in the room. Oh! no, there was Navarro. He was
sane enough undoubtedly; the rogue. He was making his living. It was
his business to make fools of people. I returned to contemplating him
with a sense of positive relief. At least I could hope to be amused. He had closed his eyes and was therefore uglier than ever. His whole
body was tense with silent effort. I wondered if some of his audience
were unconsciously imitating him. They all were, except myself. I felt
inclined to get up and shake them for a pack of self-delivered dupes,
lambs self-abandoned to the sacrificial rites of this High Priest of
Thomas-rot. Soon, friend Navarro began to breathe stertorously. So did
his audience, for a minute or two. Then they turned and looked at one
another and at me; and I rejoice to say my calm smile disconcerted
them. But I refrained from glancing at Miss Ottley. I could not bear to
see her look foolish. Perhaps she did not. They pointed at one another.