...
Of course, Sir Charles didn't believe a word of it; but his
curiosity was roused; he wished to see and judge for himself of
the wonderful thought-reader.
"What would be his terms, do you think, for a private
seance" he asked of Madame Picardet, the lady to whom the Seer
had successfully predicted the winning numbers.
"He does not work for money," Madame Picardet answered, "but
for the good of humanity. I'm sure he would gladly come and
exhibit for nothing his miraculous faculties."
"Nonsense!" Sir Charles answered. "The man must live. I'd
pay him five guineas, though, to see him alone. What hotel is he
stopping at?"
"The Cosmopolitan, I think," the lady answered. "Oh no; I
remember now, the Westminster."
Sir Charles turned to me quietly. "Look here, Seymour," he
whispered. "Go round to this fellow's place immediately after
dinner, and offer him five pounds to give a private seance at
once in my rooms without mentioning who I am to him; keep the
name quite quiet. Bring him back with you, too, and come
straight upstairs with him, so that there may be no collusion.
We'll see just how much the fellow can tell us."
I went, as directed. I found the Seer a very remarkable and
interesting person. He stood about Sir Charles's own height, but
was slimmer and straighter, with an aquiline nose, strangely
piercing eyes, very large, black pupils, and a finely-chiselled,
close-shaven face like the bust of Antinous in our hall in
Mayfair. What gave him his most characteristic touch, however,
was his odd head of hair, curly and wavy like Paderewski's,
standing out in a halo round his high white forehead and his
delicate profile...
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