Laurie permitted himself to be managed; there was a strong, almost paternal air in the other’s manner that was difficult to resist. He lit his cigarette, he sipped his whisky; but his movements were nervously quick.
“Well, then. …” and he interrupted himself. “What are those things, Mr. Vincent?” (He nodded towards the second shelf in the bookcase.)
Mr. Vincent turned on the hearthrug.
“Those? Oh! those are a few rather elementary instruments for my work.”
He lifted down a crystal ball on a small black polished wooden stand and handed it over.
“You have heard of crystal-gazing? Well, that is the article.”
“Is that crystal?”
“Oh no: common glass. Price three shillings and sixpence.”
Laurie turned it over, letting the shining globe run on to his hand.
“And this is—” he began.
“And this,” said the medium, setting a curious windmill-shaped affair, its sails lined with looking-glass, on the little table by the fire, “this is a French toy. Very elementary.”
“What’s that?”
“Look.”
Mr. Vincent wound a small handle at the back of the windmill to a sound of clockwork, set it down again, and released it. Instantly the sails began to revolve, noiseless and swift, producing the effect of a rapidly