the other; an air of having come in spite of uneasiness; he was almost shamefaced.
The medium impelled him gently into a chair.
“First a cigarette,” he said; “next a little whisky, and then I shall be delighted to listen. … No; please do as I say.”
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