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The Parasite by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
page 6 of 74 (08%)
I should have been more impressed had I not heard the
same before. His sanguine spirit turns every fire-fly
into a star.

"No possible question about the bona fides this time,"
said he, in answer, perhaps, to some little gleam of
amusement in my eyes. "My wife has known her for many
years. They both come from Trinidad, you know. Miss
Penclosa has only been in England a month or two, and
knows no one outside the university circle, but I
assure you that the things she has told us suffice in
themselves to establish clairvoyance upon an absolutely
scientific basis. There is nothing like her, amateur
or professional. Come and be introduced!"

I like none of these mystery-mongers, but the amateur
least of all. With the paid performer you may pounce
upon him and expose him the instant that you have seen
through his trick. He is there to deceive you, and you
are there to find him out. But what are you to do with
the friend of your host's wife? Are you to turn on a
light suddenly and expose her slapping a surreptitious
banjo? Or are you to hurl cochineal over her evening
frock when she steals round with her phosphorus bottle
and her supernatural platitude? There would be a
scene, and you would be looked upon as a brute. So you
have your choice of being that or a dupe. I was in no
very good humor as I followed Wilson to the lady.

Any one less like my idea of a West Indian could not be
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