The Seer turned to him with a sullen air. "You want a better sign?"
he said, in a very impressive voice. "A sign that will convince you!
Very well: you have a letter in your left waistcoat pocket--a
crumpled-up letter. Do you wish me to read it out? I will, if you
desire it."

It may seem to those who know Sir Charles incredible, but, I am
bound to admit, my brother-in-law coloured. What that letter
contained I cannot say; he only answered, very testily and
evasively, "No, thank you; I won't trouble you. The exhibition you
have already given us of your skill in this kind more than amply
suffices." And his fingers strayed nervously to his waistcoat
pocket, as if he was half afraid, even then, Senor Herrera would
read it.

I fancied, too, he glanced somewhat anxiously towards Madame
Picardet.

The Seer bowed courteously. "Your will, senor, is law," he said. "I
make it a principle, though I can see through all things, invariably
to respect the secrecies and sanctities. If it were not so, I might
dissolve society. For which of us is there who could bear the whole
truth being told about him?" He gazed around the room. An unpleasant
thrill supervened. Most of us felt this uncanny Spanish American
knew really too much. And some of us were engaged in financial
operations.

"For example," the Seer continued blandly, "I happened a few weeks
ago to travel down here from Paris by train with a very intelligent
man, a company promoter. He had in his bag some documents--some