Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/30

“For one or two of the hotel managers—as a friendly gesture,” Tarneverro cut in. “I received no fee of any sort. I will not do this kind of thing for the general public.”

Harry Wing shrugged. “The matter then becomes sad disappointment for me,” he answered.

A grim smile spread over the seer’s dark face. “Sit down,” he said. “I have spent some time in China, and I understand how great is the interest of your people in fortune-tellers. So for a moment, while you were telling me why you came, I thought you were speaking the truth.”

The visitor frowned. “I am now rapidly failing to understand you.”

Still smiling, Tarneverro dropped into a chair facing the Oriental. “Yes, Mr.—ah—er—Wing, I believe you said—momentarily I was deceived. And then a certain little gift of mine came to my aid. You have been kind enough to speak of my success. I have succeeded—why? Because I happen to be psychic, Mr. Wing———”

“Chinese people are psychic, too.”

“Just a moment. As I stood there listening to you, a psychic wave swept over me. I had a feeling—a feeling of—what? Of stern men who sit in police stations and are sworn to enforce the laws. Of detectives pursuing evil-doers, landing them at last—and then, a court of justice, so-called, a learned judge. That, my friend, is the feeling I had. Rather amazing, don’t you think?”

His visitor’s expression had lost suddenly all its stupidity. The little black eyes snapped with admiration.