An uncertain titter came from the woman. She said, “I know I’m all upset-like — but I’ll try,” and she sat back in her chair and rested her hands on the arms, leaving her purse on the table.
Doctor Alcazar was relieved. He said, “Excellent!” and then, “We will begin, please, by your giving me some personal possession to hold.” He reached out a hand, palm uppermost. “It is a matter of attaining close contact with your psyche.”
She said, “Ow, I see,” and put both hands up to her throat, as if to unpin the cheap brooch.
This would never do — and Doctor Alcazar said smoothly, “Anything except personal jewelry, madame. Its intrinsically counteractive density tends to adumbrate the necessary metaphysic radiations.”
“Ow... I see—” she said again, and picked her purse off the table, set it on her lap, and opened it.
She was in perfect position beneath the mirror which hung above her, so unobtrusively, in the drapery festooned from the tent-top. Doctor Alcazar leaned back in his chair and through half-closed, mystic eyes saw the contents of the purse in the mirror as her fingers rummaged in it. There were, to his experienced gaze, several items of possible use among the usual feminine litter:
An open change-purse from which protruded the end of a long roll of stamps; half a candy bar with its wrappings carefully folded back; a crumpled, postmarked envelope addressed to Miss Lily Something-or-other-which-began-with-M; and a small neatly-folded piece of violet-colored wrapping-paper tied around with curious string of interwoven green-and-gold strands.
Doctor Alcazar’s client picked out a compact and laid it in his still outstretched hand, and closed her bag.
Doctor Alcazar murmured, “Thank you... Thank you...” and as his long fingers caressed the small enameled case, he began to speak in a remote and vibrant monotone.
“You have,” said Doctor Alcazar, “a most highly sensitized anima, and are therefore a sympathetic subject... You are named for a flower — yes, a lily!... You are a foreigner by birth, but have resided in this country for a considerable time... You have a generous, impulsive nature, but are somewhat handicapped by shyness... Your life is bound up with that of a person of wealth — I think a woman... A great deal of your time is taken up by the traditionally feminine occupation of sewing...”
As the General Reading proceeded, its effect upon Doctor Alcazar’s client grew more and more marked, and when he reached the point at which he informed her that she had “a fondness for candy, a sweet tooth,” she could not contain her astonishment.
“Well I never!” she gasped.
Doctor Alcazar sat upright and fully opened his eyes. He said, “And that, madame, is the General Reading... In the Special Delineation we can go deeper — much deeper. Do you wish to proceed?”
“Ow, yes!” said his client, and now Doctor Alcazar assumed a more expansive position, fixing his unusual gaze firmly upon her face.
“You are troubled about something,” said Doctor Alcazar. “A matter about which you would like to consult me.”
“That’s right,” breathed his client.
“Then, madame,” said Doctor Alcazar, “tell me your problem.”
But he had wrought too well.
“Do I ’ave to?” asked his client. “Don’t you knaow what it is?”
“Hell!” said Doctor Alcazar to himself. “A boomer!” Aloud he said, with noticeable coldness, “I regret that madame feels it necessary to test me further. However...”
He put one hand to his brow — and watched the woman from its shadow — and thought.
Stamps. Paper and string.
He said, “I seem to see letters — correspondence—”
No reaction.
He said, “—but then you are a great letter-writer. Ah! There is something else — a piece of material, is it? No. It’s paper — wrapping-paper. And it’s a strange color — almost violet—”
Ah! On the nose!
He said, “...Strange — I have lost sight of this paper... Something else is taking its place... I can’t quite distinguish it — but there are two colors, interwoven... Green-and-gold, green-and-gold...”
“Coo-er!” breathed his client, and Doctor Alcazar noted that her astonishment was mixed with something else — something very much like fear.
“Now, madame!” Doctor Alcazar was stern. “You have had proof of my powers — and my time is limited. If you wish my advice, state your problem.”
The woman, intensely nervous, was on the edge of her chair again, but now it didn’t matter. She said:
“It’s abaout my mistr — my sister...” Her tongue came out and moistened her lips. “It’s abaout my sister — and her ’usband... Y’see, sir, I’ve jest found aout ’e’s deceivin’ ’er like, an’ I’m the only person what knows.” She gathered impetus now she was fairly launched. “But the funny thing is — an’ it’s why I don’t rightly knaow what to do — the funny thing is that what ’e’s doin’ to deceive ’er is mykin’ ’er ’appy... Naow, my problem, like you call it, is did I oughter tell my sister? Or did I oughter leave well alone. I’m fair bewildered-like, tryin’ to think what to do...”
“You are entangled, madame,” said Doctor Alcazar, placing his elbows on the table and making an arch of his hands, “in a most unusual psychotic web...” His hands slowly raised themselves and covered his eyes. His voice became the throbbing monotone again.
“There are widely differentiated kamas here,” said the monotone. “There are twisted skeins ahead... Two paths before you... They are clouded... I see you taking one — then the other... But what is this? At the end of each path is the same figure, awaiting you... And in this figure lies the solution... You need make no decision — you may follow either path — for the result is the same...”
Doctor Alcazar took his hands from his eyes, sat back in his chair, and rested the hands on its arms. It was a decisive, final attitude, and hardly ever failed to denote the end of a delineation.
But this client was unusual. She stared at Doctor Alcazar, and her mouth began to tremble. She said, “Is that all, sir?” — and Doctor Alcazar, bowing in assent, rose to his feet.
He stepped to the entrance of the tent and raised the door-flap. He cast a glance outside — and saw two possibilities and allowed them to see him.
His current client rose slowly from her chair as he waited for her. She fumbled with her purse, pulling out a crumpled dollar bill. She said, “But couldn’t you tell me what’s going to ’appen, sir. I mean each waylike...”
There were tears in her eyes now and somewhat to his surprise Doctor Alcazar felt faintly sorry for her. He relieved her of the bill and led her to the entrance to the tent.
“Madame,” he said, “I could advise you more fully if you told me the truth, instead of pretending your dilemma concerned your sister.” He checked interruption with an upraised hand. “No accurate reading of the future can be based upon falsehood. Why not return later for another consultation — after you have decided upon frankness?”
She continued to gaze up at him raptly, an excellent advertisement. She breathed, “Oh, thank you, sir! That’s jest what I’ll do!”
And then she said, “I’m sorry abaout not tellin’ the truth, reely I am!” — and hurried away.