The Clairvoyant Curse Read Online Free PDF

born.”
    Madame Moghra unfolded and
refolded her ankles. It was like watching a python shape-shifting,
the serpentine vertebrae appeared to stretch and contract from end
to end.
    “You are well-versed in the
classics,” the Empress praised, settling back into the divan with
reptilian elegance, intuiting a battle royal for the heart and mind
and soul of this vanity-driven Slav.
    But vanity was a double-edged
sword. The Countess possessed enough of it to never need be swayed
by the flattery of others. She found flattery to be unconvincing
and ultimately demeaning. Her insincere response was thus always
the same – sincerely given.
    “Thank you, my step-aunt was
also a great believer in education.”
    Madame Moghra found something
in the aristocratic tone that jarred with her spiritual
sensibilities. “Did you enjoy our little performance tonight?”
    “Yes, it was very
entertaining.”
    “I hope it was also
educational.”
    “Oh, certainly, all
entertainment is educational.”
    “Perhaps you also found it
enlightening?”
    “Of course, bien sur ,
that goes without saying.”
    “Are you familiar with magic
lanterns?”
    “Not at all. Tonight was my
introduction to the wonder of the camera obscura. Your operator, Mr
Ffrench, appeared to handle the intricacies of the tri-unal device
with admirable skill.”
    “He is quite the lantern
magician,” purred the lioness.
    “May I ask who trained him?”
intervened Dr Watson, who had been holding himself together rather
stiffly, but decided to loosen up now that the colloquy had shifted
to a safer topic closer to his scientific heart.
    “He is self-trained.”
    The doctor was impressed. “Not
an easy discipline to master?”
    “His background is similar to
your own, Dr Watson. He has a medical degree and is a sceptic.”
    The second wound was inflicted
before the doctor had time to duck and weave.
    “He is not too bad at the piano
either,” interjected the Countess, noting how her counterpart
flinched.
    “He is a valuable asset to our
spiritual menagerie,” agreed the Empress magisterially.
    The maid finished folding the
satin gowns and silk petticoats that had been hanging over the
backs of chairs, packing them carefully into a large travelling
trunk. She curtsied at her exalted mistress in an effort to catch
her basilisk eye.
    “Sissy,” instructed the
Pythoness, “inform Mr Ffrench to bring some champagne, a bottle of
the Chateau D’Yquem and three glasses.”
    “Tonight was your final
performance in York,” observed the Countess, noting the leather
trunks lined up along the wall by the door. “You will soon be
moving on?”
    “Yes,” confirmed the chimera.
“Tomorrow we rest and then the day after that we travel by train to
Glasgow.”
    “Will you stay long in
Glasgow?” asked the doctor, having recovered from his flesh
wound.
    “One night.”
    “So you don’t intend to do any
shows in the land of the superstitious Celts?” he pursued.
    “We have been touring non-stop
for thirteen months. We are all exhausted. There is a Spiritualist
Congress in Biarritz next week. We will take a short break there.
Some sea air and a daily promenade along the boardwalk will do
wonders for our psyches. We can mingle with others of our ilk and
prepare ourselves for our next tour.”
    “Where does the next tour take
you?” the Countess pitched.
    “The United States of America.
We are always well received in the land of Hope and Glory.”
    “It is fortunate we came
tonight, then,” said the Countess, broaching the reason for their
visit. “We have a gift from Lady Moira Cruddock. She was hoping to
attend one of your performances here in York but unforeseen
circumstances made it impossible for her to travel. The gift is
valuable. We did not bring it with us. Perhaps we can arrange a
mutually convenient time to meet tomorrow?”
    Snake eyes gleamed in the
golden candlelight. “How very kind of Lady Moira to remember me! As
it happens, I am hosting a small