The Case of the Barking Clock by Harry Stephen Keeler & Hazel Goodwin Keeler

Author:Harry Stephen Keeler & Hazel Goodwin Keeler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, detective, sleuth, murder, classic
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2017-03-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER V

Puzzled Journalist

The woman was going at Wynstaby, as he spoke, with a helpless hurt look. She was still gazing at him, his ten shillings even still untouched, as he went out the door, somehow hating his journalistic work. For he would have sworn he had slapped the very soul of someone who had truly seen something—someone—something of far-a-way places—who had really been in a state of transcendant vision of some sort—instead of having been the cheap swindler he was going to have to make her out to be in his series.

And he was still thinking uneasily, troubledly, of the whole eerie episode, as he waited for a city-bound bus near the corner of White Horse Lane. He scratched his head puzzledly, helplessly, harking back to the amazing detailedness of her trance-vision—its hyperobjective reality.

And now, like a tidal wave, strange unconnected bits of information and hearsay he had acquired during his long journalistic career were flowing together in his brain—examples of strange and unexplainable psychic phenomena, said to have occurred in India—in history—examples of “vision” that transcended ordinary vision; examples of—

Indeed, because of the very spell he was casting upon himself at this very second, and because, also, so vivid had been the picture Madame Milly White had conjured up, that, as he waited for the bus to come along and take him back to his typewriter in Fleet Street and the hungry linotypes, yawning, waiting even now for Article Number I, he said aloud—but to absolutely nobody at all:

“I hate like the very devil to put her into the series, for she is—must be—genuine—the one genuine psychic of them all. For the photograph that Mr. T. T. Trotter enclosed today in that envelope—and taken, he said on the back of it, in some studio near where he’s staying—is ab-so-lutely—to the T!—that of the purely visionary man she described. Damn such a life! To have to include a genuine psychic with the quacks. Damn!”

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