ore of her coincidences and to wink at her failures.
We _are_ so liable to be led away by our feelings in these matters.
Sibyl was large, had eaten onions, and would have been improved if she
had brushed her hair, and so I am afraid I rather grudged the somewhat
exorbitant fee which the fat-handed man--not Sibyl--took and pocketed in
an interval of his dental pursuit, and I passed out from that suburban
lodging, none of us, I fancy, very well satisfied with one another. I
have an idea I unconsciously expressed my inner feelings of
disappointment with Sibyl and something stronger in reference to her
male companion.

CHAPTER XLV.

SPIRITUALISTS AND CONJURERS.

"How it's done" is the question which, in the words of Dr. Lynn, we want
to settle with reference to his own or kindred performances, and, still
more, in the production of the phenomena known as spiritual. I have
spent some years of my existence in a hitherto vain endeavour to solve
the latter problem; and the farther I go, the more the mystery seems to
deepen. Of late, the two opposed parties, the Spiritualists and the
Conjurers, have definitely entered the arena, and declared war to the
knife. Each claims to be Moses, and denounces the others as mere
magicians. Mr. Maskelyne holds a dark seance, professing to expose the
spiritualistic ones; Dr. Lynn brandishes against them his strong right
arm upon which is written in letters all of blood the name of one's
deceased grandmother, while, in return, Dr. Sexton exposes the
conjurers, and spoils one's enjoyment of a hitherto enjoyable evening,
by showing "how it's done"--how the name of one's departed relative is
forged and painted early in the afternoon, instead of "coming out" on
the spot--and in spots--like measles or nettle-rash (as we feel defunct
relations ought to come) or walking in and out of the corded box at
pleasure, and even going so far as to give the address of the clever
mechanist down a by-street near Notting-hill Gate, who will make the
mysterious packing case to order in return for a somewhat heavy
"consideration."

I accepted Dr. Lynn's invitation to be present on his "opening night;"
and wondered, in passing, why everybody should not make their cards of
invitation such thorough works of art as his. Now I am going to do
even-handed justice all the way round; and I must say that Dr. Lynn's
experiment of fastening his attendant to a sort of penitential stool
with copper wire, surrounded by