Serviss studied the card. "Do I know your father?--is he still in public life?"
"He is not." Britt's glance veered. "The governor, I'm sorry to say, has a weakness for toddy, and I've retired him. He boards in White Plains with Patsy Cline summers, and relapses winters."
Serviss changed the subject. "By-the-way, I want to ask you about this man Clarke. What kind of a chap is he?"
Britt's answer was languid but adequate. "Three parts fakir and the rest fanatic."
"I was afraid so--and the Lamberts, what of them?"
"Mrs. Lambert is a dear old ninny. Viola is a mighty bright girl suffering from a well-developed case of hysteria and auto-hypnosis."
"What do you mean?" asked Serviss, sharply.
Britt checked himself. "I ought not to speak of it, I suppose, but, as you are a stranger and can keep a professional secret, I will explain. The mother is a spiritualist--has been for years--and, being on the lookout for it, naturally discovered what she calls 'mediumship' in Viola when a child. By carefully nursing the delusion in herself and in her subject, she has been able to develop a rare 'up-rush of the subliminal,' as Myers would say. When I came here to take Dr. Randall's practice, I found among his papers elaborate notes on the girl's development."
"You amaze me!" exclaimed Serviss. "She seems so normal and so charming."
"In reality she's the most extraordinary puzzle I have ever undertaken to solve. It seems, according to Randall, that this power came upon her soon after the death of her little brother--a couple of years younger than herself. I'll let you see these notes if you like. They're very curious; in fact, I brought the book along--I wanted your opinion of them and your advice as to the girl's treatment."
Serviss leaned forward in growing interest. "By all means let me see the notes. You begin to throw light on something that puzzled me."
Britt drew a small brown book from his pocket and said: "Your first thought will be to relate this business to hysteria, and one of Randall's first entries is a reflection along these lines: 'There is much inconclusive literature on the shelves of medical libraries on the subject of hysteria, and many diverse ailments are thrown into that box of explanations.'" Britt looked up. "He's right there, but he goes on to slate the medical profession thus: 'The mind of a child, like any other expanding, growing thing, tends to depart from the norm--loves apparently to surprise its progenitors. Holding in its grasp latent tendencies of all ages, of all the race, it may at any time astound by its sudden expansion in unexpected directions, as well as by its inexplicable failure to follow ordained grooves.'" Here Britt paused again. "You can see the old chap was hard hit. He now gets evolutionary. 'We are all goats, satyrs, and serpents potentially--even from the neurologist's point of view our minds are infinitely complex.'"