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"Insane asylum," said Elizabeth, shortly. "Precisely. So in Paris with the rest of us," said Cassandra. "How do you know all this?" asked Trilby, still unconvinced. "I know it just as you knew how to become a prima donna," said Cassandra. "I am, however, my own Svengali, which is rather preferable to the patent detachable hypnotizer you had. I hypnotize myself, and direct my mind into the future.
He remembered Elkin's make-up as Svengali, of course, and could have kicked himself for not associating earlier a set of sable whiskers with the black wig and the bullet-torn hat. But, Owd Ben! What figure did that redoubtable ghost cut in the mystery? "There are certain lacunae in your otherwise vigorous and thrilling story, constable," went on Hart.
It was truly a miracle, how the whirling and roaring ceased, and peace came back to me; it must have shown in my face, for the moving picture critic of the Western City "Times" stood watching me with a quizzical smile playing over his face. I could read his thoughts, as well as if he had uttered them: "Regular Svengali stuff, by God!" I was so comfortable there, I did not care what happened.
Svengali has also fallen by the wayside, a number of characters have been very happily forgotten, so the story drags along to the close on three not very attractive legs, Taffy, the Laird and Gecko. It is a bad drama worse staged, with an ignorant bawd for heroine, a weak little thing for leading man, an impossible Caliban for heavy villain and Atheism for moral.
She was quite defiant till Clarke reminded her that her guide would cut her down in her tracks if she refused. Then she wilted went right off into death-like sleep. It was pitiful to see her. Clarke was terrible when he said it he is a regular Svengali, I believe, and the mother is completely dominated by him. One of the spooks is her own father, the other her first husband.
You know you didn't that it was nearer half past eleven when you reached this house. Consider what that discrepancy alone might have meant if Scotland Yard failed to take your measure correctly. Then add the fact that the murderer wore the hat, wig, and whiskers in which you made a guy of yourself while filling the rôle of Svengali last winter.
"Insane asylum," said Elizabeth, shortly. "Precisely. So in Paris with the rest of us," said Cassandra. "How do you know all this?" asked Trilby, still unconvinced. "I know it just as you knew how to become a prima donna," said Cassandra. "I am, however, my own Svengali, which is rather preferable to the patent detachable hypnotizer you had. I hypnotize myself, and direct my mind into the future.
His face was grave and his voice sad. "Not a thing! My Svengali pass didn't work. I was as the idle wind to her. Therefore, I withdrew and 'phoned the police." "What an extraordinary thing," said Ben. Mrs. Congdon brightly answered: "It would be for any one else, but I'm so used to that now I don't mind.
Such is the wonderful work that has given this alleged land of intelligence a case of literary mania a potu, set it to singing the praises of a grimy grisette more melodiously than she warbled, "mironton, mirontaine" at the bidding of the villainous Svengali.
It would be the supernaculum of the commonplace, and prove the author to be the lobscouse of literature, the loblolly of letters. The churches want to enroll members, and so desperate is the situation that they are willing to get them at the price of self-respect. Hence come Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Chapman, and play Svengali to our Trilby.
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