“Why did you not have a show-up at once?” asked Lord Roxton.
“There were several ladies there, and I was the only really able-bodied man in the room.”
“Well, what do you propose?”
“I have appointed that he come here at three-thirty. He is due now. Unless he has noticed the small cut in his linen, I don’t think he has any suspicion why I want him.”
“What will you do?”
“Well, that depends on him. We have to stop him at any cost. That is the way our Cause gets bemired. Some villain who knows nothing about it comes into it for money and so the labours of honest mediums get discounted. The public very naturally brackets them all together. With your help I can talk to this fellow on equal terms which I certainly could not do if I were alone. By Jove! here he is!”
There was a heavy step outside. The door was opened and Silas Linden, fake medium and ex-prizefighter, walked in. His small piggy grey eyes under their shaggy brows looked round with suspicion at the three men. Then he forced a smile and nodded to Mailey.
“Good day, Mr. Mailey. We had a good evening last night, had we not?”
“Sit down, Linden,” said Mailey, indicating a chair. “It’s about last night that I want to talk to you. You cheated us.”
Silas Linden’s heavy face flushed red with anger.