“That’s the specialty of this firm. I’m only learning, but it strongly appeals to me. It’s really more of an art than a trade. Now, as to this man you want to see, Miss Ames, I’ll give you his address, but I beg of you to think it over before you visit him. Consult with some one—not Mrs. Embury—some man, of good judgment and clear mind. Who is advising you?”
“Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Elliott—you saw them both the day you were at our house—they advise my niece and myself in all matters. Shall I ask them?”
Miss Abby was pathetic in her simple inquiry, and Hanlon spoke gently as he replied.
“Yes, if you are determined to try the experiment. But I do not advise you to see Mr. Marigny, the medium I spoke of. Here is the address, but you talk it over with those two men you mentioned. I know they are both practical, logical business men, and their advice on the subject will be all right. I thank you, Miss Ames, for honoring me with a call. I hope if you do go to see Marigny, it will prove a satisfactory séance, but I also hope you will decide not to go. You are, as I said, too emotional, too easily swayed by the supernatural to go very deeply into those mysteries. Shall I take you to the elevator?”
“If you please, Mr. Hanlon,” and still in that half oblivious mood, Miss Ames allowed herself to be led through the halls.
Hanlon went down with her, for he feared to leave her to her own devices. He was relieved to find she had a taxicab in waiting, and as he put her into it, he cautioned the driver to take his fare straight home.
“But I want to go to Marigny’s now,” objected Miss Ames, as she heard what Hanlon said.
“Oh, you can’t. You must make an appointment with him—by mail or by telephone. And, too, you promised me you’d put it up to Mr. Hendricks or Mr. Elliott first.”
“So I did,” and the old head nodded submissively, as the taxi drove away.
When Ferdinand admitted Aunt Abby to the Embury home, she heard voices in the living-room that were unmistakably raised in anger.