"I been thinkin' about that, Mr. Cayley, and I don't know as I ought to have said anything. I'm rather inclined to regret it."
"You have said something, and I've brought this lady down to show the memoranda to her," said Cayley.
"H'm!" Vixley looked her over. "It ain't exactly customary to show things like that, you know."
"We've had all that out before. I'm here to see those cards."
Vixley drew up a rocking-chair for Clytie, and seated himself on the edge of the revolving chair in front of his desk, putting the tips of his long fingers together. "Francis Granthope is a bright young man," he said, "a very bright young man. Very painstaking, and very thorough. I won't say he ain't a leetle bit unscrupulous, however. A man who ain't got no psychic influence behind him has got to do some pretty good guessin'. Now you go to work and take me, with my control, Theodore Parker, and his band o' spirits, I don't need to bother much. I can get all I want out of the other plane. I ain't sayin' nothin' against Granthope, except maybe that he uses methods, sometimes, that ain't exactly legitimate, such as what I was tellin' you about."
"How did he happen to give you these notes?" Clytie asked.
"Why, I s'pose he expected me to give him an equivalent in return. I will say I have helped him out, at times, feelin' rather predisposed toward him, and him bein' a likely chap. But Lord, I don't need his help! And so I told him. In this case I didn't feel called upon to give away none of my client's affairs. Naturally he got a little huffy about it, and he's acted so that I'm inclined to resent it. I can't bear anything like ingratitude."
He opened his desk and took from a pigeonhole two cards. He handed them to Clytie.
"I was tellin' Mr. Cayley, here, I knew about Granthope and his methods. It'll show you what a poor business this palm-readin' reely is. Lord, they ain't nothin' in it at all! If anybody wants to know anything about the future the only way to do is to establish communications with the spirit-plane through the well-known and well-tried methods of spiritualism."
Clytie was not listening. Her eyes were upon the cards. She looked and looked, reading and re-reading, her face set in tense lines, the notes in Granthope's fine, closely written hand. There it was, as he had set it down: