"No," said Clytie faintly.
"There you are, then!" Mr. Payson wagged his head solemnly. "What did I tell you?"
"What else did they say?" Clytie asked anxiously.
"Plenty of things. Things I myself didn't know the truth about till I investigated. Things about my personal affairs, about my past life—oh, so much that I can't help feeling that there's something in this business that we don't understand. Oh!"—he paused for a moment, looking at her—"there was one thing I wanted to ask you about—I forgot to speak of it. It sounded like nonsense, at the time—you know that even spirits are sometimes frivolous and inconsequent—and there were so many other more important communications at the time that it slipped my mind. Vixley's control said something once about a doll that was buried underneath—"
"Oh, I forgot to ring up Mrs. Maxwell," Clytie interrupted, springing up. "I must tell her I'm coming. If I don't do it right away now I may not catch her—it takes so long to get a long distance connection."
She went up to him and putting her arms round his neck, kissed him. "Don't wait, father, if you're in a hurry. Good-by!"
She walked to the door.
"Well, then, I'll go along down-town," he said. "Be sure and write when you get up there."
She left him hurriedly and ran up-stairs.
At ten she was at the ferry, waiting for the boat which connected with the Sacramento train. There was a crowd going, coming and waiting in the long arcade outside. As she approached the ticket office a man was at the window. He was tall, dark-haired, distinguished. At sight of him, Clytie withdrew out of sight, and let him finish his business and leave. Then she approached, bought her ticket, and, watching sharply, dodging behind groups here and there, she succeeded in passing the ticket collector and losing herself in the assembly in the waiting-room without being observed. She wormed her way forward near the gate, and with the first rush of passengers, after the gate was raised, hurried on to the boat and went, immediately into the ladies' room.