She gave him her hands, and he took them for a moment, then flung himself away before their delicacy could work on him. With a sudden smile, he turned to the door and was gone.
She stood, limp and weak, watching him till the door closed. Then the cuckoo-clock broke the silence with its interminable midnight clatter, persistent, maddening.
CHAPTER XXI
THE SUNRISE
Clytie met her father, next morning, showing no trace of what she had suffered during the night. He himself had enough to think about without noticing her demeanor.
On Saturday the papers had, after considerable investigation of the matter, called public attention to the doings of spiritualistic mediums in San Francisco, and were full of exposures. Vixley's record was given, and it was sensational enough to make it advisable for the Professor to leave town till the scandal blew over. Flora Flint was reported to have fled at the same time, and, it was presumed, in the same direction. Other mediums not concerned in this affair were interviewed, and pseudo-confessions extorted from their dupes. The Spiritualistic Society protested in vain that none of the mediums exposed had ever been in good standing with that body of true believers—the wave of gossip drowned its voice. San Francisco was the largest spiritualistic community in the United States, probably in the world, but, for a while at least, it would be less easy for clairvoyants and psychometrists to earn a living. This outburst was one of the periodic upheavals of reform, but the talk would soon die down and business would be resumed in perfect safety by the charlatans. There would be a new crop of dupes to cajole.
Clytie and her father both avoided the subject. Breakfast passed silently, and at nine o'clock Mr. Payson left the house. Clytie went about her work automatically; answered a few letters, listlessly rearranged her jewelry in its casket, sorted the leaves of a book she had taken apart to rebind, cut the pages of a magazine, set her tools in order on the bench. From time to time she went to the front window to look out, returning to stand for minutes at a time in the center of the room, as if she had forgotten what she had intended to do. At ten o'clock she lay down upon the couch in the library and fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion, the first rest she had obtained since midnight.
She was awakened by the door-bell, and had barely time to hurry into her chamber before the door was answered. There, word was brought to her that Mr. Cayley wished to see her. She bathed her eyes, smoothed her hair, put on her Chinese sa'am, and a jade necklace over her house-frock and went down to him. Her face was resolutely set, her eyes had a cold luster.
"How d'you do, Blan?" she said, holding out her hand to him. "I'm so glad to see you!"
It was a warmer greeting than he had received for some time, but he did not appear surprised. He drew off his gloves, looking admiringly at her.