"But I am! I'll prove it. I happen to know that that palmist person, Granthope, was here this afternoon and you spent half an hour with him. How's that?"
"How do you know?" She awoke to a greater interest.
"You don't seem to realize that I make it my business to know all about you. This came by accident, though. I was on the Hyde Street car and I saw him get off and come in here. I waited at the end of the road till he went back. Now, what if I should tell your father that you have been entertaining a faking palmist here, on the sly?" He leaned back and folded his hands.
Clytie rose swiftly and walked to the door without a look at him.
"Father," she called, "Mr. Cayley has something to say to you."
"Never mind," Cayley protested. "That was merely an experiment."
Mr. Payson, in overcoat and silk hat, thrust a mildly expectant head in the room.
"It was only about the trade dollar business," said Cayley. "I'll tell you some other time."
Mr. Payson withdrew, scenting no mischief, and Clytie sat down without a word.
"Thought you'd call my bluff, did you?" said Cayley, unruffled. "I like spirit!"