"God bless us!" he exclaimed in a shocked voice. "Is that so? Well, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. Well—well—well! Mrs. Del Garmo! I certainly am sorry."
He looked curiously about him, shaking his head, and an absent expression came into his white-bearded face—which changed to lively interest when his eyes fell on the table where the crystal stood mounted between the prongs of the bronze tripod.
"No doubt," he said, looking at Athalie, "you are Mrs. Del Garmo's successor in the occult profession. I notice a crystal on the table."
And in that instant the inspiration came to the girl, and she took it with the coolness and ruthlessness of last resort.
"What is it you wish?" she asked calmly, "a reading?"
He hesitated, looking at her out of aged but very honest eyes; and in a moment she was at his mercy, and the game had gone against her. She said, while the hot colour slowly stained her face: "I have never read a crystal. I had not thought of succeeding Mrs. Del Garmo until now—this moment."
"What is your name, child?" he asked in a gently curious voice.
"Athalie Greensleeve."
"You are not a trance-medium?"