She walked three blocks. Her blood cooled. Her heart resumed its normal beat. She was in a mood for thought. What did Madame Zaran know? Did she know all? There had been a little in her column that day, the column “Looking Into The Future,” that was about Madame Zaran’s place and her methods. No names were mentioned, no address given. It was written only as an amusing incident.
“And of course my name was not signed. It never is,” Florence thought to herself. “How could she know that I conduct that column? And yet—” Here truly was food for thought.
“Jeanne,” she said as, two hours later, they sat reading beside a studio light, “these fortune tellers have an uncanny way of finding out all about you. That black priestess today told June all about herself. And yet, she had never seen her before. Jeanne had made an appointment over the phone, that was all. I don’t believe in black magic, though I did see something very like a black ghost. But how do they do it?”
“How can they do it?” Jeanne echoed.
“I’ve got a notion!” Florence exclaimed. “We’ll try it out on one of the fortune tellers of the simpler sort, you and I. What do you say?”
“Anything for a little happy adventure,” Jeanne laughed.
“All right, it’s a go! We’ll start it tomorrow. And finish it, perhaps, the next day.”
“My dear, I am intrigued!” Jeanne threw back her head to indulge a merry laugh.
Florence was glad that someone in the world could laugh. As for herself, she felt that things were getting rather too thick for comfort. She felt that somehow she was approaching an hour of testing, perhaps a crisis. When would the testing come? Tomorrow? Next day? In a week? A month? Who could say? Meanwhile, she could but carry on.