e wife of a business acquaintance. He thought
despairingly that at least such an excursion would be "trying to do
something!" He remembered the woman's name; found it in the telephone
book, and made an appointment.

The experience had been grotesque, and he came away with an
encouraging message from his father, who had failed to identify himself
satisfactorily, but declared that everything was "on a higher plane"
in his present state of being, and that all life was "continuous and
progressive." Mrs. Horner spoke of herself as a "psychic"; but otherwise
she seemed oddly unpretentious and matter-of-fact; and Eugene had
no doubt at all of her sincerity. He was sure that she was not an
intentional fraud, and though he departed in a state of annoyance with
himself, he came to the conclusion that if any credulity were played
upon by Mrs. Horner's exhibitions, it was her own.

Nevertheless, his queer spot having been stimulated to action by
the coincidence of the letters, he went to Mrs. Horner's after his
directors' meeting today. He used the telephone booth in the directors'
room to make the appointment; and he laughed feebly at himself, and
wondered what the group of men in that mahogany apartment would think if
they knew what he was doing. Mrs. Horner had changed her address, but he
found the new one, and somebody purporting to be a niece of hers talked
to him and made an appointment for a "sitting" at five o'clock. He was
prompt, and the niece, a dull-faced fat girl with a magazine under her
arm, admitted him to Mrs. Horner's apartment, which smelt of camphor;
and showed him into a room with gray painted walls, no rug on the floor
and no furniture except a table (with nothing on it) and two chairs: one
a leather easy-chair and the other a stiff little brute with a wooden
seat. There was one window with the shade pulled down to the sill, but
the sun was bright outside, and the room had light enough.

Mrs. Horner appeared in the doorway, a wan and unenterprising looking
woman in brown, with thin hair artificially waved--but not recently--and
parted in the middle over a bluish forehead. Her eyes were small and
seemed weak, but she recognized the visitor.

"Oh, you been here before," she said, in a thin voice, not unmusical. "I
recollect you. Quite a time ago, wa'n't it?"

"Yes, quite a long time."

"I recollect because I recollect you was disappointed. Anyway, you was
kind of cross." She laughed faintly.

"I'm sorry