pirit
control took fuller possession of his earthly shell and as his visions
resolved themselves into clearer outline. "See! He swears an oath to
avenge. And now--the scene changes. Everything dissolves. I'm in a
mansion; and the red-haired woman comes toward me. Over her head floats
that skeleton--"

Dave broke in crisply. "All right! Let's get down to cases. What's on
your mind, Strange?"

The psychic simulated a shudder--a painful contortion, such as any one
might suffer if rudely jerked out of the spirit world.

"Eh? What was I--? There! You've broke the connection," he declared.
"Did I tell you anything?"

"No. But evidently you can."

"I'm sorry. They never come back."

"Rot!"

Phil was hurt, indignant. With some stiffness he explained the danger
of interrupting a seance of this sort, but Law remained obdurate.

"You can put over that second-sight stuff with the Greasers," he
declared, sharply, "but not with me. So, Jose Sanchez has been to see
you and you want to warn me. Is that it?"

"I don't know any such party," Strange protested. He eyed his caller
for a moment; then with an abrupt change of manner he complained: "Say,
Bo! What's the matter with you? I've got a reputation to protect, and I
do things my own way. I'm getting set to slip you something, and you
try to make me look like a sucker. Is that any way to act?"

"I prefer to talk to you when your eyes are open. I know all about--"

"You don't know nothing about anything," snapped the other. "Jose's got
it in for Mrs. Austin."

"You said you didn't know him."

"Well, I don't. He's never been to see me in his life, but--his
sweetheart has. Rosa Morales comes regular."

"Rosa! Jose's sweetheart!"

"Yes. Her and Jose have joined out together since you shot Panfilo, and
they're framing something."

"What, for instance?"

The fortune-teller hesitated. "I only wish I knew," he said, slowly.
"It looks to me like a killing."

Dave nodded. "Probably is. Jose would like to get me, and of course the
girl--"

"Oh, they don't aim to get you. You ain't the one they're after."

"No? Who then?"

"I don't know nothing definite. In this business, you understand, a
fellow has to put two and two together. Sometimes I have to make one
and two count four. I have to tell more'n I'm told; I have to shoot my
game on the wing, for nobody tells me any more'n they dast. All the
same, I'm sure Jose ain't carving no epitaph for you. From what I've
dug ou