inslow, pretty late; nearly ten o'clock," replied the
detective, looking at his watch.

"The later the better," she replied earnestly. "I want to use those
herrings."

"Use those herrings! Why, there are at least two dozen. How on earth
will you use them all?"

"Some of these humbug mediums," replied Mrs. Winslow in a style of
expression that showed her to be very familiar with the Spiritualists,
"or old Lyon himself, have sent me these things. I'm going to adorn the
door knob of every one of their places with a string of herrings. In
that way I'll hit the right one sure. Come, won't you go?"

Bristol saw that the woman would go anyhow, and fearing that she might
get into some trouble that would cause her arrest and thus expose him
and Bristol to public notice, which a capable detective will always
avoid, consented to accompany the woman, which so pleased her that she
immediately sent out for brandy, and not only imbibed an inordinate
amount of it herself, but also pressed it upon Bristol unsparingly.

Her mind seemed filled with the idea that Lyon had become the "affinity"
of nearly every female medium of prominence in the city in order to
further his designs against her; and to remind them that they were
watched, she had Bristol write "Lyon-La Motte," "Lyon-Roberts," "Lyon-
----," etc., upon about a half-dozen couples of herrings, and upon all
the rest, save those intended for the Misses Grim, which were labelled
"Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah," she had written the names of the
different ladies who, in her imagination, had supplanted her, and tied
all the herrings so labelled together with one very dilapidated herring
marked "Lyon." It is needless to say that the latter bundle of sarcasm
was intended for the ornamentation of Mr. Lyon's residence.

Bristol felt like a very bad thief, and Mrs. Winslow acted like a very
foolish one. The moment they gained the street she began a series of
absurd performances that well-nigh distracted Bristol and greatly
increased the danger of police surveillance. She laughed hysterically,
chuckled, and expressed her delight in a noisy effort to repress it,
until the tears would roll down her face. Occasionally they would meet
or pass parties who knew her, who would say to companions, in the tone
and manner with which they would have probably spoken of other
sensations, "There's the Winslow!" when she would shrink and shudder up
to Bristol's side, begging for the shelter and protectio