"

"Three stories--three or four servants, I suppose."

"That's good; I'll enjoy it; I never had a chance at _that_!"

"Remember you must get the place from the other applicants."

"If my mediumship hasn't taught me enough to git me a plain job, it
hasn't taught me nothin'," responded Rosalie.

"Then it's as good as done," answered the young man. "Shall I pay you
now or later? Mrs. Markham's salary will be your tip."

"It's a good paymaster that pays when the job's got," answered Rosalie.
Her sitter rose, as though to go.

"Confidences is like love," said Rosalie, "first sight or not for ten
years. Here I've opened my whole bag of tricks, and yours is locked
tight. Don't you think you might tell me your name?"

The young man reached for a card.

"Dr. Blake," he said as he fumbled.

"Walter Huntington Blake, Curfew Club," corrected Rosalie.

His hands dropped, and he stared.

"How--how--"

"Spirits--my kind." Rosalie extended her hand. In it rested his little
card case. "Excuse me. I done it just to show you I wasn't _quite_ a
darn fool, if I do tell everything I know to a stranger. Now don't get
silly an' think from this marvelous demonstration that I've been givin'
you a con talk. It's just a lesson not to take your card case along
when you visit a medium. It's a proof that I can expose Mrs. Markham if
there 's anything to expose. Good-by Dr. Blake, and good luck."

[Illustration: "THEN IT'S AS GOOD AS DONE"]

The following Wednesday, at eight o'clock in the morning, a messenger
boy woke Mme. Le Grange by prolonged knocking. He passed in this note:

Answer early the third advertisement, third column, sixth page, in
the _Herald_ Help Wanted column. From the address, I know it is
Mrs. M.'s.

W.H. BLAKE.

VII

ROSALIE'S FIRST REPORT

Rosalie Le Grange, upon assuming her position as housekeeper in the
Markham establishment, had written Dr. Blake that Tuesday was her
afternoon out, and suggesting that he meet her every Tuesday afternoon
at three in the ladies' parlor of the old Hotel Greenwich, which lay
far from main lines of traffic and observation. So they sat on the
faded velvets of the Greenwich that fall afternoon, heads together in
close conference.

"You're wastin' your money," began Rosalie.

"Tell me about Miss Markham first," he interrupted; "is she well?"

"As well as she ever is--that girl's far from strong. The more I think
of this job"--she reverted to her