down abruptly.

Bulger did not miss this shift of the new Norcross back toward the old,
iron, inscrutable Norcross whom the world knew. The next remark he
directed against that aspect of his man.

"It's all right," said Bulger, "if you want to follow that line."
During the short pause which ensued, he thought and felt intensely.
Working under the direction of a mind infinitely his superior for
intrigue and subtlety, he had instruction to play gently upon the
Norcross contrariety, the Norcross habit of rejecting advice. This, if
ever, seemed the time. With a bold hand, he laid his counter upon the
board. "Just one thing to be careful about--of course, it's a mouse
trying to steer a lion for me to advise you--but watch those people,
when they get on the subject of business. Sometimes they work people,
you know."

Norcross's face, fixed on the third monument from the south door of Old
Trinity, permitted itself the luxury of a slight smile.

"I'm safe there," he responded. "Don't think I haven't tried her
out--put tests of my own. I know what you're thinking about--Marsh and
Diss Debar. I tried at my very first seance to make her talk business
and I've tried it twice since. I couldn't get a single rise out of
_that_. This medium receives from me her regular rate, and no more. I
established that in the beginning. Though I suppose the guides could
advise on business as well as on anything else. But they think about
other things on the other side than this"--his hand swept over Lower
Manhattan--"this money grubbing."

Bulger leaned his elbows on his knees.

"It sounds wonderful," he said.

"Not more wonderful than wireless telegraphy," answered Norcross. "And
the ancients, she says, dreamed of talking with spirits long before
they dreamed of talking to each other across an ocean. We only need an
exceptional force to do it. And Mrs. Markham is that force. You know
the locket I showed you?"

"I promised to forget it."

"Well, remember for a minute. I"--his voice exploded--"I may see her,
Bulger--before the month is over, I may see her!"

Bulger threw himself back in his chair.

"What!" he exclaimed, jumping with an affectation of surprise.

It was as though the sudden motion, the exclamation had touched a
spring in the mind of Norcross, had projected his spirit from that
disintegrating, anaemic cell in his brain to the sound, full-blooded
cells by which he did his daily business. His form, which had seemed
relax