l women knew, as she so well knew, the appearance of
police feet.

"No 'm, not specially," said Hattie.

"Well, you'd 'a' noticed," said Rosalie, covering up quickly. "The
gentleman I don't want to see has a club foot--show him up, dearie."

As Madame Le Grange sat down by the wicker center table and composed
her features to professional calm, she was thinking:

"If he's a new sitter, I'll have to stall. There's nothing as hard to
bite into as a young man dope."

The expected knock came. Entered the new sitter--him whom we know as
Dr. Walter Huntington Blake, but a stranger to Rosalie. During the
formal preliminaries--in which Dr. Blake stated simply that he wanted a
sitting and expressed himself as willing to pay two dollars for full
trance control--Rosalie studied him and mapped her plan of action.
There was, indeed, "nothing to bite into." His shapely clothes bore
neither fraternity pin nor society button; his face was comparatively
inexpressive; to her attempts at making him chatter, he returned but
polite nothings. Only one thing did she "get" before she assumed
control. When she made him hold hands to "unite magnetisms," his finger
rested for a moment on the base of her palm. She put that little detail
aside for further reference, and slid gently into "trance," making the
most, as she assumed the slumber pose, of her profile, her plump,
well-formed arms, her slender hands. This sitter was "refined"; not for
him the groans and contortions of approaching control which so
impressed factory girls and shopkeepers.

Peeping through her long eyelashes, she noted that his face, while
turned upon her in close attention, was without visible emotion.

"I must fish," she thought as she began the preliminary gurgles which
heralded the coming of Laughing Eyes, her famous Indian child
control--"I wonder if I've got to tell him that the influence won't
work to-day and I can't get anything? Maybe I'd better."

A long silence, broken here and there by guttural gurglings; then
Laughing Eyes babbled tentatively:

"John--Will--Will--" she choked here, as though trying to add a
syllable which she could not clearly catch. And at this point, Rosalie
took another look through her eyelashes. She had touched something! He
was leaning forward; his mouth had opened. Before she could follow up
her advantage, he had thrown himself wide open.

"Wilfred--is it Wilfred?" he asked.

Laughing Eyes was far too clever a spirit to take imm