ove," observed Bubbles in a
business-like tone; "but we are likely to obtain much better results if
we blow out the candles. The firelight will be quite enough."

And then, to everyone's surprise, Miss Burnaby spoke. Her voice was
gentle and fretful. "I thought that there always had to be a medium at a
seance," she observed; "when I went with a friend of mine to what she
called a Circle, there was a medium there, and we each paid her
half-a-crown."

"Of course there must be a medium," said Bubbles quickly. "And _I_ am
going to be the medium this time, Miss Burnaby; but it will be all free
and for nothing--I always do it for love!"

Varick looked at his young guest with a good deal of gratitude. He had
never numbered himself among the girl's admirers. To him Bubbles was
like a caricature of her aunt. But now he told himself that there was
something to say, after all, for this queer younger generation who dare
everything! He supposed that Bubbles was going to entertain them with a
clever exhibition of brilliant acting. Lionel Varick was no mean actor
himself, and it was as connoisseur, as well as expert, that he admired
the gift when it was practised by others.

Spiritualism, table-turning, and fortune-telling--he bracketed them all
together in his own mind--had never interested him in the least. But he
realized dimly what a wonderful chance this new fashionable craze--for
so he regarded it--gives to the charlatan. He had always felt an
attraction to that extraordinary eighteenth century adventurer,
Cagliostro, and to-night he suddenly remembered a certain passage in
Casanova's memoirs.... He felt rather sorry that they hadn't planned
out this--this seance, before the rest of the party had arrived. He
could have given Bubbles a few "tips" which would have made her task
easy, and the coming seance much more thrilling.

The company ranged themselves four on each side.

Miss Burnaby sat on one side of the fireplace, her brother on the other.
Next to the old lady was Sir Lyon; then Helen Brabazon; last their host.

On the opposite side, next to Mr. Burnaby, sat the fat-visaged James
Tapster; by him was Blanche Farrow, looking on the proceedings with a
certain cynical amusement and interest, and next to Blanche, and nearest
to where Bubbles had now established herself on one of those low chairs
which in England is called a nursery chair, and in France a _prie-dieu_,
was young Donnington. He, alone of the people there, l