e talking now. I must
think. Good night."

"Good night, Mr. Baxter," said the medium serenely.

_Chapter VIII_

I

"Her ladyship told me to show you in here, sir," said the footman at
half-past eight on Sunday evening.

Laurie put down his hat, slipped off his coat, and went into the
dining room.

The table was still littered with dessert-plates and napkins. Two
people had dined there he observed. He went round to the fire,
wondering vaguely as to why he had not been shown upstairs, and stood,
warming his hands behind him, and looking at the pleasant gloom of the
high picture-hung walls.

In spite of himself he felt slightly more excited than he had thought
he would be; it was one thing to be philosophical at a prospect of
three days' distance; and another when the gates of death actually
rise in sight. He wondered in what mood he would see his own rooms
again. Then he yawned slightly--and was a little pleased that it was
natural to yawn.

There was a rustle outside; the door opened, and Lady Laura slipped
in.

"Forgive me, Mr. Baxter," she said. "I wanted to have just a word with
you first. Please sit down a moment."

She seemed a little anxious and upset, thought Laurie, as he sat down
and looked at her in her evening dress with the emblematic chain more
apparent than ever. Her frizzed hair sat as usual on the top of her
head, and her pince-nez glimmered at him across the hearthrug like the
eyes of a cat.

"It is this," she said hurriedly. "I felt I must just speak to you. I
wasn't sure whether you quite realized the ... the dangers of all
this. I didn't want you to ... to run any risks in my house. I should
feel responsible, you know."

She laughed nervously.

"Risks? Would you mind explaining?" said Laurie.

"There ... there are always risks, you know."

"What sort?"

"Oh ... you know ... nerves, and so on. I ... I have seen people very
much upset at _seances_, more than once."

Laurie smiled.

"I don't think you need be afraid, Lady Laura. It's awfully kind of
you; but, do you know, I'm ashamed to say that, if anything, I'm
rather bored."

The pince-nez gleamed.

"But--but don't you believe it? I thought Mr. Vincent said--"

"Oh yes, I believe it; but, you know, it seems to me so natural now.
Even if nothing happens tonight, I don't think I shall believe it any
the less."

She was silent an instant.

"You know there are other risks," she said suddenly.

"What? Are things