Otis had been tempted to visit this house, as I said before, by a natural strong passion, but that would have been insufficient, had not a sort of Paul Pry friend told him of the delinquency of one of his flock, and urged him to watch him. He did so, saw him enter the house with a woman, certainly not his wife, charged him afterwards, with a view to his reformation, and was met with a plump denial of the character of the place, and even threatened with exposure of his attempt to watch and pry into other peoples' business. Goaded with such an accusation, he retorted upon his informer, and he in his turn reiterated the charge, and urged Otis to "call on a professional (that is pastoral) visit," and satisfy himself. This he did, and found the house most genteelly and richly furnished; the owner, "a widow, living," she said, "upon the interest of money in bank,"--she meant the interest of bankers' money--a very modest, genteel lady, very much pleased to have him call, and begged him to repeat the visit "some afternoon or evening when the young ladies, her nieces and daughter, would be at home, and if he was fond of music, they would play for him, and one of them could sing beautifully." She could sing the "Mermaid's song." He was completely deceived. Who might not be by such a siren? The truth is, that her penetrating eye had seen at a glance quite down into his very secret thoughts, and that he possessed passions which she could inflame and turn to account, and she laid all her plans to that end. Although satisfied, after one or two visits, that all the inmates of the house were correct, he had his suspicions aroused as to those who visited them, for he could not help noticing the fact, that while he was there one evening, there were no less than five calls, apparently of couples, who were received in a dark hall, with whispered words, and then went upstairs, and after awhile went out in the same quiet way. Twice, he saw through the crack of the door that the ladies were veiled with thick dark veils, such as we meet every day upon the Broadway side-walk. But the most convincing thing of all, was an incautious word spoken aloud by one of the visitors as Mrs. Laylor was letting him out. He knew the voice. It was the man whose conduct had led him first to this house. Then he was so well satisfied, that he told Mrs. Laylor his suspicions, and she acknowledged that she did sometimes let a room to a gentleman and lady, but to none except persons of the highest respectability, such as himself, for instance. That was a cue. He took it and fell into the snare. She agreed "for a consideration," to introduce him to one of the most respectable ladies, upon the understanding that she was to remain closely veiled,--as the whole proceeding was to be veiled from the Argus eyes of the world.