But Mr. Hurlbut was willing to advance some money, while he held on to the watch, to ferret out Mrs. Seymour. "Perhaps she could settle the matter, or had some relatives who could" he said. My client, too, took courage, and resolved to spend some money in the matter, and I went to work to find Mrs. Seymour. Meanwhile, through the peculiar mark on the bottom of the box, I managed to find out where Mrs. Seymour had purchased it, and learned, as I supposed before, that she had bought two on the same occasion; and, fortunately, I found that she had, when selecting the boxes, occupied a good deal of time, giving the clerk a great deal of vexation, and he felt sure he should know her. Besides, she had offered a counterfeit bill in payment for them; and when informed that the bill was bad, had declared her surprise, and rummaged her purse for good money, without finding enough into twenty-five cents, which she said she would call and pay next day, and so was allowed to take away the boxes. So the clerk thought he should surely know her, although the lady did not call the next day. I tracked Mrs. Seymour from her place in Grand Street, where her sign still remained, and business was carried on by a younger medium, who assumed her name, and divided the spoils with her, probably, over to Brooklyn, down to Philadelphia, where she sold the watch, and up to Boston. Brady, her husband, had gone the rounds with her. I searched every possible place in Boston, and engaged a detective there. I had been able to secure several photographs of the woman, and of her husband, in New York; and with one of these, the Boston detective was able to make her out, he thought, one day. He followed the woman, and at last abandoned the "game," when he found that she was in company with people of high character, and entered with them one of the finest residences in Vernon Street; and, moreover, was told by a servant of the house that she was a Mrs. "_Bradley_," from Portland, Me. He concluded that he was mistaken. We finally learned Brady was not like "Seymour," an assumed name, and that the husband had wealthy relatives in Boston; and then conceiving that the detective might not have been mistaken in supposing he recognized "Mrs. Seymour," we laid siege to the Vernon Street house, till we satisfied ourselves that "Mrs. Bradley" and "Mrs. Seymour" were one and the same. But how did she get there? Boston is full of people, in high rank, who are spiritualists, and who keep "mediums" for themselves, and do not visit the advertising mediums, to be found there in such numbers, even to this day.