“Why, Miss Ames, how do you do?” and the man who had so interested the beholders of his feat in Newark came forward to greet her. “Come right into my office,” and he led her to an inner room. “Now, what’s it all about?” The cheery reception set his visitor at ease, and she drew a long breath of relief as she settled herself in the chair he offered. “Oh, Mr. Hanlon, I’m so frightened--or, at least, I was. It’s all so noisy and confusing down here! Why, I haven’t been downtown in New York for twenty years!” “That so? Then I must take you up on our roof and show you a few of the skyscrapers--” “No, no, I’ve not time for anything like that. Oh, Mr. Hanlon--you--have you read in the papers of our--our trouble?” “Yes,” and the young man spoke gravely, “I have, Miss Ames. Just a week ago to-day, wasn’t it?” “Yes; and they’re no nearer a solution of the mystery than ever. And, oh, Mr. Hanlon, they’re still suspecting Eunice--Mrs. Embury--and I must save her! She didn’t do it--truly she didn’t, and--I think I did.” “What!” “Yes, I truly think so. But I wasn’t myself, you know--I was--hypnotized--” “Hypnotized! By whom?” “I don’t know--by some awful person who wanted Sanford dead, I suppose.” “But that’s ridiculous, Miss Ames--” “No, it isn’t. I’m a very easy subject--” “Have you ever been hypnotized?” “Not very successfully. But no real hypnotizer ever tried it. I’m sure, though, I’d be a perfect subject--I’m so--so psychic, you know--” “Bosh and nonsense! You know, Miss Ames, what I think of that sort of thing! You know how I played on people’s gullibility when I used to do that fake ‘thought-transference’--” “I know, Mr. Hanlon,” and Miss Ames was very earnest, “but, and this is why I’m here--you told me that in all the foolery and hocus-pocus there was, you believed, two per cent of genuine telepathy--two per cent of genuine communication with spirits of the dead.” “But I said that merely in a general way, Miss Ames. I didn’t mean to say it was a proven proposition--” “That isn’t the point--you told me there were a few--a very few real, sincere mediums--now I’m here to get the address of the best one you know of. I want to go to him--or her--and have a séance, and I want to get into communication with Sanford--with Mr. Embury’s spirit, and learn from him who killed him. It’s the only way we can ever find out.” Miss Ames’ gray eyes took on a strange look; she seemed half hypnotized at the moment, as she looked at Hanlon. He moved uncomfortably under her gaze. “Well,” he said, at length, “I can give you the address of the best--the only real medium I know. That I will do with pleasure, but I cannot guarantee his bringing about a materialization of--of Mr. Embury.” “Never mind about materialization, if he can get in touch and get a message for me. You see--I haven’t said much about this--but Mr. Embury’s spirit appeared to me as--as he died.” “What?”