Prudence suggested that he conceal himself in an entry across the street and keep an eye out for the persons who were coming to visit Arima. He assumed that their coming had something to do with the stolen paper. But he had no way of knowing who the athlete's guests would be. There might be no one among them whom he could recognize. And even if he saw them all go in, how would his own purpose be served by merely watching them? In time, no doubt, they would all come out again, and one of them would have the papers in his possession, and Orme would not know which one. For all he was aware, some of the guests had already arrived. They might even now be gathering with eager eyes about the unfolded documents. No, Orme realized that his place was not on the sidewalk. By some means he must get where he could discover what was going on in the front flat on the third floor. Standing where he now was, there was momentary danger of being discovered by persons who would guess why he was there. Maku might come. Orme looked to see who lived in "4a," the flat above the Japanese. The card bore the name: "Madame Alia, Clairvoyant and Trance Medium." "I think I will have my fortune told," muttered Orme, as he pressed Madame Alia's bell and started up the stairs. At the top of the second flight he looked to the entrance of the front apartment. It had a large square of ground glass, with the name "Arima" in black letters. He continued upward another flight and presently found himself before two blank doors--one at the front and one a little at one side. The side door opened slowly in response to his knock. Before him stood a blowsy but not altogether unprepossessing woman of middle years. She wore a cheap print gown. A gipsy scarf was thrown over her head and shoulders, and her ears held loop earrings. Her inquiring glance at Orme was not unmixed with suspicion. "Madame Alia?" inquired Orme. She nodded and stood aside for him to enter. He passed into a cheap little reception-hall which looked out on the street, and then, at her silent direction went through a door at one side and found himself in the medium's sanctum. The one window gave on a dimly lighted narrow space which apparently had been cut in from the back of the building. Through the dusty glass he could see the railing of a fire-escape platform, and cutting diagonally across the light, part of the stairs that led to the platform above. There was a closed door, which apparently opened into the outer hall. In the room were dirty red hangings, two chairs, a couch, and a small square center-table. Madame Alia had already seated herself at the table and was shuffling a pack of cards. "Fifty-cent reading?" she asked, as he took the chair opposite her. Orme nodded. His thoughts were on the window and the fire-escape, and he hardly heard her monotonous sentences, though he obeyed mechanically her instructions to cut and shuffle.