"You are about to engage in a new business," she was saying. "You will be successful, but there will be some trouble about a dark man.--Look out for him.--He talks fair, but he means mischief.--There is a woman, too.--This man will try to prejudice her against you." And all the time Orme was saying to himself, "How can I persuade her to let me use the fire-escape?" Suddenly he was conscious that the woman had ceased speaking and was running the cards through her fingers and looking at him searchingly. "You are not listening," she said, as he met her gaze. He smiled apologetically. "I know--I was preoccupied." "I can't help you if you don't listen." Orme inferred that she took pride in her work. He sighed and looked grave. "I am afraid," he said slowly, "that my case is too serious for the cards." She brightened. "You'd ought to have a trance-reading--two dollars." "I'd take any kind of reading that would help me, but I'm afraid the situation is too difficult." "Then why did you come?" Again the look of suspicion. "I came because you could help me, but not by a reading." "What do you mean?" Plainly she was frightened. "I don't put people away. That's out of my line. Honest!" "Do I look as if I wanted anything crooked done?" Orme smiled. "It's hard to tell what folks want," she muttered. "You're a fly-cop, aren't you?" "What makes you think that?" "The way you been sizing things up. You aren't going to do anything, are you? I pay regular for my protection every month--five dollars--and I work hard to get it, too." Orme hesitated. He had known at the outset that he was of a class different from the ordinary run of her clients. The difference undoubtedly had both puzzled and frightened her. He might disabuse her of the notion that he had anything to do with the police, but her misapprehension was an advantage that he was loath to lose. Fearing him, she might grant any favor. "Now, listen to me," he said at last. "I don't mean you any harm, but I want you to answer a few questions." She eyed him furtively. "Do you know the man in the flat below?" he demanded. "Mr. Arima? No. He's a Jap. I see him in the halls sometimes, but I don't do no more than bow, like any neighbor." "He's noisy, isn't he?" "Only when he has pupils. But he goes out to do most of his teaching. Is he wanted?" "Not exactly. Now look here. I believe you're a well-meaning woman. Do you make a good thing out of this business?" "Fair." She smiled faintly. "I ain't been in Chicago long, and it takes time to work up a good trade. I got a daughter to bring up. She's with friends. She don't know anything about what I do for a living." "Well," said Orme, "I'm going to give you five dollars toward educating your girl." He took a bill from his pocket-book and handed it to her. She accepted it with a deprecating glance and a smile that was tinged with pathetic coquetry. Then she looked at it strangely. "What's the writing?" she asked.