"Well," said Rosalie, "if there was nothin' unprofessional about it, I should say fifty dollars a week." She smiled on him now openly. "You're a doctor. I don't have to say, as one professional person to another, that there's such a thing as ethics." The young man smiled back. "Oh, certainly!" he said. "I understand that!" Quite suddenly he leaned forward and clapped Rosalie's shoulder with a motion that had nothing offensive about it--only good fellowship and human understanding--"I want you to help me expose Mrs. Paula Markham." The announcement stiffened Rosalie. She sat bolt upright. "There ain't nothin' to expose!" she said. "Now let's get on a business basis," said the young man. "Well, you let me tell you one thing first. If you're pumpin' me for evidence, it don't go, because you've got no witnesses." "I'm not pumping you for anything. I'm willing to admit that the spirits, not you, smelled the iodoform--" "An' noticed that you was scrubbed clean as a whistle and that when we held hands to unite our magnetism, you was pawing for my pulse," pursued Rosalie, dropping her defences all at once. Thereupon, Roman haruspex looked into the eyes of Roman haruspex, and they both laughed. But Rosalie was serious enough a moment later. "Now when you come to talk about exposing Mrs. Markham, you've got to show me first why you want her exposed, and you've got to let me tell you that you're wastin' your money. There's enough that's fake about this profession, but I know two mediums I'd stake my life on; barring of course myself"--here Rosalie smiled a smile which might have meant a confession or a boast, so balanced was it between irony and sweetness--"Mrs. Markham and Mrs. Anna Fife. They're _real_." She peered into the face of her investigator. His expression showed skeptical amusement. She knew that her passion for talking too much was her greatest professional flaw; though had she thought it over maturely, she would have realized that she had never got into trouble through her tongue. Her trained instinct for human values led her inevitably to those who would appreciate her confidences and keep them. So the sudden retreat within her defences, which followed, proved irritation rather than suspicion. "See here," she pursued, "are you a psychic researcher?" "Cross my heart," answered the young man, "I never associated with spooks in my life until this week. I did it then because I wanted a first-class professional medium to take a good job." "Investigating Mrs. Markham? What for? Has she got a cinch on a relative of yours?" "Well, I'd like her for a relative," started the young man. Then he hesitated and for the first time faltered. A light blush began at the roots of his hair and overspread his face.