She quitted his presence with a kind of rough curtsey, but the Professor could hear her heart-breaking sobs as she descended the staircase. He leant his head thoughtfully upon his hand, and tried to decide what was best to be done. For his own gratification--in order to further his researches into Occultism--he had spoilt this girl’s life, parted her from her lover and her home--thrown her, ignorant and without protection, upon a world that did not want her. How could he make amends? He pondered over the question for a long time--then suddenly drew out his watch. It was not yet eight o’clock. He hastily transcribed a telegram to Karl Steinberg, and rang his bell. It was answered by Mrs. Battleby. “What may you please to want, Sir?” she demanded, “Hannah, she ’ave gone to bed, as well she may. I’m sure if I had been found out in sich practices, I should be glad enough to ’ide my ’ead anywheres, sooner than face honest and God-fearing people!” “Mrs. Battleby!” replied the Professor, in an unusually stern voice, “I am going to quit your apartments as soon as I can find others to suit me. So long as I remain here, be good enough to spare me the expression of your sentiments regarding Hannah, or anybody else. I wish that telegram to be sent as soon as possible!” and he held out the paper to her as he spoke. “It’s quite unpossible as I can send it, Sig-nor,” said the landlady, with asperity, “considering as there’s only me in the ’ouse. You’ve took Hannah away from me, Sig-nor, and so you must please to wait on yourself, and send your own telegrams.” The Professor rose with a sigh, and assumed his coat and hat. The message was of importance, so he was fain to put up with the woman’s insolence. He felt he could not finally decide this momentous question, without the counsel of his friend. The words were transmitted to the Hospital by a little after eight o’clock, and by half-past nine, Steinberg entered the room. “Why! what’s the matter now?” he exclaimed; “not ill, I hope, Ricardo.” “No! but much perplexed,” replied his friend, and thereupon he related the circumstances regarding Hannah Stubbs, over which he had been brooding for so long. Karl Steinberg looked very grave. Here was, apparently, not only the end of Hannah Stubbs, but of their studies in Spiritualism. Where should they ever find such another medium? “What do you intend to do?” he inquired of the Professor. “I have been thinking over it for a long time,” replied Ricardo, “and I can arrive at but one conclusion. _I shall marry the girl!_” If he had announced that he intended to murder Hannah Stubbs and all her family, he could not have astonished the Doctor more. He positively leapt from his chair, as he exclaimed, “Good God! are you mad? Do you know what you are saying? Marry that clod. Bind yourself for life to a mere animal like Hannah Stubbs! O! you are jesting with me!”