Over his dinner-table, he had discoursed to scientists and others, of the marvellous powers of Ricardo’s wife, and many had eagerly desired to witness them. This was the reason that he had obtained his old friend’s permission to ask Hannah to his house, to meet some people who were interested in the matter with himself. On the evening in question, he entertained at dinner the Persian Ambassador, one of the Gentlemen at Arms from the Royal Household, a celebrated brain doctor, who had long made abnormal cases his study, and three or four medical men with their wives, who had all promised to submit to such conditions as he should impose upon them. In an ante-chamber to the drawing-room, he had had a cabinet prepared for Hannah’s use. A dark velvet curtain drawn across one corner of the apartment, and covered in at the top, proved all that could be desired for the occasion, whilst a moderator lamp, shaded by red silk, cast a subdued light upon the proceedings. He had not invited Hannah to be present at the dinner; firstly, because he did not like to ask her to leave her husband for too long a time, and secondly, because he thought the presence of his company might intimidate her and make her feel uncomfortable, and perhaps have a bad effect upon the subsequent sitting. He had prepared his guests for her advent, speaking of her as a very quiet body, unaccustomed to society--the wife of an old friend of his, who did not care about her sitting for anybody but himself, but had kindly given permission for her to come there that evening. He did not exactly ask their indulgence for the roughness of the medium, but he led them to expect a person much their inferior in position--one to whom they might be kind and condescending, but with whom they need not think to associate. She was “the medium”--nothing more. The men were prepared to stare at her with curiosity, and the women to patronise her, as they might a housemaid who had been endowed with a miraculous voice, or anything else which they did not possess themselves. No one seemed disposed to sit long at dinner that evening, and they had all assembled in the drawing-room, before Hannah was announced. At last there sounded a cabman’s knock and ring at the hall door. “There is my medium!” exclaimed Von Steinberg, with alacrity, as he rose and advanced to meet her. The guests all looked up curiously, expecting to see a dowdy, scared-looking person enter the room, with an air of fright at finding herself in the presence of so august a company. What was their surprise, as their host reached the door, to see it thrown open by the footman, and admit a woman, stout, fleshy, and dressed in rather an incongruous manner for the occasion, but to all intents and purposes as self-possessed as any one amongst them. Karl von Steinberg was so astonished, that it was with difficulty he could restrain himself from giving open vent to his surprise.