A solemn-visaged colored man--not the officious usher of the night before--took his card and led him into a gorgeous, glacial reception-room on the left. The house was very still and cold and gloomy, for the day was darkening and the lights were not yet on. It impressed him as a vast and splendid tomb, and with a revived knowledge of Simeon Pratt's tragic history he chilled with a premonition of some approaching shadow. "What a contrast to the sunlit cabin of the Colorow!" he inwardly exclaimed, and the thought of the mountain girl housed in this grim and sepulchral mansion deepened his wonder. A gruff voice above inquired: "Who is it? Let me see the card. Serviss, eh? Tell him--No, wait, I'll go down and see him myself." Morton smiled grimly, realizing perfectly the manner in which Pratt had intercepted his card. "The old watch-dog," he exclaimed. A heavy tread descending the stairs announced the approach of his host, whose sullen face was by no means engaging as he entered. "Are you Professor Serviss?" "I am." The flabby lips curled in scorn. "You are one of those scientific gentlemen who know it all, aren't you?" "I sent my card to Miss Lambert," replied Serviss, with cutting formality. Pratt's face darkened. "_I_ am the master of this house." "But not of your guests, I hope." "I have a right to know who calls, and I intend to protect Miss Lambert from such as you. You were not invited here last night." "Not by you, I admit. I owe you an explanation for that. I came to call on Miss Lambert. Your man shouldered me into the room before I knew what was going on. I didn't intend to 'butt in,' as they say. I was afterwards invited forward by Mr. Clarke, as you will remember, and later by the 'control.'" "Clarke is not running things here." "Ah, but the spirits? Would you question their judgment? They insisted on making me the guest of honor, you will remember. They played to me, you may say." Pratt was daunted by his visitor's mocking tone. "You should have had more sense of honor than to grab the medium the way you did." "Being invited to sit near, I took it as an invitation to make a test. I wanted to know who held that horn. How can you hope to convince a sane mind of the truth of such an exhibition as that last night unless you permit tests?" The colored man had returned. "Miss Lambert will see you, sir. This way, please." For a moment Pratt meditated interference, but something in the movement and face of the visitor deterred him. As Serviss followed his guide up the great stairway, he asked himself: "What will she be like? She must be changed--deeply changed. How will she meet me?" He acknowledged a growing excitement.