“Well, there won’t be any trouble,” he declared, “if I can help it. And if you want to help her, help me. Persuade her to let me talk to her. Don’t mind what the Professor says.” “I will,” declared Mrs. Vance with determination, “I will.” She started eagerly toward the hall, and then paused and returned. Her hands were clasped; her round, baby eyes, wet with tears, were fixed upon Winthrop appealingly. “Oh, please,” she pleaded, “you’re not going to hurt him, are you? Paul, my husband,” she explained, “he’s been such a good husband to me.” Winthrop laughed uneasily. “Why, that’ll be all right,” he protested. “He doesn’t mean any harm,” insisted Mrs. Vance, “he’s on the level; true, he is!” “Why, of course, of course,” Winthrop assented. Unsatisfied, Mrs. Vance burst into tears. “It’s this spirit business that makes the trouble!” she cried. “I tell them to cut it out. Now, the mind reading at the theatre,” she sobbed, “there’s no harm in that, is there? And there’s twice the money in it. But this ghost raising”--she raised her eyes appealingly, as though begging to be contradicted--“it’s sure to get him into trouble, isn’t it?” Winthrop shook his head, and smiled. “It may,” he said. Mrs. Vance broke into a fresh outburst of tears. “I knew it,” she cried, “I knew it.” Winthrop placed his hand upon her arm and turned her in the direction of the door. “Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “Go send Miss Vera here. And,” he called after her, “don’t worry.” As Mabel departed upon his errand, Rainey reentered from the bedroom. He carefully closed the door and halted with his hand upon the knob, and shook his head. “It’s no use,” he said, “he will go on with it. It’s not my fault,” he whined, “I told him it would kill him. I couldn’t make it any stronger than that, could I?” Rainey was not looking at Winthrop, but, as though fearful of interruption, toward the door. His eyes were harassed, furtive, filled with miserable indecision. Many times before Winthrop had seen men in such a state. He knew that for the sufferer it foretold a physical break down, or that he would seek relief in full confession. To give the man confidence, he abandoned his attitude of suspicion. “That certainly would be strong enough for me,” he said cheerfully. “Did you tell him what I advised?” “Yes, yes,” muttered Rainey impatiently. “He said you were invited here to give advice to his niece, not to him.” For the first time his eyes met those of Winthrop boldly. The District Attorney recognized that the man had taken his fears by the throat, and had arrived at his decision. “See here,” exclaimed Rainey, “could I give you some information?” “I’m sure you could,” returned Winthrop briskly. “Give it to me now.” But Rainey, glancing toward the door, shrank back. Winthrop, following the direction of his eyes, saw Vera. Impatiently he waved Rainey away.