Athalie gazed curiously at the secret cupboard. After a few moments

she bent over, lifted and replaced the panelling and passed her slim

hand over the wainscot, thoughtfully.

"So the woman was a trance-medium," she said, half to herself.

"Yes, Miss Greensleeve. She read the stars, too, and she done cards on

the side; you know--all about a blond gentleman that wants to meet you

and a dark lady comin' over the water to do something mean to you. She

charged high, but she had customers enough--swell ladies, too, in

their automobiles, and old gentlemen and young and all like that....

Here's part of her outfit"--leading Athalie to the centre table and

opening the green morocco box.

In the box was a slim bronze tripod and a big sphere of crystal. Mrs.

Meehan placed the tripod on the table and set the crystal sphere upon

it, saying dubiously: "She claimed that she could see things in that.

I guess it was part of her game. I ain't never seen nothing into that

glass ball, and I've looked, too. You can have it if you want it. It's

kind of cute to set on the mantel."

She began to paw and grub and rummage in the big paper parcel,

scratching about in the glittering mess of silk and embroidery with a

pertinacity entirely gallinaceous.

"You can have these, too," she said to Athalie--"if you want 'em.

They're heathen I guess--" holding up some tawdry Japanese and

home-made Chinese finery.

But Athalie declined the dead woman's robes of office and Mrs. Meehan

rolled them up in the wrapping paper and took them and herself off,

very profuse in her gratitude to Athalie for consenting to occupy the

apartment and thereby remove the "jinx" that had inhabited it since

the tragedy of the month before.

A very soft and melancholy mew from the basket informed the girl that

Hafiz desired his liberty. So she let him out and he trotted at her

heels as she walked about inspecting the apartment. Also he did

considerable inspecting on his own account, sniffing at every

door-sill and crack, jumping up on chairs to look out of windows,

prowling in and out of closets, his plumy tail jerking with

dubiousness and indecision.

The apartment was certainly clean. Evidently the house had been a good

one in its day, for the trim was dark old mahogany, rich and beautiful

in colour; and the fireplace was rather pretty with its acanthus

leaves and roses deeply carved in marble which time had toned to an

ivory tint.




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