l tell her himself, now!"

"No," corrected Rainey, "he doesn't know yet there's to be a seance.
Hallowell was writing the note when he left."

"Then," instructed Gaylor, "do not let her know until she arrives--until
it will be too late for her to back out."

Vance nodded and, waiting until from the back room he heard the voices
of Mannie and Winthrop, he opened the front door and the two men ran
down the steps into the street.

While the conspirators were hidden in the vestibule, Mannie had opened
the folding doors, and invited Winthrop to enter the reception parlor.

"Miss Vera will be down in a minute," he said. "If you want your hand
read," he added, pointing, "you sit over there."

As Winthrop approached the centre table, Mannie backed against the
piano. The presence of the District Attorney at such short range
aroused in him many emotions. Alternately he was torn with alarm, with
admiration, with curiosity. He regarded him apprehensively, with a
nervous and unhappy smile.

About the smile there was something that Winthrop found familiar, and,
with one almost as attractive, he answered it.

"I think we've met before, haven't we?" he asked pleasantly.

Mannie nodded. "Yes, sir," he answered promptly. "At Sam Hepner's old
place, on West Forty-fourth street."

"Why, of course!" exclaimed the District Attorney.

"Don't you--don't you remember?" stammered Mannie eagerly. He was deeply
concerned lest the distinguished cross-examiner should think, that
from him of his lurid past he could withhold anything. "I had my coat
off--and you said you'd make it hot for me."

"Did I?" asked Winthrop with an effort at recollection.

"No, you didn't!" Mannie hastened to reassure him. "I mean, you didn't
make it hot for me."

Winthrop laughed, and seated himself comfortably beside the centre
table. "Well I'm glad of that," he said. "So our relations are still
pleasant, then?" he asked.

"Sure!" exclaimed Mannie heartily. "I mean--yes, sir."

Winthrop mechanically reached for his cigarette case, and then,
recollecting, withdrew his hand.

"And how are the ponies running?" he asked.

The interview was filling Mannie with excitement and delight. He
chuckled with pleasure. His fear of the great man was rapidly departing.
Could this, he asked himself, be the "terror to evil-doers," the man
whose cruel questions drove witnesses to tears, whose "third degree"
sent veterans of the underworld staggering from his confession