faces at the
appointed hour.

"The plot thickens round the girl," began Britt, with a kind of
mocking levity. "Mrs. Lambert has done it now!"

They had reached the comparative quiet of the cross-street. "What has
she done?"

"She has delivered her ewe-lamb over to this ancient wolf of Wall
Street, who will eat her up for a Little Red Riding-hood. I've been
looking into Pratt's record. He has a cheerful way, I'm told, of
treating his 'psychics' like oranges--squeezing them and throwing them
into the street. He has become so sensitive to the sneers of the
outsiders that he fears to be 'done.' After getting all that a medium
can give him, he 'exposes' her elaborately, and sets her adrift, and
so guards himself from the possible accusation of having been
deceived. If there is any question of the medium's powers, he can then
come out with a card saying: 'I knew So-and-so was a fraud. I exposed
her two years--or two months--ago.' I see the girl's finish right
here."

"The dreadful old man! Does the girl know this?"

"I don't think she does, but she ought to. I hate to see a nice girl,
who would make some one a charming wife, perverted to these unholy
uses. The crowning infamy heaped upon her head will be a full page in
the _Sunday Blast_--'Another Harpie Exposed'--and it will come, Mrs.
Rice, I am sure of it. Pratt fairly fawns before her now. She is his
princess, his seeress, his chief jewel; but woe to her if she
displeases him or fails to meet his requirements."

"You appall me, Dr. Britt. Some one should at least warn her."

"I've already done so; but with the mother, Clarke, and Pratt to war
against, the case seems hopeless. Besides, she believes in herself--up
to a certain point. She'll never degenerate into one of those frumps
who go from city to city playing to the foolish women and tack-headed
men, but she will certainly be corrupted. If she marries Clarke her
future will be woful. She has entered in so far I don't see how she
can retreat. She is bound to keep on for his sake and her mother's
sake."

"Is she in love with Clarke?"

"That I haven't been able to determine, but she is under his control,
or she wouldn't be here."

With these gloomy words in her ears Kate entered the big, cold
drawing-room to wait for the coming of the master of the house.

"Pratt is the one to whom you are to pay your first respects--he is
master," warned Britt. "Ask to see his collections--that always
pleases him. If you