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.

She met him so simply, so cordially, with such frank pleasure, that
his own restraint gave way at first glance. In her glowing color, in
the tones of her voice, lay a charm which carried him back to
Colorow, linking the mature and splendid woman with the unformed girl
of the mountain-cabin. He took her hand with a keen thrill of
admiration--whatever had come to her she had gained in grace without
apparent loss of sincerity.

His eyes disturbed her, and she stammered some commonplace expression
of pleasure, and he replied almost as lamely, then turned to the
mother. "I hope you have forgiven me for my action of last night?"
Then again to Viola. "I only intended to touch your arm. I trust you
suffered no lasting ill effects."

Again something that was at once attraction and repulsion passed
bet