ou. Well, if I
should raise suspicion against your business integrity and your
methods, it would hurt for a moment, even if there were truth in it. In
fairness, that is so, is it not?"

"I have to beg your pardon, of course," said Norcross, grown easier in
his manner. "But you must remember that your profession has to prove
itself--that they're all accused of fraud."

"Now that you have apologized," said she, "I will prove that I have
accepted the apology by answering you direct. I am not a fraud. I have
been able to afford not to be. Still, I have a little sympathy with
those who are. Did you ever consider," she went on, "that no fraud
invents anything; that he is only imitating something genuine? Perhaps
it may shake whatever faith you have in me if I tell you whatever these
people profess to do has been done genuinely and without possibility of
fraud."

"Even bringing spirits from a cabinet?" he asked. Just as he spoke that
question, an electric bell rang somewhere to the rear of the
drawing-room. Mrs. Markham sat unmoving for an instant, as though
considering either the sound or his question. The bell tinkled no more.
After a moment, she smiled again.

"You must know more of all these things before I can answer your
question. Haven't we talked enough? Wouldn't it be better, in your
present condition of suspicion, if I try to see what we can do without
seeming any further to inspect you? For you must know that long
preliminary conversation is a stock method with frauds and fakirs."

Norcross's breath came a little faster, and a curious change passed for
a second over his face--a falling of all the masses and lines. Mrs.
Markham rose, sat by the table, under the reading-lamp, and shaded her
eyes with her hand. She spoke now in a different tone, softer and less
inflected.

[Illustration: NORCROSS'S BREATH CAME A LITTLE FASTER]

"I shall probably not go into trance," she said. "That is rare with me,
rare with anyone, though often assumed for effect. Of you, I ask only
that you remain quiet and passive. I'd like less light."

Norcross shot a glance of quick suspicion at her as he rose, reached
for the old-fashioned gas chandelier, and turned the jets down to tiny
points.

"Oh, dear no!" spoke Mrs. Markham, "not so low as that--this is no dark
seance. I merely meant that the lights are too strong for a pair of
sensitive eyes. I feel everything when I am in this condition. Would
you mind sitting a little furthe