en
surprise_, and pretended to know five times as much as he did know; in
fact, as much as he suspected. By this trick he broke down her guard;
and before she had time to build it up again, flung a bribe of two
thousand pounds--ten thousand dollars--at her head. She couldn't resist,
and eventually told him everything.

Opal and she had corresponded for several years, it seemed, as fellow
mediums, sending each other clients from one country to another. When
Opal learned that the Boston medium was coming to England, she asked if
Miss Reardon would do her a great favour. In return for it, the American
woman's cabin on shipboard and all expenses at one of London's best
hotels would be paid.

This sounded alluring. Miss Reardon asked questions by letter, and by
letter those questions were answered. A plan was formed--a plan that was
a _plot_. Opal kept phonographic records of many voices among those of
her favourite clients--did this with their knowledge and consent, making
presents to them of their own records to give to friends. It was just an
"interesting fad" of hers! Such a record of June's voice she had posted
to Boston. Miss Reardon, who was a clever mimic (a fine professional
asset!) learned to imitate the voice. She had a description from Opal of
the celebrated gray costume with the jewels June wore, and knew well how
to "work" her knowledge of June's favourite perfume.

As to that first meeting at the Savoy, Opal was aware that Joyce and I
met Robert there on most afternoons. A suite was taken for Miss Reardon
in the hotel, and the lady was directed to await developments in the
_foyer_ at a certain hour--an old stage photograph of Robert Lorillard
in her hand-bag. The rest had been almost simple, thanks to Opal's
knowledge of June's life and doings; to her deadly cleverness, and the
device of a tiny electric light glimmering through a square of emerald
green glass on the "spirit's" breast, under scarves slowly unfolded. If
it had not been for Jim, Robert would have become her bond-slave, and
Joyce would have fled from England.

* * * * *

"Well, are you satisfied?" Jim asked, spinning me home at last in his
own car.

"More than satisfied," I said. "Joyce and Robert will marry after all,
and be the happiest couple on earth. They'll forget this horror."

"Which is what you'd like to do if I'd let you, I suppose," said Jim.

"Forget! You mean----?"

"Yes. The promise I dragged