“But I said that merely in a general way, Miss Ames.  I didn’t mean to say it was a proven proposition—­”

“That isn’t the point—­you told me there were a few—­a very few real, sincere mediums—­now I’m here to get the address of the best one you know of.  I want to go to him—­or her—­and have a seance, and I want to get into communication with Sanford—­with Mr. Embury’s spirit, and learn from him who killed him.  It’s the only way we can ever find out.”

Miss Ames’ gray eyes took on a strange look; she seemed half hypnotized at the moment, as she looked at Hanlon.  He moved uncomfortably under her gaze.

“Well,” he said, at length, “I can give you the address of the best—­the only real medium I know.  That I will do with pleasure, but I cannot guarantee his bringing about a materialization of —­of Mr. Embury.”

“Never mind about materialization, if he can get in touch and get a message for me.  You see—­I haven’t said much about this—­but Mr. Embury’s spirit appeared to me as—­as he died.”

“What?”

“Yes; just at the moment his soul passed from earth, his astral body passed by me and paused at my bedside for a farewell.”

“You amaze me!  You are indeed psychic.  Tell me about it.”

“No; I won’t tell you the story—­I’ll tell the medium.  But I know I saw him—­why, he was discernible to all my five senses—­”

“To your senses!  Then it was no spirit!”

“Oh, yes, it was.  Sanford’s body still lay on his own bed, but his passing spirit materialized sufficiently for me to see it—­to hear it—­to feel it”

“Miss Ames, you mustn’t go to a medium!  You are too imaginative —­too easily swayed—­don’t go, dear lady, it can do no good.”

Young Hanlon looked, as he felt, very solicitous for the aged spinster, and he cast an anxious glance at her disturbed face.

“I must,” she insisted; “it is the only way.  I had great trouble to find you, Mr. Hanlon.  I had to communicate with Mr. Mortimer, in Newark—­and at last we traced you here.  Are you all through with your fake tricks?”

“Yes,” Hanlon laughed.  “I wore them out.  I’ve gone into a legitimate business.”

“Sign painting?”

“Yes, as you see.”

“But such big signs!” and the old lady’s eyes wandered to photographs and sketches of enormous scenic signs, such as are painted on high buildings or built on housetops.

“That’s the specialty of this firm.  I’m only learning, but it strongly appeals to me.  It’s really more of an art than a trade.  Now, as to this man you want to see, Miss Ames, I’ll give you his address, but I beg of you to think it over before you visit him.  Consult with some one—­not Mrs, Embury—­some man, of good judgment and clear mind.  Who is advising you?”

“Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Elliott—­you saw them both the day you were at our house—­they advise my niece and myself in all matters.  Shall I ask them?”