Miss Abby was pathetic in her simple inquiry, and Hanlon spoke gently as he replied.

“Yes, if you are determined to try the experiment.  But I do not advise you to see Mr. Marigny, the medium I spoke of.  Here is the address, but you talk it over with those two men you mentioned.  I know they are both practical, logical business men, and their advice on the subject will be all right.  I thank you, Miss Ames, for honoring me with a call.  I hope if you do go to see Marigny, it will prove a satisfactory seance, but I also hope you will decide not to go.  You are, as I said, too emotional, too easily swayed by the supernatural to go very deeply into those mysteries.  Shall I take you to the elevator?”

“If you please, Mr. Hanlon,” and still in that half oblivious mood, Miss Ames allowed herself to be led through the halls.

Hanlon went down with her, for he feared to leave her to her own devices.  He was relieved to find she had a taxicab in waiting, and as he put her into it, he cautioned the driver to take his fare straight home.

“But I want to go to Marigny’s now,” objected Miss Ames, as she heard what Hanlon said.

“Oh, you can’t.  You must make an appointment with him—­by mail or by telephone.  And, too, you promised me you’d put it up to Mr. Hendricks or Mr. Elliott first.”

“So I did,” and the old head nodded submissively, as the taxi drove away.

When Ferdinand admitted Aunt Abby to the Embury home, she heard voices in the living-room that were unmistakably raised in anger.

“You know perfectly well, Fifi,” Eunice was saying, “that your little bridge games are quite big enough to be called a violation of the law—­you know that such stakes as you people play for—­”

“It isn’t the size of the stake that makes gambling!” Fifi Desternay cried, shrilly; “I’ve had the advice of a lawyer, and he says that as long as it’s my own home and the players are invited guests, there’s no possibility of being—­”

“Raided!” said Eunice, scathingly.  “Might as well call things by their real name!”

“Hush up!  Some of the servants might hear you!  How unkind you are to me, Eunice.  You used to love your little Fifi!”

“Well, she doesn’t now!” said Miss Ames, tartly, as she came in.  “You see, Mrs, Desternay, you have been instrumental in bringing our dear Eunice under a dreadful, and absolutely unfounded suspicion—­”

“Dreadful, but far from unfounded!” declared Mrs, Desternay, her little hands uplifted, and her pretty face showing a scornful smile.  “You and I, Aunt Abby, know what our dear Eunice’s temper is—­”

“Don’t you ‘Aunt Abby’ me, you good-for-nothing little piece!  I am surprised Eunice allows you in this house!”

“Now, now—­if Eunice doesn’t want me, I’ll get out—­and jolly well glad to do so!  How about it, Eunice?  I came here to help, but if I’m not wanted—­out goes little Fifi!”