He took her hand, testing its quality and texture Page 52 
 
THE HEART LINE 
 
 A DRAMA OF SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 By 
 
 GELETT BURGESS 
 
 Author of 
 
 The White Cat, Vivette 
 A Little Sister of Destiny, etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 LESTER RALPH 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYRIGHT 1907 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 OCTOBER 
 
TO MAYSIE 
 WHO KNEW THE PEOPLE 
 
 AND 
 LOVED THE PLACE 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 THE CITY THAT WAS 
 
 918796 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 PROLOGUE ..-..... x 
 
 I THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY . . .24 
 
 II TUITION AND INTUITION . , ... .49 
 
 III THE SPIDER S NEST 63 
 
 IV THE PAYSONS ... . . . .89 
 
 V THE RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER . . 127 
 
 VI SIDE LIGHTS , 165 
 
 VII THE WEAVING OF THE WEB .... 217 
 
 VIII ILLUMINATION . , . . , * 246 
 
 IX COMING ON . 270 
 
 X A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR . . . . . 293 
 
 XI THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT . , . 328 
 
 XII THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT . . . . 353 
 
 XIII THE BLOODSUCKER . . . . . .379 
 
 XIV THE FORE-HONEYMOON . . . . . 400 
 XV THE RE-ENTRANT ANGLE ..... 435 
 
 XVI TIT FOR TAT 451 
 
 XVII THE MATERIALIZING SEANCE . * . 467 
 
 XVIII A RETURN TO INSTINCT . ; . . . 481 
 
 XIX FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS . . . . .503 
 
 XX MASTERSON S MANCEUVERS . . . . 526 
 
 XXI THE SUNRISE 550 
 
 EPILOGUE 580 
 
THE HEART LINE 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 In the year 1877 the Siskiyou House, originally a 
 third-class hotel patronized chiefly by mining men, 
 had fallen into such disrepute that it was scarcely 
 more than a cheap tenement. Its office was now 
 frankly a bar-room; beside it, a narrow hallway 
 plunged into the shabby, shadowy interior; here a 
 steep stairway rose. Above were disconsolate rooms 
 known to the police of San Francisco as the occa 
 sional resort of counterfeiters, confidence workers 
 and lesser knaves; to the neighborhood the Siskiyou 
 Hotel had a local reputation as being the home of 
 Madam Grant, who occupied two rooms on the second 
 floor. 
 
 Her rooms were slovenly and squalid almost bar 
 barous in the extremity of their neglect. Upon the 
 floor was a matted carpet of dirt and rubbish inches 
 deep, piled higher at the corners, uneven with lumps 
 of refuse, bizarre with scraps of paper, cloth and tan 
 gled strings. 
 
 In the rear room an unclean length of burlap was 
 stretched across a string, half concealing a disordered, 
 
 i 
 
2 THE HEART LINE 
 
 ramshackle cot, whose coverings were ragged, soiled 
 and moth-eaten. A broken chair or two leaned crazily 
 against the v r ?iL The dusty windows looked point- 
 blank upon the damp wall of an abutting wooden 
 house. There had once been paper upon the walls; 
 it was now torn, scratched and rubbed by grimy 
 shoulders into a harlequin pattern of dun and greasy 
 tones. 
 
 The front room, through the open rolling doors, 
 was, if possible, in a still worse state of decay, and 
 here wooden and paper boxes, tin cans, sacks of 
 rags (doing service for cushions), a three-legged 
 table and a smoked, rusty oil-stove, with its comple 
 ment of unclean pots and dishes, showed the place, 
 abominable as was its aspect, to be a human abode. 
 A print or two, torn from some newspaper or maga 
 zine, was pinned to the wall in protest against the 
 sordidness of the interior. The place gave forth a 
 fetid and moldy smell. The air was damp, though 
 the sun struggled in through cracked panes, half 
 lighting the apartment 
 
 There was, however, one piece of furniture, gloss- 
 ily, splendidly new, incongruously set amidst the dis 
 order an oak bookcase, its shelves well filled with 
 volumes. Seated upon a cracker box in front of its 
 open doors, this afternoon, a boy of eight years sat 
 reading with rapt excitement the story of Gulliver s 
 Travels. 
 
 He, too, seemed strangely set in that environment, 
 for he was clean and sweet in person and dress. His 
 hair was black and waving, his eyes deep blue, clear 
 and shrewd. His cheeks were pink and gently dim 
 pled, his mouth ample, firm and well-cut, over a 
 
PROLOGUE 3 
 
 square, deeply cleft chin. He was patently a hand 
 some child, virile, graceful, determined in his pose. 
 His natural charm was made more picturesque by a 
 blue flannel suit, with white collar, cuffs and stockings. 
 Oblivious to his extraordinary surroundings, he read 
 on until he had finished the book. 
 
 He rose then, yawned and walked to the window in 
 the front room to look out upon the street. Opposite 
 was a row of low buildings a stable, a Chinese laun 
 dry, two dreary rooming-houses and a saloon. The 
 roof-line of the block, where the false wooden fronts 
 met the sky, held his gaze for a few moments. A 
 horse-car lumbered lazily past, and his eyes fell to 
 the cobble-paved thoroughfare and its passers-by. To 
 the left, Market Street roared bustling a block away 
 and the throngs swept up and down. To the right, a 
 little passage starting from two saloons, one on each 
 corner of the street, penetrated the slums. The warm, 
 mellow California sunlight bathed the whole scene, 
 picking out, here and there, high lights on window- 
 glass that shot forth blinding sparks and flashes. 
 
 The boy yawned again, his hands in his pockets, 
 then turned to the sooty oil stove and peered rather 
 disgustedly amongst the frying-pans, tins and paste 
 board boxes. There was nothing in the way of food 
 to be found. He sniffed fastidiously at the corrupt 
 odor of cooking, then knelt upon the floor and began 
 a search, crawling gingerly on hands and knees. The 
 ends of three matches projected slightly above the 
 surface of the matted layers of rubbish. Here he 
 scraped the dirt away with a case-knife and came 
 upon a little paper-wrapped parcel which, opened, 
 disclosed three bright twenty-five-cent pieces. He 
 
4 THE HEART LINE 
 
 wrapped them up again, tucked them into the hole in 
 the dirt and went on with his quest. 
 
 His next find, a foot or so from the base-board of 
 the double doors, was a cache containing a pearl- 
 handled pen-knife. He put it back. Here and there 
 in the subsoil he came upon other treasure trove, each 
 article carefully wrapped in paper or bits of rag a 
 jet ear-ring, a folded calendar, a silver chain, two 
 watches, a dozen screw-eyes, several five-dollar gold 
 pieces, a roll of corset laces. He returned them one 
 by one as he found them, and smoothed the dirt over 
 the place. 
 
 He had nearly exhausted the field in the front room, 
 when he came upon a small paper bag containing a 
 few macaroons. These he sat down to eat, first 
 brushing off feathery bits of green mold. He dis 
 covered another bag containing peanuts. He chewed 
 them slowly, throwing the shells upon the floor, his 
 eyes wandering, his air abstracted. 
 
 Leading off the front room was a smaller one whose 
 door was shut. He opened it now, and went in some 
 what fearfully. Here was another cot drawn up in 
 front of the window, and, upon nails driven in the 
 wall, women s hats and dresses. Upon the inside of 
 the door was pinned a stained, yellowing newspaper 
 cut the portrait of a man perhaps thirty years old, 
 with mustache and side-whiskers and a wide flowing 
 collar. Beneath it was printed the name, "Oliver 
 Payson." The boy gazed at it curiously for some 
 moments. 
 
 From this, he turned to a corner where stood an 
 old trunk covered with cowhide whose hair was 
 rubbed off in mangy spots. Corroded brass-headed 
 
PROLOGUE 5 
 
 nails held a rotting, pinked flap of red leather about 
 the edge of the cover. On the top of the trunk, also 
 in brass-headed nails, were the letters "F. G." 
 
 He stooped over and tried the lid. The trunk was 
 locked. He lifted it, testing its weight, and found it 
 too heavy to be budged. He rubbed the hair with his 
 hand, played with the handles and fingered the lock 
 longingly ; then, after a last look, he left the room and 
 closed the door. 
 
 He had gone back to the bookcase and taken down 
 a volume of Montaigne s Essays, when he heard a 
 knock on the door of the back room leading into the 
 hallway. He unlocked the door, opened it a few 
 inches and stood guarding the entrance. 
 
 A woman of middle age in a black bonnet, shawl 
 and gown attempted to pass him. He stood stiffly in 
 her way, regarding her harsh, sour visage, thin, cruel 
 lips and pale, humid, bluish eyes. At his resolute 
 defense her attitude weakened. 
 
 "Ain t Madam Grant to home ?" she said. 
 
 "No, she is not. What do you want?" 
 
 "Oh, I just wanted to see her; you let me come in 
 and wait a while she ll be back soon, I s pose?" 
 
 "She doesn t allow me to let anybody in when she s 
 away," the boy protested. 
 
 "Oh, that s all right, Frankie ; I m a particular friend 
 of hers. I ll just come in and make myself to home 
 till she comes in. I m all winded comin up them steep 
 stairs, and I ve got to set down." 
 
 "I m sorry," the boy said more politely, "but I 
 mustn t let you in. I did let a lady in once, and Mamsy 
 scolded me for it. The next day we missed a watch, 
 
6 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "My sakes ! Does she keep her watches in the dirt 
 on the floor, too?" the woman said, her eyes sparkling 
 with curiosity. "You needn t worry about me, my 
 dear ; everybody knows me, and trusts me, too. Besides, 
 my business is important and I ve just got to see the 
 Madam, sure." 
 
 "You may wait on the stairs, if you like, but you 
 can t come in here. She says that the neighbors are 
 altogether too curious." The remark was made delib 
 erately, as if to aid his defense by its rudeness. But 
 the woman s skin was tough. 
 
 "You re a pert one, you be !" she sniffed. *Td like 
 to know what you do here all day, anyway. You 
 ought to be to school ! We ll have to look after you, 
 young man; they s societies that makes a business of 
 seeing to children that s neglected like you, and takes 
 em away where they can be taught an education and 
 live decent." 
 
 The boy s face changed to dismay. The tears came 
 into his eyes. "I don t want to go away, I want to 
 live here, and I m going to, too! Besides, I can read 
 and write already, and I learn more things thai? you 
 can learn at school. I d just like to see them take 
 me away!" 
 
 "What do you learn, now?" said the woman insinu 
 atingly. "Do you learn how to tell fortunes ? Can you 
 tell mine, now? I ll give you a nickel if you will !" 
 
 "I don t want a nickel. I ve got all the money I 
 want!" 
 
 "Oh, you have, have you? How much have you 
 got? Say, I hear the Madam s pretty well fixed. 
 How much do you s pose she s worth, now?" 
 
 "You can t work me that way." 
 
PROLOGUE 7 
 
 She put forth a shaky hand to stroke his dark hair, 
 and he warded her off. "Nor that way either!" he 
 said, beginning to grow angry. 
 
 "Say, sonny, do you ever see the spirits here?" she 
 began again. 
 
 "No, but I can smell em now," he replied. 
 
 She burst out into a cackle of laughter. "Say, that s 
 pretty good! You re a likely little feller, you be. I 
 didn t mean no harm, noways." 
 
 "You mean that you didn t mean any harm, don t 
 you ?" he asked soberly. 
 
 "No, I don t mean no harm, sure I don t! What 
 d you mean?" 
 
 "She says one shouldn t use double negatives." 
 
 "What s them, then?" 
 
 "I mean you don t use good English," said the 
 boy. 
 
 "I don t talk English? What do I talk then- 
 Dutch? What s the matter with you?" 
 
 "Oh, I m just studying grammar, that s all. Now 
 you see I don t need to go to school, the way you said. 
 Mamsy teaches me every night." 
 
 "Oh, she does, does she? Well, well! I hear she 
 has a fine education; some say she s went to college, 
 even." 
 
 "Yes, she has. She went to a woman s college in 
 the East, once." 
 
 "Then what s she living in this pigsty for, I d like 
 to know ! It beats all, this room does. Let me come 
 in for a moment and just look round a bit, will you? 
 I won t touch nothing at all, sure." 
 
 The boy protested, and it might have come to a 
 physical struggle had not footsteps been heard coming 
 
8 THE HEART LINE 
 
 up the narrow stairway. The visitor peered over the 
 railing of the balusters. 
 
 "That s her!" she whispered hoarsely. 
 
 A head, rising, looked between the balusters, like 
 a wild animal gazing through the bars of its cage. 
 It was the head of a woman of twenty-seven or eight, 
 and though her face had a strange, wild expression, 
 with staring eyes, she was, or had undoubtedly been, 
 a lady. Her hair, prematurely gray, was parted in 
 the center and brought down in waves over her ears. 
 Her eyebrows, in vivid contrast, were black; and 
 between them a single vertical line cleft her forehead. 
 What might have been a rare beauty was now dis 
 torted into something fantastic and mysterious, though 
 when at rare intervals she smiled, a veil seemed to 
 be drawn aside and she became an engaging, familiar, 
 warm-hearted woman. She was dressed in a brilliant 
 red gown and dolman of mosaic cloth with a Tyrolean 
 hat of the period. Such striking color was, thirty 
 years ago, uncommon upon the streets, but, even had 
 it been more usual, the severity of her costume with 
 neither a bustle nor the elaborate ruffles and trimmings 
 then in vogue, would have made her conspicuous. 
 
 She came up, with a white face, gasping for breath 
 after her climb, one hand to her heart. For a moment 
 she seemed unable to speak. Then suddenly and 
 sharply she said: 
 
 "Francis, shut the door !" 
 
 The boy obeyed, coming out into the hall, with a 
 hand still holding the knob. 
 
 "The lady wanted me to let her in, but I wouldn t 
 do it, Mamsy," he said. 
 
 Madam Grant turned her eyes upon the apologetic, 
 
PROLOGUE 9 
 
 cringing figure, whose thin, skinny fingers plucked at 
 her shawl. 
 
 "I just called neighborly like, thinkin maybe you d 
 give me a settin , Madam Grant," she said. 
 
 Madam Grant had come nearer, now, and stood 
 gazing at her visitor. The expression of scorn had 
 faded from her face, her eyes glazed. She spoke 
 slowly in a deliberate monotone. 
 
 "Your name is Margaret Riley." 
 
 The woman nodded. Her lips had fallen open, and 
 her eyes were fixed in awe. 
 
 "Who are the three men I see beside you?" de 
 manded Madam Grant. 
 
 "They was only two ! I swear to God they was only 
 two!" 
 
 "There is a little child, too." 
 
 "For the love of Heaven !" Mrs. Riley moaned. 
 "Send em away, send em away, tell em to leave 
 me be !" 
 
 Madam Grant s eyes brightened a little, and her 
 color returned. 
 
 "Come in the room and I will see what I can do 
 for you." 
 
 The three entered, Mrs. Riley, half terrified but 
 curious, darting her eyes about the apartment, sniff 
 ing at the foul odor, her furtive glances returning 
 ever to the mad woman. Francis went to the book 
 case and resumed his reading without manifesting 
 further interest in the visitor. Madam Grant seated 
 herself upon a wooden box covered with sacking and 
 untied the strings of her hat. 
 
 "What do you want to know?" she asked sharply. 
 
 "I got three tickets in the lottery, and I want to 
 
io THE HEART LINE 
 
 know which one to keep," Mrs. Riley ventured, some 
 what shamefaced. 
 
 Madam Grant gave a fierce gesture, and the line 
 between her brows grew deeper. "I ll answer such 
 questions for nobody! That s the devil s work, not 
 mine. How did your three husbands die, Margaret 
 Riley?" 
 
 The woman held up her hands in protest. "Two, 
 only two!" she cried; "and they died in their beds 
 regular enough. God knows I wore my fingers out 
 for em, too!" 
 
 "They died suddenly," Madam Grant replied impas 
 sively. "Who s the other one with the smooth face 
 the one who limps?" 
 
 Mrs. Riley coughed into her hands nervously. "It 
 might be my brother." 
 
 "It is not your brother. You know who it is, Mrs. 
 Riley; and he tells me that you must give back the 
 papers." 
 
 "Oh, FI1 give em back; I was always meanin to 
 give em back, God knows I was ! I ll do it this week." 
 
 "In a week it will be too late." 
 
 "I ll do it to-morrow." 
 
 "You ll do it to-day, Mrs. Riley." 
 
 "I will, oh, I will!" 
 
 "Now, if you want a sitting, I ll give you one," 
 Madam Grant continued. "That is, if I can get 
 Weenie. I can t promise anything. She comes and 
 she goes like the sun in spring." 
 
 "Never mind," said Mrs. Riley, rising abruptly. "I 
 think I ll be going, after all." She started toward 
 the door. 
 
 The clairvoyant s face had set again in a vacant, 
 
PROLOGUE ii 
 
 far-away expression and her voice fell to the same 
 dead tone she had used before. She clutched her 
 throat suddenly. 
 
 "He s in the water he s drowning he s passing 
 out now he s gone ! You are responsible, you ! you ! 
 You drove him to it with your false tongue and your 
 crafty hands. But you ll regret it. You ll pay for it 
 in misery and pain, Margaret Riley. Your old age 
 will be miserable. You ll escape shame to suffer 
 torment !" 
 
 Mrs. Riley s face, haggard and terrified, was work 
 ing convulsively. Without taking her eyes from the 
 medium, she ran into the front room and shook the 
 boy s shoulder. 
 
 "Wake her up, Frankie, I don t want no more of 
 this ! Wake her up, dear, and let me go !" 
 
 Francis arose lazily and walked over to Madam 
 Grant. He put his arm tenderly about her and whis 
 pered in her ear. 
 
 "Come back, Mamsy dear! Come back, Mamsy, I 
 want you !" He began stroking her hands firmly. 
 
 Mrs. Riley, still gazing, fascinated, at the group, 
 backed out of the room and closed the door. Her 
 steps were heard stumbling down the stairs. Madam 
 Grant s eyes quivered and opened slowly. She shud 
 dered, then shook the blood back into her thin, white 
 hands. Finally she looked up at Francis and smiled. 
 
 "All right, dear!" 
 
 Her smile, however, lasted but for the few moments 
 during which he caressed her; then the veil fell upon 
 her countenance, and her eyes grew strange and hard. 
 She gazed wildly here and there about the room. 
 
 "What s that in Boston?" she asked suddenly, the 
 
12 THE HEART LINE 
 
 pitch of her voice sharply raised, as she pointed to 
 the shells upon the rubbish of the floor. 
 
 "Only some peanuts I was eating, Mamsy," said the 
 boy, guiltily watching her. 
 
 "Somebody has been in Toledo, somebody has been 
 in New York! I can see the smoke of the trains!" 
 Her eyes traveled around an invisible path, from 
 mound to mound of dirt and scraps, noticing the 
 slight displacements the boy had made in his quest for 
 food. He watched her sharply, but without fear. 
 
 "Oh, the train didn t stop, Mamsy; they were 
 express trains, you know." 
 
 "Don t tell me, don t tell me!" 
 
 She pointed with her slender forefinger here and 
 there. "New Orleans is safe; New Orleans is always 
 a safe, strait-laced old town; but the place isn t what 
 it was! They ve left the French quarter now to the 
 Creoles, but I know a place on Royal Street where 
 the gallery whispers O God! that gallery with the 
 magnolia trees and the leper girl across the street 
 in the end room!" Her voice had sunk to a harsh 
 whisper; now it rose again. "Chicago all right. I 
 wouldn t care if it weren t. Baltimore he never was 
 in Baltimore. But what s the matter with Denver? 
 Somebody s been to Denver!" She turned her gaze 
 point-blank upon Francis. 
 
 He met it fairly. 
 
 "Oh, no, Mamsy, nobody ever goes to Denver, 
 Mamsy dear!" 
 
 She knelt down and groped tentatively, sensitively, 
 across the layer of dust that sloped toward the corner, 
 by the bay-window. She turned, still on all-fours, to 
 shake her finger at him, and say solemnly: "Don t 
 
PROLOGUE 13 
 
 ever go to Denver, Francis! Denver s a bad place, 
 a very wicked place. They gamble in Denver, they 
 gamble yellow money away." She arose, apparently 
 either satisfied or diverted in her quest, to turn her 
 back to the boy and look inside the bag she had been 
 holding. 
 
 "Go outside, Francis!" she commanded, after fum 
 bling with its contents. 
 
 He walked to the door and passed into the hall. 
 Here he waited, listening listlessly, drumming softly 
 upon the railing. The room was silent for a while ; 
 then he heard a muffled pounding, as of one stamping 
 down the surface of the matted dirt. At last she 
 called him and he went in again. Madam Grant s 
 face was placid and kind. 
 
 She proceeded to occupy herself busily at the little 
 oil stove, putting into the greasy frying-pan some chops 
 which she had brought home with her. The splutter 
 ing and the pungent odor of the frying fat soon filled 
 the two rooms. She cut a few slices from a loaf of 
 stale bread, and set the meager repast forth upon the 
 top of a wooden box. 
 
 "Come and have dinner, Francis!" she said, with a 
 sweet look at him. 
 
 That the boy was far older than his years was evi 
 dent by the way he watched her and took his cue 
 from her, humoring her in her madder moments, 
 restraining her in her moods of mystic exaltation, 
 pathetically affectionate during her lucid intervals. 
 She was in this last phase now, and from time to 
 time, in the course of their meal, his hand stole to 
 hers. Its pressure was softly returned. 
 
 "What have you read to-day?" 
 
I 4 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I finished Gulliver." 
 
 "What did you think of it?" 
 
 "Why, somehow, it seemed just like it might be 
 true." 
 
 "At if it might be true, Francis what did I tell 
 you?" Her tone grew severe, almost pedagogic. 
 "You must be careful of your talk, my boy! Never 
 forget ; it is important. You ll never get on if you re 
 careless and common. You will often be judged by 
 your speech. What else did you read?" 
 
 "I tried Montaigne s Essays, but I couldn t under 
 stand much. It seemed so dull to me. But there s one, 
 Whether the Governor of a Place Besieged Ought 
 Himself to go out to Parley. I like that !" 
 
 Madam Grant laughed. "I d like to have known 
 Montaigne ; he was a kind of old maid, but he was a 
 modern, after all; common sense will do if you can t 
 get humor." 
 
 "Where did you get all these books, Mamsy?" 
 
 Her face grew blank again; her eyes wandered. 
 She recited in a sort of croon : 
 
 "Heard, have you? what? they have told you he never re 
 pented his sin. 
 
 How do they know it? are they his mother? are you of 
 his kin?" 
 
 A frightened look came on the boy s face and his 
 hand went to hers again. 
 
 "Mamsy, Mamsy !" he cried. "Come back, Mamsy \ 
 I want you!" 
 
 She turned to him as if she had never seen him 
 before. "Oh !" she said, and drew aside. Then : "You 
 mustn t ask questions, my boy." 
 
PROLOGUE 15 
 
 "I won t, Mamsy." 
 
 "You re a good little boy and you came out of the 
 dark," she pursued. 
 
 "Out of the dark?" he repeated, tempting her on. 
 His curiosity was manifest. 
 
 "Don t you remember?" 
 
 "I m not sure. They was a place " 
 
 "There was a place," she corrected. 
 
 "There was a place where they beat me, and I ran 
 away, and I found you, and you were good to me." 
 
 "No, it is you who have been good I m not good; 
 I m bad, Francis." 
 
 "I know you re good, Mamsy, because you teach 
 me to do everything right, and I love you !" 
 
 With a quick impulse she clasped him to her, but 
 even as she did so, her face changed again, this time 
 with an expresssion of pain. She put her hand to her 
 heart suddenly and moaned. He watched her in terror. 
 
 "Get the bottle!" she commanded huskily, dropping 
 to the floor, to support herself on her elbow. 
 
 He ran to a little bath-room beside the closet, 
 brought a bottle and spoon, poured out a dose of the 
 medicine and put it to her lips. Finally she sat up, 
 listening. 
 
 "Somebody s coming. She is coming! Come here, 
 Francis ! Quickly !" 
 
 Taking him by the hand, she led him to the closet 
 in the back room, pushed him inside, closed the door 
 and locked it. 
 
 It was dark in the closet, but he knew its contents 
 as well as if he could see them. Upon a row of 
 shelves were account-books and papers covered with 
 dust. On nails in the wall his own small stock of 
 
16 THE HEART LINE 
 
 clothes hung, and in a wooden box on the floor were 
 his playthings blocks, a wooden horse, several pre 
 cious bits of twine and leather, a collection of spools 
 and a toy globe. He sat down on this box patiently 
 and waited. 
 
 Presently there came a knock at the hall door. 
 Madam Grant opened it and some one entered. He 
 heard his guardian s voice saying: 
 
 "Come in, Grace, here I am, such as I am, and here 
 you are, such as you are." Then her voice changed, 
 becoming tremulous and excited. "Ah, but she s 
 beautiful! May I kiss her, Grace? Oh, what eyes! 
 Her father s eyes, aren t they? Don t be afraid, 
 Grace, let her come to me." 
 
 There was a reply in a soft voice which Francis 
 could not make out, as they passed into the front 
 room. He tried to peep through the keyhole, but as 
 the key had been left in, he could see nothing. He 
 sat down upon the box again to wait, playing with 
 his toy globe. After a while he noticed a thin streak 
 of light admitted by a crack in the panel of the door, 
 and rose to see if he could see through it. At the 
 height of his eye it was too narrow to show him 
 anything in the room, but farther up it widened. He 
 pulled down several account-books from the shelves 
 and piled them upon the box. Standing tiptoe upon 
 these, he found that he could get a clear though lim 
 ited view of the bay-window. 
 
 Here a little girl sat quietly, vividly illuminated in 
 the sunshine. She was scarcely more than four years 
 of age and was dressed in a navy blue silk frock whose 
 collar and pockets were elaborately trimmed with 
 ruffles of white satin and bows of ribbon. She wore 
 
PROLOGUE 17 
 
 a white muslin cap decorated with ribbon, lace and 
 rosebuds; white stockings showed above her high 
 buttoned boots; her hair was a truant mass of fine 
 spun threads, curling, tawny yellow. Her face was 
 round, her eyes extraordinarily wide apart under level, 
 straight brows. What caught and held his attention, 
 however, as he watched, was a velvety mole upon her 
 left cheek, so placed as to be a piquant ornament rather 
 than a disfigurement to her countenance. She sat 
 listening, tightly holding a woolly lamb in her plump 
 little arms. The two women were out of his range 
 of vision. 
 
 The steady low sound of voices came to him, but 
 he made no attempt to listen his attention was riv 
 eted upon the figure of the little girl who was sharply 
 focused, as in an opera-glass, directly in his field of 
 view. Occasionally, as she was spoken to, she smiled, 
 and her cheek dimpled ; but she seemed to be looking 
 at him, through the door. She scarcely moved her 
 eyes, but kept them fixed in his direction, as if con 
 scious of an invisible presence. 
 
 The women talked on. Occasionally Madam Grant s 
 voice rose to a more excited note, and a few words 
 came to him, betraying to his knowledge of her that 
 her mood had been interrupted by her customary 
 vagaries. At such times the little girl would with 
 draw her glance to gaze solemnly in Madam Grant s 
 direction; she showed, however, no signs of alarm. 
 It seemed, indeed, as if the little girl understood, even 
 as he understood, the temporary aberration. Then her 
 eyes would return to his, as if drawn back by his gaze. 
 
 So the scene lasted for a half-hour, during which 
 time he caught no glimpse of the other visitor. At 
 
18 THE HEART LINE 
 
 last a hand was outstretched and the little girl rose. 
 Francis stepped down for a moment to rest himself 
 from his strained position; when he had put his eye 
 again to the crack she had passed out of his line of 
 sight. 
 
 He was to catch a few words more, however, before 
 the callers left. 
 
 "I m glad you came to-day," Madam Grant said. 
 "You were just in time." 
 
 "Why, are you going to leave here?" 
 
 "Yes, I m going away." 
 
 "Felicia," the visitor said earnestly, "why won t you 
 let us take care of you? This is no place for you > 
 it is dreadful to think of you here ! Now, while you 
 are able to talk to me, do let me do something for 
 you !" 
 
 "No; it s too late. Besides, there is Francis," said 
 Madam Grant. 
 
 "Let Francis come, too. This is a terrible place 
 for a child. Look at this room look at the filth and 
 disorder!" 
 
 Madam Grant s voice rose again. "Take her away, 
 take her away!" she cried raucously. "She ll go to 
 New York, she ll go to Toledo I don t want her in 
 Toledo meddling! She ll be in New Orleans the first 
 thing you know ; there she goes now ! Take her away, 
 take her away!" 
 
 The door closed. Francis heard the key turn in 
 the lock. Then there was the jarring sound of a fall 
 and finally all was still. He waited for some moments, 
 then he called out: 
 
 "Mamsy, let me out! let me out!" 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
PROLOGUE 19 
 
 "Mamsy!" he called out again. "Where are you? 
 Come and let me out, please let me out !" 
 
 There was still no answer to his pleadings. In 
 terror now, he pounded the panels, shook the handle 
 of the door, and then began to cry. Climbing upon 
 the box again, he caught sight of Madam Grant s 
 skirt. She was lying prone upon the floor. As he 
 wept on, she moved and began to crawl slowly toward 
 him. At last her hand groped to the door and the 
 key was turned in the lock. He burst out into her 
 arms. 
 
 The blood was gone from her tense, anguished face ; 
 one hand clutched at her heart. She did not speak, 
 but gasped horribly for breath. There was no need 
 now for her to direct him. He poured out a dose of 
 medicine and forced it between her lips. He gave her 
 another spoonful; the drops trickled from her mouth 
 and stained the front of her crimson gown. Then, 
 with his assistance, she crept to his couch, pulled her 
 self upon it and lay down, groaning. He sat on the 
 floor beside her, stroking her hand. 
 
 For some time she was too weak to speak. Her 
 black eyebrows were drawn down, the cleft between 
 them was deep, like the gash of a knife. Her white 
 hair fell about her head in disorder. She drew a 
 ragged coverlid over her chest, as if suffering from 
 the cold, though the sun shone in upon her as she lay 
 and mercilessly illumined her desperate face. The 
 spasm of agony abated, and after some minutes she 
 breathed more freely. Then, with a sigh, her muscles 
 relaxed and her voice came clear and calm. 
 
 "You must be a good boy, Francis," she began, 
 "for I am going away. It s all over now with the 
 
20 THE HEART LINE 
 
 worry and the puzzle and the pain. What will you 
 do, I wonder? Oliver might help, perhaps. Oliver 
 isn t so bad, down in his heart. He was fair enough. 
 There s money enough. Francis, when I fall asleep, 
 look in the trunk and hide the money, if you can 
 don t let them get it away from you! Wait till I m 
 asleep, though the key is in my bag. What a fool 
 I was! I might have known. There was my grand 
 mother, she was mad, too. It may stop with me oh, 
 she was a dear little thing, though!" 
 
 "Who was the little girl, Mamsy ?" Francis inquired, 
 his curiosity overcoming his fear for her. 
 
 "Born with a veil, born with a veil! I was a sev 
 enth daughter, too much good it did me ! I could tell 
 others who could tell me? Bosh! it s all rubbish 
 we ll never know ! fol-de-rol, Francis, it s all gammon 
 all but Weenie. Weenie knows. Yellow hair, too ; 
 it will grow gray soon enough !" Then, as if she had 
 just heard his question she broke our querulously, 
 "Where did you see her?" 
 
 "I looked through a crack in the door, Mamsy." 
 
 She pulled herself up in a frenzy of anger and shook 
 her finger at him. "Oh, you did, did you? You 
 snooping, sniping monkey! I ll tell you what you 
 were looking at, you were watching the train to New 
 York! You ll go to Toledo, will you? You won t 
 find anything there. Go to New Orleans ; there s 
 plenty to find out in New Orleans! In Denver, too, 
 and way stations, but be careful, be careful ! I was 
 born in Toledo." She sank back exhausted. 
 
 "Don t be worried, Mamsy," said Francis, attempt 
 ing to calm her. "I won t never go to Toledo, 
 Mamsy!" 
 
PROLOGUE 21 
 
 Won t never !" She glared at him. "What did 
 I say about double negatives, boy? Two negatives 
 make a positive, two pints make a quart, two fools 
 make a quarrel, two quarrels make a fool. What 
 language! I was at Vassar, too I was secretary of 
 my class! Oh, I want to see Victoria! She would 
 understand, I m sure! Oh, Francis!" Her voice 
 dwindled away and her eyes closed. 
 
 For a moment she seemed to be asleep. Then a 
 sudden convulsion frightened him. She spoke again 
 without raising her lids. 
 
 "Why, there s mother ! Come and kiss me, mother ! 
 Did Weenie send for you, mother? Oh, Weenie! 
 Who s the old man? Father? I never saw father on 
 this side, did I, Weenie? He passed out when I was 
 very little, didn t he? So many people! Why, the 
 room is full of them ! Yes, I m coming " 
 
 The boy was tugging frantically at her hand, calling 
 to her without ceasing, sobbing in his fright. He 
 succeeded at last in bringing her out of her trance and 
 she opened her eyes to stare at him. Her breath was 
 coming harder. With a great effort she reached for 
 the boy s head and pulled it nearer, gazing into his 
 frightened eyes. 
 
 "Poor Francis !" she gasped. "You ve been so good, 
 dear you ve been my hope! Felicia Grant s hope! 
 You have no name, dear; take that one, instead of 
 mine Francis Granthope oh, this pain!" 
 
 "Shan t I get you the medicine ?" he asked, sobbing. 
 
 "No, it s no use." She pushed him gently 
 away. "I m going to sleep now Don t call 
 me back, Francis; I want rest. Remember the 
 trunk good-by !" 
 
22 THE HEART LINE 
 
 She closed her eyes and rolled over on her side, 
 turning her face away from him. 
 
 He waited half an hour in silence. Then he put his 
 hands to her arms softly. 
 
 "Mamsy!" he said quietly but insistently. "Are 
 you asleep, Mamsy ?" There was no answer. 
 
 He arose and looked for her leather bag. He 
 found it on the floor where she had fallen. Opening 
 it, he found inside a heterogeneous collection 
 strings, hair-pins, peppermints, papers, a lock of hair in 
 an envelope, a photograph, several gold pieces, and 
 the key he took it and tiptoed into the little side room 
 with excited interest. He had never looked inside the 
 trunk before and his eagerness made his hands tremble 
 as he unlocked it. 
 
 On top was a tray filled with account-books and 
 papers, letters, folded newspapers and a mahogany 
 box. It was all he could do to lift it to get at what 
 was beneath. He struggled with it until he had tilted 
 it up and slid it down to the floor. 
 
 Below was a mass of white satin and lace. He 
 lifted this piece by piece, disclosing a heavy wedding 
 gown, silk-lined, wrapped in tissue paper, and many 
 accessories of an elaborate trousseau a half-dozen 
 pairs of silk stockings, a pair of exquisite white satin 
 slippers, a box of long white gloves, another of lace 
 handkerchiefs, dozens of mysterious articles of lingerie, 
 embroidered and lace-trimmed. In a lower corner was 
 a little, white vellum, gold-clasped prayer-book. 
 
 Lastly he found a package securely wrapped in 
 brown paper; opening this, he discovered six crisp, 
 green packages of bank-notes. These he rewrapped 
 and slid them inside his full blue blouse. Then he put 
 
PROLOGUE 23 
 
 everything back in order, replaced the tray and locked 
 the trunk. 
 
 Finally he stole back to the form upon the couch. 
 "Mamsy, are you awake ?" he whispered. 
 
 There was no answer, and he shook her shoulder 
 slightly. Then, as she made no reply, he leaned over 
 and looked at her face. Her eyes were open, fearfully 
 open, but they did not turn to his. They were set and 
 glazed with film. 
 
 A horror came over him now, and he shook her 
 with all his strength. 
 
 "Mamsy, Mamsy !" he cried. "Look at me, Mamsy ! 
 What s the matter?" 
 
 Still she did not look at him, or speak, or move. He 
 noticed that she was not breathing, and his fear over 
 came him. He dropped her cold hand and ran scream 
 ing out into the hall. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 
 
 Fancy Gray was the lady s name and the lady s hair 
 was red. Both were characteristic of her daringly 
 original character, for, as Fancy s name had once been 
 Fanny, Fanny s hair had once been brown. Further 
 indication of Miss Gray s disposition was to be found 
 in her eyebrows, which were whimsically arched, and 
 her mouth, which was scarlet-lipped and tightly held. 
 Another detail of significance was her green silk stock 
 ings, rather artfully displayed to lend a harmony to 
 her dark green cloth tailor-made suit, which fitted like 
 a kid glove over Miss Gray s cunningly rounded little 
 body. Her eyes were brown and bright ; they were as 
 quick as heliograph flashes, but could, when she 
 willed, burn as softly as glowing coals of fire. Her 
 face seemed freshly washed, her complexion was trans- 
 lucently clear, modified only by the violet shadows 
 under her eyes and an imperceptible tint of fine down 
 on her upper lip. Her hands, well beringed and well 
 kept, were fully worth the admiration which, by her 
 willingness to display them to advantage, she seemed 
 to expect on their account. 
 
 In New York, a good guesser would have put her 
 age at twenty-three; but, taking into account the 
 precocious effect of the California climate, nineteen 
 might be nearer the mark. She was, at all events, a 
 finished product; there was no evidence of diffidence 
 or gaucherie about Fancy Gray. She appeared to be 
 
 24 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 25 
 
 very well satisfied with herself. If, as she evidently 
 did, she considered herself beautiful, her claim would 
 undoubtedly be acknowledged by most men who met 
 her for the first time. On those more fastidious, she 
 had but to smile and her mouth grew still more gener 
 ous, showing a double line of white teeth, those in the 
 lower jaw being set slightly zigzag, as if they were 
 so pretty that it had been wished to put in as many as 
 possible her cheeks dimpled, her eyes half closed 
 and she triumphed over her critic. For there was 
 something more dangerous than beauty in that smile; 
 there was an elfin humor that captured and bewil 
 dered there was warmth and welcome in it. It made 
 one feel happy. 
 
 As she sat at her desk in the waiting-room she could 
 look across the corner of Geary and Powell Streets to 
 catch the errant eye of passing cable-car conductors, 
 or gaze, i-n abstraction, at pedestrians crossing Union 
 Square, or at the oriental towers of the Synagogue 
 beyond. With the bait of a promising smile, she 
 caught many an upward glance. Fancy Gray was not 
 in the habit of hiding her charms, and she levied 
 tribute to her beauty on all mankind. She gazed upon 
 women, however, far less indulgently than upon men ; 
 never was there a more captious observer of her sex. 
 A glance up and a glance down she gave; and the 
 specimen was classified, appraised, appreciated, con 
 demned, condoned or complimented. Not a pin missed 
 her scrutiny, not a variation of the mode escaped her 
 quest for revealing evidence. A woman could hardly 
 pass from contact with Fancy s swift glance without 
 being robbed, mentally, of everything worth while that 
 she possessed in the matter of novelty in fashion or 
 
26 THE HEART LINE 
 
 deportment. Fancy appropriated the ideas thus gained, 
 and made use of them at the earliest opportunity. 
 The waiting-room bore, upon the outside, the legend : 
 
 FRANCIS GRANTHOPE, PALMIST 
 
 Inside, where Fancy sat daily from ten to four, the 
 apartment was walled and carpeted in red. Upon 
 the walls, painted wooden Chinese grotesque masks, 
 grinning or scowling against the fire-cracker paper, 
 hung, at intervals, from black stained woodwork. 
 Between the two windows was a plaster column bear 
 ing the winged head of Hypnos; at the other end of 
 the room was a row of casts of hands hanging on 
 hooks against a black panel. The desk in the corner 
 was Fancy s station, and here she murmured into the 
 telephone, scribbled appointments in a blank-book, read 
 The Second Wife, gazed out into the green square, 
 or manicured her nails according as the waiting- 
 room chairs were empty, or occupied with men or with 
 women. Whatever company she had, she was never 
 careless of the light upon her or the condition of 
 her tinted hair. 
 
 It was a cool, blustering afternoon in August. 
 San Francisco was at its worst phase. The wind 
 was high and harsh, harassing the city with its 
 burden of dust. Over the mountains, on the 
 Marin shore, a high fog hung, its advance guard 
 scudding in through the Golden Gate, piling over 
 the hills by the Twin Peaks and preparing its 
 line of battle for a general assault upon the pe 
 ninsula at nightfall. In the streets men and women 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 27 
 
 clung to their hats savagely as they passed gusty 
 corners, and coat collars were turned up against the 
 raw air. Summer had, so far, spent its effort in four 
 violently hot days, when the humid atmosphere made 
 the temperature unbearable. Now the weather had 
 flung back to an extreme as unpleasant; open fires 
 were in order. There was one now burning in 
 Granthope s reception-room, to which Fancy Gray 
 made frequent excursions. She was there, making a 
 picture of herself beside the hearth, having resolutely 
 held her pose for some time in anticipation of his 
 coming, when Francis Granthope arrived. 
 
 Tall, erect and able-bodied, with the physique of an 
 athlete, and a strong, leonine head covered with crisp, 
 waving, black hair, Francis Granthope had the comple 
 ment of the actor s type of looks ; but his alertness of 
 carriage and his swift, searching glance distinguished 
 him from the professional male beauty. Fine eyes of 
 deep, rich blue, fine teeth often exposed in compelling 
 smiles, a resolute mouth and a firm, deeply cleft chin 
 he had; and all these attractions were set off by his 
 precise dress gloves, bell-tailed overcoat, sharply 
 creased trousers, varnished boots and silk hat. A 
 short mustache, curling upward slightly at the ends, 
 and a small, triangular tuft of hair on his lower lip 
 gave him a somewhat foreign aspect. He had an air, a 
 manner, that kept up the illusion. Men would perhaps 
 have distrusted him as too obviously handsome ; women 
 would talk about him as soon as he had left the room. 
 Stage managers would have complimented his "pres 
 ence" ; children would have watched him, fascinated, 
 reserving their judgment. He seemed to fill the room 
 with electricity. 
 
28 THE HEART LINE 
 
 He sent a smile to Fancy, half of welcome, half of 
 amusement at her picturesque posture, and, with cor 
 dial "Good morning!" in a mellow barytone, removed 
 his overcoat and hat, putting them into a closet near 
 the hall door. He reappeared in morning coat, white 
 waistcoat and pin-checked trousers, with a red car 
 nation in his buttonhole. He held his hands for a 
 moment before the fire, then looked indulgently at his 
 blithe assistant. 
 
 Now, one of Fancy s charms was a slender, pointed 
 tongue. This she was wont to exhibit, on occasion, 
 by sticking it out of her mouth coquettishly, and 
 shaking it saucily in the direction of her nostrils a 
 joyous exploit which was vouchsafed only upon rare 
 and intimate occasions. This, now, she did, tilting her 
 head backward to give piquancy to the performance. 
 
 Granthope laughed, and went over to where she sat. 
 
 "You re a saucy bird, Fancy," he commented, lean 
 ing over her, both hands upon the desk. "Do you 
 know I rather like you !" 
 
 Her face grew drolly sober ; her whimsical eyebrows 
 lifted. 
 
 "I don t know as I blame you," she replied. "You 
 always did have good taste, though." 
 
 "I believe that I might go so far as to imprint a 
 salute upon your chaste brow !" 
 
 "I accept!" said Fancy Gray. 
 
 He stooped over and kissed her. She was graciously 
 resigned. 
 
 "Thank you, Frank," she said demurely. "Small 
 contributions gratefully received." She tucked her 
 head into the corner of his arm, and he looked down 
 upon her kindly. 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 29 
 
 "Poor little Fancy!" he said softly. 
 
 "Have you missed me, Frank?" 
 
 "Horribly !" 
 
 "Don t laugh at me !" 
 
 "How can I help it, O toy queen ?" 
 
 "Am I so awfully young?" 
 
 "You re pretty juvenile, Fancy, but you ll grow up, 
 I think." 
 
 She was quite sober now. "Oh, there s an awful 
 lot of time wasted in growing up," she said. Then 
 she squirmed her head so that she could look upward 
 at him. "You ve been awfully good to me, Frank!" 
 Her tone was wistful. 
 
 "You deserve more than you will ever get, I m 
 afraid," was his answer as he patted her hair. 
 
 "I think you do like me a little." 
 
 He shook his finger at her. "No fair falling in 
 love!" 
 
 She laughed. "I believe you re afraid, Frank!" 
 
 "I don t know what I d do without you, Fancy. 
 We ve been through a good deal together, first and 
 last, haven t we?" 
 
 "Yes, we ve had a good time. I d like to do it all 
 over again." 
 
 "Heavens, no !" he exclaimed. "I wouldn t ! There s 
 enough ahead. From what I ve seen of life, things 
 Idon t really begin to happen till you re thirty, at least. 
 All this will seem like a dream." 
 
 "Sometimes I hope it will." Fancy was looking 
 away, now. Her gaze returned to him after a moment 
 of silence. "Don t you ever think of getting out of 
 this, Frank? You re too good for these fakirs, really 
 you are ! Why, you could mix with millionaires, easy ! 
 
30 THE HEART LINE 
 
 And you ve got a good start, now. They like you. 
 You ve got the style and the education and the know* 
 for it." 
 
 He went back to the fireplace, standing there with 
 his hands behind his back. 
 
 "Oh, this is amusing enough. What does it matter, 
 anyway? There are as big fools and shams in society 
 as there are in my business. Look at the women that 
 come down here, and the things they tell me! Why, 
 I know them a good deal better now than I should if 
 I were on their calling-lists and took tea with them! 
 But you are right, in a way. I suppose some day I 
 must quit this and take to honest theft." 
 
 "Don t say that, Frank! I hate you when you re 
 cynical." 
 
 "What else can I be, in my profession?" 
 
 "Oh, I do want you to quit, Frank, really I do, and 
 yet, I hate to think of it. What should I do? I d lose 
 you sure ! I could never make good with the swells. 
 I m only a drifter." 
 
 "Oh, you can t lose me, Fan; we ve pulled together 
 too long. You could make good all right. You ve got 
 a pose and a poise that some ladies would give their 
 teeth for. I don t believe you ve ever really been sur 
 prised in your life, have you ?" 
 
 "I guess not." Fancy shook her head thoughtfully. 
 When I dm surprised, it ll be a woman who ll do it. 
 No man can, that s sure." 
 
 "No. I fancy you know all there is to know about 
 men. I wish I did. You ll do, Fancy Gray!" He 
 approached her and playfully chucked her under the 
 chin. Then he looked at her gravely. "I wonder why 
 you re willing to drudge along here with me, anyway. 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 31 
 
 You could get a much better position easily with 
 your face and brains." 
 
 "And figure. Don t forget that!" Fancy shook 
 her finger at him. v 
 
 "Yes." He looked her over approvingly. 
 
 "No woman ought to be blue with a figure like mine, 
 ought she?" 
 
 He laughed. "I can t imagine your ever being blue. 
 Fancy!" 
 
 Fancy opened her eyes very wide. 
 
 "There s a whole lot you don t know about women 
 yet," she said sagely. 
 
 "That s likely." 
 
 "Am I to understand that I m fired, then?" She 
 tried to appear demure. 
 
 "Not yet. I m only too afraid you ll resign. It s 
 queer you don t get married. You must have had lots 
 of chances. Why don t you, Fancy?" 
 
 "I never explain," said Fancy. "It only wastes 
 time." 
 
 He went over to her again and very affectionately 
 boxed her ears. 
 
 She freed herself, and turned her face up to him. 
 "Frank," she said, "do you think I m pretty?" 
 
 "You re too pretty that s the trouble !" he answered, 
 smiling, as at a familiar trait. 
 
 "No, but really do you honestly think so?" Her 
 face had again grown plaintive. 
 
 "Yes, Fancy. Far be it from me to flatter or cajole 
 with the compliments of a five-dollar reading, but as 
 between friends, and with my hand on my heart, I 
 assert that you are beautiful." 
 
 "I don t mean that at all," said Fancy. "I want to be 
 
32 THE HEART LINE 
 
 pretty. That s what men like pretty girls. Beautiful 
 women never get anywhere except into the divorce 
 courts. Do say I m pretty !" 
 
 "Fancy, you know I m a connoisseur of women. 
 You are actually and absolutely pretty." 
 
 "Well, that s a great relief, if I can only believe you. 
 I have to hear it once a day, at least, to keep up my 
 courage. Now that s settled, let s go to work." 
 
 He went back to the fireplace and yawned. "All 
 right. What s doing to-day?" 
 
 "Full up, except from eleven to twelve." 
 
 "Who are they?" 
 
 Fancy jauntily flipped open the appointment book 
 and ran her forefinger down the page. 
 
 "Ten o clock, stranger, Fleurette Heller. Telephone 
 appointment. Girl with a nice voice." 
 
 "Be sure and look at her," Granthope remarked; "I 
 may want a tip." 
 
 "Ten-thirty, Mrs. Page." 
 
 Granthope smiled and Fancy smiled. 
 
 "Do you remember what I told her?" 
 
 Fancy looked puzzled. "What do you mean? About 
 her husband?" 
 
 "No, not that. The last time she came I tried a 
 psychological experiment with her. I told her that 
 normally she was a quiet, restrained, modest, discreet 
 woman, but that at times her emotional nature would 
 get the better of her; that she couldn t help breaking 
 out and would suddenly let go. I thought she was 
 about due this week. There s been something doing 
 and she wants to tell me about it to appease her con 
 science. Give them what they want, and anything 
 goes!" 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 33 
 
 Fancy listened, frowning, the point of her pencil 
 between her lips. "You don t need any of my tips on 
 Mrs. Page," she said with sarcasm. "At eleven, Mr. 
 Summer, whoever he is." 
 
 "I don t care, if he s got the price." 
 
 "It bores you to read for men, doesn t it, Frank? I 
 wish you d let me do it." 
 
 As she spoke, the telephone bell on the desk rang, 
 and she took up the receiver, drooping her head 
 coquettishly. 
 
 "Yes?" she said dreamily, her eyes on Granthope, 
 who had lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "Yes, half-past eleven o clock, if that would be con 
 venient. What name, please? . . . No, any name will 
 do Miss Smith? All right good-by." 
 
 She entered the appointment in her book, and then 
 remarked decidedly, "She s pretty !" 
 
 "No objections ; they re my specialty," Granthope 
 replied ; "only I doubt it." 
 
 "Never failed yet," said Fancy. 
 
 Granthope looked at his watch, then passed through 
 a red anteroom to his studio beyond. Fancy began to 
 draw little squares and circles and fuzzy heads of men 
 with mustaches upon a sheet of paper. In a few 
 moments the palmist returned, his morning coat 
 replaced by a black velvet jacket tight-fitting and but 
 toned close. 
 
 "Oh, Fancy, take a few notes, please ; you didn t get 
 that last one yesterday, I believe." 
 
 She reached for a lacquered tin box, containing a 
 card catalogue, withdrew a blank slip and dipped her 
 pen in the ink. Then, as he stopped to think, she 
 remarked : 
 
34 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I don t see why you go to all this trouble, Frank. 
 Nobody else does. You ve a good enough memory, 
 and I think it s silly. I feel as if I were a bookkeeper 
 in a business house." 
 
 "One might as well be systematic," he returned. 
 "There s no knowing when all this will come in handy. 
 I don t intend to give five-dollar readings all my life. 
 I m going to develop this thing till it s a fine art. 
 I ve got to do something to dignify the trade. This 
 doesn t use nearly all that s in me. I wish I had some 
 thing to do that would take all my intellect it s all 
 too easy! I don t half try. But it s a living. God 
 knows I don t care for the money nor for fame either, 
 for that matter. Fame s a gold brick ; you always pay 
 more for it than it s worth. I suppose it s the sheer 
 love of the game. I have a scientific delight in doing 
 my stunt better than it has ever been done before. 
 Some play on fiddles, I play on women and make 
 em dance, too! Some love machinery, some study 
 electricity but the wireless, wheel-less mechanics of 
 psychology for mine. Practical psychology with a 
 human laboratory. Pour the acid of flattery, and 
 human litmus turns red with delight. Try the 
 alkali of disapproval, and it grows blue with disap 
 pointment. I give them a run for their money, too., 
 I make life wonderful for poor fools who haven t the 
 wit to do it for themselves. I peddle imagination, 
 Fancy." 
 
 "You get good prices," Fancy said, smiling a bit 
 sadly. "There are perquisites. There aren t many men 
 who have the chances you do, Frank. Women are cer 
 tainly crazy about you, and now that you re taken up 
 by the smart set, I expect you will be spoiled pretty 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 35 
 
 quick/ She shook her head coquettishly and dropped 
 her eyes. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "I should think you 
 would be almost ashamed of being a woman, Fan, 
 sometimes," he said. "They are all alike, I believe." 
 
 Fancy bridled. Then she bit her lip. "You ll meet 
 your match some day !" 
 
 "God, I hope so! It ll make things interesting. 
 Nothing matters now. I haven t really wanted any 
 thing for years; and when you don t want anything, 
 Fancy, the garlands are hung for you in every house." 
 
 "Did you ever have a conscience, Frank?" 
 
 "Not I. I shouldn t know what to do with it, if I 
 had one. I don t see much difference between right 
 and wrong. We give them what they want, as clergy 
 men do. It may be true and it may be false. So may 
 religion. There are a hundred different kinds some 
 of them teach that you ought to kill your grandmother 
 when she gets to be fifty years old. Some teach 
 clothing and some teach nakedness. Some preach 
 chastity and some the other thing. Who s going to 
 tell what s right ? My readings are scientific ; my pre 
 dictions may be true, for all I know. Some I help and 
 some I harm, no doubt. But from all I can see, God 
 Himself does that. Take that Bennett affair ! He lost 
 his money, but didn t he have a good taste of life? 
 We ll never know the truth, anyway. Why not fool 
 fools who think there s an answer to everything, and 
 make em happy? Do you remember that first time 
 we played for Harry Wing? I was new at it then. 
 When I crawled through the panel and put on the robe, 
 the tears were streaming down my face to think I was 
 going to fool an old man into believing I was his dead 
 
36 THE HEART LINE 
 
 son. What was the result? He was so happy that he 
 gave me his gold watch to be dematerialized for 
 identification. He got more solid satisfaction and 
 comfort out of that trick than he had out of a year of 
 sermons. I only wish I could fool myself as easily as 
 I can fool others then I could be happy myself." 
 
 "Why, aren t you happy, Frank?" Fancy asked, her 
 eyes full of him. "I wish I could do something to 
 make you happy Fd do anything!" 
 
 "Oh, Fm not unhappy," he said lightly, neglecting 
 her appeal. "I can t seem to suffer any more than I 
 can really enjoy. I suppose I haven t any soul. I need 
 ambition inspiration. But we must get to work. 
 Are you ready?" 
 
 Fancy nodded. 
 
 "August 5th," he dictated. "Mrs. Riley. Age sixty- 
 five. Spatulate, extreme type. Wrist, B. Fingers, 
 B, X, 5. Life 27. Head 18. Heart 4. Fate 12. 3 
 girdles. Venus B. Mars A. Thumb phalange over 
 developed. Right, ditto. Now : married three times, 
 arm broken in 94, one daughter, takes cocaine, inter 
 ested in mines. Last husband knew General Custer 
 and Lew Wallace. Accidentally drowned, 1877. 
 Accused of murder and acquitted in 1878. Very poor. 
 
 "Don t forget to look up Lew Wallace, Fancy ! Go 
 down to the library to-night, will you ?" he said, laying 
 down his note-book. 
 
 "Where did you ever get that old dame?" 
 
 "Madam Spoil sent her here. She s easy, but no 
 money in her. Still, I like to be thorough, even with 
 charity cases; you never know what may come of 
 them." 
 
 The telephone bell prevented Fancy s reply. She 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 37 
 
 took up the receiver and said "Yes" in a languishing 
 drawl. 
 
 "Yes. Number 15? .... Payson? Spell it .... 
 Kold the line a minute." She turned to Granthope, 
 her ear still to the receiver, her hand muffling the 
 mouth-piece. 
 
 "Funny. Speak of angels here s Madam Spoil 
 now ! She wants to know if you ve got anything about 
 Oliver Payson?" 
 
 "Payson?" he repeated. "Oliver Payson? No, I 
 don t think so, have we?" 
 
 "I don t remember the name, but I ll -run over 
 the cards. Talk about method! I wish Madam 
 Spoil had some! P., Packard, Page no; no Payson 
 here." She returned to the telephone. "No, we have 
 nothing at all. Good-by." Then she hung up the 
 receiver. 
 
 Granthope, meanwhile, had been walking up and 
 down the room, frowning. 
 
 "It s queer that name is somehow familiar; I ve 
 heard of it somewhere. Oliver Payson Oliver Pay- 
 son." 
 
 "Funny how you never can think of a thing when 
 you want to," said Fancy, sharpening her pencil. 
 
 "I know something about Oliver Payson," Granthope 
 insisted. "But it s no use, I can t get it. Perhaps it 
 will come to me." 
 
 "You never know what you can do till you stop try 
 ing," Fancy offered sagely. 
 
 Granthope spoke abstractedly, gazing at the ceiling. 
 "It s something about a picture, it seems to me." 
 
 He walked into his studio, still puzzling with blurred 
 memories. Fancy took up The Second Wife. 
 
38 THE HEART LINE 
 
 At ten o clock the door opened, and Fancy s hand 
 flew to her back hair. A girl of perhaps twenty years 
 with intense eyes entered timidly. Her hair was dis 
 tracted by the wind and her color was high, increasing 
 the charm of her pretty, earnest, finely freckled face. 
 She wore a jacket a little too small for her, with frayed 
 cuffs. Her shoes were badly worn ; her hat was cheap, 
 but effective. 
 
 "I called to see Mr. Granthope; I think I have an 
 appointment at ten," she said. 
 
 "Miss Heller?" Fancy asked. The girl nodded. 
 Fancy took inventory of the girl s points, looking her 
 up and down before she replied, "All right; just be 
 seated for a moment, please." 
 
 She walked to the studio and met Granthope coming 
 out. They spoke in whispers. 
 
 "Let her down easy," Fancy suggested. "It s a love 
 affair. She has a letter in her coat pocket, all folded 
 up; you can see the wrinkles where it bulges out. 
 Hat pin made of an army button, and she doesn t 
 know enough to paint. Make her take off her coat 
 and see if her right sleeve isn t soiled above where she 
 usually wears a paper cuff to protect it. She is half 
 frightened to death and she has been crying." 
 
 "All right," said Granthope. "I ll give her five dol 
 lars worth of optimism." 
 
 Fancy put her hand in his softly. "Say, Frank, just 
 charge this to me and be good to her, will you ?" 
 
 "All right. If you like her, I ll do my best. She ll 
 be smiling when she comes out, you see if she isn t." 
 
 As the girl went in for her reading, Mrs. Page walked 
 into the reception-room, and nodded condescendingly. 
 She was a dashing woman of thirty-five, full of the 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 39 
 
 exuberance and flamboyant color of California. Her 
 hair was jet black and glossy, massively coiled upon her 
 head; her features were large, but regular and well 
 formed ; her figure somewhat voluptuous in its tightly 
 fitting tailor suit of black. She was a vivid creature, 
 with impellent animal life and temperament linked, 
 apparently, to a rather silly, feminine brain. Her 
 mouth was large, and in it white teeth shone. She was 
 all shadows and flashes, high lights and depths of 
 velvety black. From her ears, two spots of diamond 
 radiance twinkled as she shook her head. When she 
 drew off her gloves, with a manner, more twinkles 
 illuminated her hands. Still others shone from the 
 cut steel buckles of her shoes. She was somewhat 
 overgrown, flavorless and gaudy, like California fruit, 
 and her ways were kittenish. Her movements were 
 all intense. When she looked at anything, she opened 
 her eyes very wide ; when she spoke she pursed her lips 
 a bit too much. Altogether she seemed to have a 
 superfluous ounce of blood in her veins that infused 
 her with useless energy. 
 
 Fancy eyed her pragmatically, added her up, 
 extracted her square root and greatest common divisor. 
 The result she reached was evident only by the 
 imperious way in which she invited her to be seated 
 and the nonchalant manner in which, after that, she 
 gazed out upon Geary Street. 
 
 Mrs. Page, however, would be loquacious. 
 
 "Shall I have to wait long?" she asked. "I have 
 an engagement at eleven and I simply must see Mr. 
 Granthope first ! It s very important." 
 
 "I don t know," said Fancy coolly. "It depends 
 upon whether he has an interesting sitter or not. 
 
40 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Sometimes he s an hour, and sometimes he s only 
 fifteen minutes." She spoke with a slightly stinging 
 emphasis, examining, meanwhile, the spots on her own 
 finger-nails. 
 
 "Oh," said Mrs Page, and it was evident that the 
 remark gave her an idea as to her own personal powers 
 of attraction. "I thought Mr. Granthope treated all 
 his patrons alike." 
 
 "Sometimes he does and sometimes he doesn t," was 
 Fancy s cryptic retort. She watched the effect under 
 drooped lashes. 
 
 The effect was to make Mrs. Page squirm uneasily, 
 as if she didn t know whether she had been hit or not. 
 She took refuge in the remark : "Well, I hope he will 
 give me a good reading this time." 
 
 "It all depends on what s in your hand," Fancy 
 followed her up, smiling amiably. 
 
 Mrs. Page minced and simpered: "Do you know, 
 somehow I hate to have him look at my hand, after 
 what he said before. He told me such dreadful things, 
 I m afraid he ll discover more." 
 
 "Why do you give him a chance, then ?" said Fancy 
 coldly. 
 
 "Oh, I hope he ll find something better, this time !" 
 
 "Weren t you satisfied with what he gave you?" 
 Fancy asked. "I have found Mr. Granthope usually 
 strikes it about right." 
 
 "Oh, of course, I m satisfied," Mrs. Page admitted. 
 "In fact, I trust him so implicitly that I have acted 
 on his advice. But it s rather dreadful to know the 
 truth, don t you think ?" 
 
 Fancy nodded her head soberly. "Sometimes it is." 
 She accented the adverb mischievously. 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 41 
 
 "Oh, I don t mean what you mean at all !" 
 
 "I know. You mean it s dreadful to have other 
 people know the truth?" 
 
 "No ; but I can t help my character, can I ? It s not 
 my fault if I have faults. It s all written in my palm 
 and I can t alter it. Only, I mean it s awful to know 
 exactly what s going to happen and not be able to 
 prevent it." 
 
 "It s worse not to want to." Fancy waved her hand 
 to some one in the street. 
 
 Mrs. Page withdrew from the conversation, routed, 
 and devoted herself to a study of the Chinese masks, 
 casting an occasional impatient glance into the ante 
 room. Fancy polished her rings with her handker 
 chief. 
 
 Granthope s voice was now heard, talking pleas 
 antly with Fleurette, who was smiling, as he had 
 promised. As she left, flushed and happy, Granthope 
 greeted Mrs. Page, and escorted her, bubbling with 
 talk, into the studio. The door closed upon a per 
 vading odor of sandalwood, Mrs. Page s legacy to 
 Fancy, who sniffed at it scornfully. 
 
 Many cable-cars had passed without Fancy s having 
 recognized any one worth bowing to, before the next 
 client appeared ; but, at that visitor s entry, she became 
 a different creature. Her eyes never really left him, 
 although she seemed, as he waited, to be busy about 
 many things. 
 
 He was a smart young man, a sort of a bank-clerk 
 person, dressed neatly, with evidence of considerable 
 premeditation. His hair was parted in the middle, 
 his face was cleanly shaven. His sparkling, laughing 
 eyes, devilishly audacious, his pink cheeks and his cool 
 
42 THE HEART LINE 
 
 self-assured manner gave him an appearance of 
 juvenile, immaculate freshness, which rendered an 
 acquaintance with such a San Francisco girl as Fancy 
 Gray, easy and agreeable. He laid his hat and stick 
 against his hip jauntily, and asked: 
 
 "Could I get a reading from Mr. Granthope with 
 out waiting all day for it?" As he spoke he loosed a 
 frivolous, engaging glance at her. 
 
 "He ll be out in just a moment," Fancy replied with 
 more interest than she had heretofore shown. "Won t 
 you sit down and wait, please ?" 
 
 He withdrew his eyes long enough to gallop round 
 the room with them, but they returned to her like 
 horses making for a stable. He took a seat, pulled 
 up his trousers over his knees, drew down his cuffs, 
 felt the knot in his tie and smoothed his hair, all with 
 the quick, accurate motion due to long habit. "Horri 
 ble weather," he volunteered debonairly. 
 
 "It s something fierce, isn t it ?" said Fancy, opening 
 and shutting drawers, searching for nothing. "It 
 gets on my nerves. I wish we d have one good warm 
 day for a change." 
 
 "Been out to the beach lately?" he asked, eying her 
 with undisguised approval. He breathed on the crown 
 of his derby hat and then smelt of it. 
 
 "No," she replied. "I don t have much time to 
 myself. I hate to go alone, anyway." Fancy looked 
 aimlessly into the top drawer of her desk. 
 
 "That s too bad ! But I shouldn t think you tl ever 
 have to go alone. You don t look it." 
 
 "Really?" Fancy s tone was arch. 
 
 "That s right ! I know some one who d be willing 
 to chase out there with you at the drop of the hat." 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 43 
 
 Fancy, appearing to feel that the acquaintance was 
 making too rapid progress, said, "I don t care much 
 for the beach ; it s too crowded." 
 
 "That depends upon when you go. I ve got a car out 
 there where we could get lost easy enough. Then you 
 can have a quiet little dinner at the Cliff House almost 
 any night." 
 
 "Can you? I never tried it." 
 
 "It s time you did. Suppose you try it with me?" 
 
 Fancy opened her eyes very wide at him and let him 
 have the full benefit of her stare. "Isn t this rather 
 sudden? You re rushing it a little too fast, seems 
 to me." 
 
 "Not for me. I m sorry you can t keep up. You 
 don t look slow." 
 
 Fancy turned to her engagement book. 
 
 "You must have known some pretty easy ones," she 
 said sarcastically. 
 
 The snub did not silence him for long. He recrossed 
 his legs, drummed on the brim of his hat, and began : 
 
 "Say, did you ever go to Carminetti s ?" 
 
 "No, where is it?" 
 
 "Down on Davis Street. They have a pretty lively 
 time there on Sunday nights. Everybody goes, you 
 know gay old crowd. They sing and everything. 
 It s the only really Bohemian place in town now." 
 
 "I m never hungry on Sundays," Fancy said coolly. 
 
 "Nor thirsty, either?" 
 
 "Sir?" she said in mock reproof, and then burst 
 into a laugh. 
 
 "Say, you scared me all right, that time!" 
 
 "You don t look like you would be scared easy. 
 I guess it s kind of hard to call you down." 
 
44 THE HEART LINE 
 
 He folded his arms and squared his shoulders. "I 
 don t know," he said. "I don t seem to make much of 
 a hit with you!" 
 
 "Oh, you may improve!" 
 
 "Upon acquaintance?" 
 
 "Perhaps. You re not in a hurry, are you ?" 
 
 "That s what I am !" He went at her now with more 
 vigor. "I say, would you mind telling me your name ? 
 Here s my card." 
 
 He rose, and, walking over to the desk, laid down a 
 card upon which was printed, "Mr. Gay P. Summer." 
 Fancy examined it deliberately. Then she looked up 
 and said : 
 
 "My name is Miss Gray, if you must know. What 
 are you going to do about it ?" 
 
 "I ll show you !" he laughed, drawing nearer. 
 
 What might possibly have happened (for things do 
 happen in San Francisco) was interrupted by sounds 
 predicting Mrs. Page s return. 
 
 "Say, Miss Gray, I ll ring you up later and make a 
 date," he said under his breath. Then he turned to 
 Mrs. Page and stared her out of the room with undis 
 guised curiosity. 
 
 "You can see Mr. Granthope now," said Fancy, 
 unruffled by the competition. 
 
 He made an airy gesture and followed the palmist 
 into the anteroom. 
 
 Fancy grew listless and abstracted. After a while 
 she went to the closet, examined herself in the glass 
 on the door, adjusted the back of her belt, fluffed her 
 hair over her ears and reseated herself. Then she took 
 her book languidly and began to read. 
 
 There came a knock on the door. 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 45 
 
 "Come in," Fancy called out, arousing herself again. 
 
 The new-comer was one who, though at least twenty- 
 seven, was still graciously modeled with the lines of 
 youth. Her head was poised with spirit on her neck, 
 but, like a flower on its stem, ready to move with her 
 varying moods, from languor to vivacity. Her hair 
 was a light, tawny grayish-brown, almost yellow, 
 undulant and fine as gossamer. In the pure oval of her 
 face, under level, golden brows, her eyes were now 
 questioning, now peremptory, but usually smoldering 
 with dreams, hiding their color. Their customary 
 quiescence, however, was contradicted by the respon 
 siveness of her perfectly drawn mouth a springing 
 bow, like those of Du Maurier s most beautiful women. 
 The upper lip, narrow, scarlet, so short that it seldom 
 touched the lower, showed, beneath its lively curve, 
 a row of well-cut teeth. With such charm and delicacy 
 of person her small, flat ears and her proud, sensitive 
 nostrils fell into lovely accord. She wore a veil, and 
 was dressed in a concord of cool grays, modishly 
 accented with black. Her movements were slow and 
 graceful, as if she had never to hurry. 
 
 "I believe I have an appointment with Mr. 
 Granthope for half-past eleven," she said in a smooth, 
 low, rather monotonous voice. 
 
 "Miss Smith ?" Fancy asked briskly, but with a more 
 respectful manner than she had shown Mrs. Page. 
 
 The lady blushed an unnecessary pink, and blushed 
 again to find herself blushing. She admitted the 
 pseudonym with a nod. 
 
 "Take a seat, please," Fancy said. "Mr. Granthope 
 will be ready for you in a few minutes." Then her 
 eyes fluttered over the visitor s costume, rested for a 
 
46 THE HEART LINE 
 
 second upon her long black gloves, darted to her little, 
 patent-leather shoes, mounted to her black, picturesque 
 hat, and sought here and there, but without success, 
 for jewelry. 
 
 The lady took a seat in silence. She repaired the 
 mischief the wind had done to her hair, raising her 
 hand abstractedly, as she looked about the room. The 
 Chinese masks did not entertain her long, but the head 
 of Hypnos she appeared to recognize with interest. 
 From that to Fancy, and from Fancy to the row of 
 casts, her glance went, slowly, deliberately. Then she 
 took a large bunch of violets from her corsage, and 
 smelled them thoughtfully. 
 
 Fancy began to play with one of her bracelets, 
 clasping and unclasping it. The lock caught in a 
 bangle-chain, and, frowning, she bent to unfasten it. 
 In an instant the lady noticed her dilemma, smiled 
 frankly, and walked over to the desk, drawing off 
 her long glove as she did so. 
 
 "Let me do it for you!" she said, and, taking 
 Fancy s hand, she busied herself with the clasp. 
 
 Fancy watched her amusedly. The lady was so 
 close that she could enjoy the odor of the violets and a 
 fainter, more exquisite perfume that came from the 
 diaphanous embroidered linen blouse, whose cost 
 Fancy might have reckoned in terms of her week s 
 salary. With careful, skilful movements the chain was 
 unfastened, but the lady still held Fancy s hand in 
 her own. 
 
 "Oh, what beautiful hands you have!" she ex 
 claimed. "I never saw anything so lovely in my life ! 
 Let me see them both! I wonder if you know how 
 pretty they are !" 
 
THE PALMIST AND FANCY GRAY 47 
 
 She looked questioningly into Fancy s face and the 
 twinkle in Fancy s eyes answered her. 
 
 "Oh, of course you do! Mr. Granthope must have 
 told you ! He has never seen a prettier pair, I m 
 sure !" She laid them carefully down, palms to the 
 table, and smiled at Fancy. 
 
 "I see you ve got the right idea about hands," said 
 Fancy Gray archly. "That second ringer s pretty 
 good; did you notice it?" 
 
 Both laughed. 
 
 "I hope you don t think I m rude," said the lady. 
 
 "You don t worry me a bit, so long as you can keep 
 it up. I m only afraid you re going to stop ! But it 
 seems to me you ve got a pretty small pair of hands 
 yourself! No wonder you noticed mine!" Fancy 
 gazed at them, as if she were surprised to find any 
 one who could compete with her own specialty. 
 
 For answer, Miss Smith, as she had called herself, 
 drew her violets from her coat, kissed them and handed 
 them to Fancy. Fancy played up; kissed them too, 
 nodded, as if drinking a health, and tucked them 
 safely away on her own breast. Then she treated 
 Miss Smith to the by-play of her delicious dimples, 
 as she said, "Come in as often as you like, especially 
 when you have flowers !" 
 
 "Miss Smith s" face had become wonderfully 
 alive, and she gazed at Fancy so frankly admiring 
 that now Fancy had to drop her own eyes in em 
 barrassment. At this moment Granthope s voice was 
 heard as he came out of his studio with Gay P. 
 Summer. A kind of shyness seemed to envelop the 
 visitor and she drew back, her color mounting, her 
 lids drooping. 
 
48 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I m all ready for you, Miss Smith," said Grant- 
 hope, coming into the room and bowing suavely. 
 "Come in, please." 
 
 Leaving Mr. Summer in conversational dalliance 
 with Fancy Gray, the lady followed the palmist into 
 his studio. As she walked, her graceful, long-limbed 
 tread, with its easy swing, seemed almost leopard-like 
 in its unconscious freedom, her head was carried some 
 what forward, questing, her arms were slightly ex 
 tended tentatively from her side, as if she almost 
 expected to touch something she could not see. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 TUITION AND INTUITION 
 
 It was a large room, unfurnished except for a 
 couch in a recess of the wall and a table with two 
 chairs drawn up under an electric-light bulb which 
 hung from the ceiling. The walls were covered from 
 floor to cornice by an arras of black velvet, falling 
 in full, vertical folds, sequestering the apartment in 
 soft gloom. Over the couch, this drapery was em 
 broidered with the signs of the zodiac in a circle 
 all else was shadowy and mysterious. 
 
 The young woman walked into the place with her 
 leisurely stride her chin a little up-tilted, her eyes 
 curious. In the center of the room she stopped and 
 looked slowly and deliberately about her. The cor 
 ners of her mouth lifted slightly with amusement, 
 evidently at the obvious picturesqueness of the studio. 
 
 Granthope watched her keenly. With his eyes and 
 ears full of Fancy Gray s ardent, dramatic youth, 
 sparkling with the sophistication of the city, slangy, 
 audacious, gay, this girl seemed almost unreal in her 
 delicacy and exquisite virginity, a creature of dreams 
 and faery, the personification of an ideal too fine and 
 fragile for every-day. Her face showed caste in every 
 line. He was a little afraid of her. Her bearing 
 compelled not only respect, but, in a way, reverence 
 a tribute he seldom had felt inclined to pay to the 
 mondaines who visited him. 
 
 His confidence, however, soon asserted itself. He 
 49 
 
50 THE HEART LINE 
 
 had found that all women were alike there were, as 
 in chess, several openings to his game, but, once 
 started, the strategy was simple. 
 
 "Well, how do you like my studio?" 
 
 "It s like dreams I ve had," she said. "I like it. 
 It s so simple." 
 
 "Most people think it too somber." 
 
 "It is somber; but that purple-black is wonderful 
 in the way it takes the light. And it s all so differ 
 ent!" 
 
 "Yes, I flatter myself it is that. But I m different* 
 myself." 
 
 "Are you?" She turned her eyes steadfastly upon 
 him for the first time, as if mentally appraising him, 
 as he stood, six feet of virility, handsome, vivid and 
 nonchalant. The color which had risen to her cheeks 
 still remained. 
 
 "You are, too," he went on, examining her as 
 deliberately. 
 
 She smiled faintly and took a seat by the table and 
 removed her veil. Her face was now clearly il 
 luminated, and Granthope s eyes, traveling from 
 feature to feature in quest of significant details, fell 
 upon her left cheek. His look was arrested at the 
 sight of a brown velvety mole, a veritable beauty- 
 spot, heightening the color of her skin. It was charm 
 ing, making her face piquant and human. His hand 
 went to his forehead thoughtfully. 
 
 At the sight of this mark upon her cheek, something 
 troubled him. His mind, always alert to suggestive 
 influences, registered the faintest impression of a 
 thought at first too elusive to be called an idea. It 
 was like the ultimate, dying ripple from some far-off 
 
TUITION AND INTUITION 51, 
 
 shock to his consciousness. The impact died almost 
 as it reached him a flash, vaguely stimulating to his 
 imagination, and then it was gone, its mysterious 
 message uncomprehended. 
 
 She watched him a little impatiently, seeming to 
 resent his scrutiny. Noticing this, he summoned his 
 distracted attention and seated himself at the table. 
 But, from time to time, now, his glance darted to 
 her cheek surreptitiously, searching for the lost clue. 
 He had learned the value of such subtle intuitions and 
 would not give up his efforts to take advantage of 
 this one. 
 
 She laid her bare hand upon the black velvet 
 cushion beneath the light, saying, "I m sorry that 
 something has disturbed you." She looked at him, 
 and then away. 
 
 "Why, nothing has disturbed me," he said. "Why 
 should you think so?" Even as he pulled himself to 
 gether for this denial her quick perception gave him 
 another cause for wonder. 
 
 "I m rather sensitive to other people s moods some 
 times. That s one reason why I came. I didn t 
 know but you might tell me something about it how 
 far to trust it, perhaps though I came, I confess, 
 more from curiosity." 
 
 Her air was still so detached that her conversational 
 approaches seemed almost experimental. She spoke 
 with pauses between her phrases, while her eyes, now 
 showing full and clear gray, lit upon him only to rove 
 off, returned and departed again, but never rapidly, as 
 if she sought for her words here and there in the 
 room, and brought them calmly back to him. She 
 did not shun a direct gaze, but her look wandered as 
 
52 THE HEART LINE 
 
 her thought wandered in its logical course, for the 
 time seeming to forget his presence. 
 
 He took her hand and felt of it, testing its quality 
 and texture, preparing himself for his speech. Her 
 hand was long and slim, with scarcely a fiber more 
 flesh upon the bones than was necessary to cover 
 them admirably. He had no thought at first except 
 to give his ordinary routine of reading, but his study 
 of her showed her to be an exceptional character. 
 She was beautiful, with the loveliness of an aristocratic 
 and slightly bewildering spiritual type. Her hand in 
 his was magnetic, delicious of contact, subtly alive 
 even though not consciously responsive. Other women 
 with more obvious charm had left him cold. She, 
 aided by no suggestion of coquetry or complaisance, 
 allured him. She awakened in him a desire not wholly 
 physical, although he could not fail to regard her 
 primarily in the sex relation that, so far, had been 
 his chief interest in women. She, as a woman, an 
 swered, in some secret way, him, as a man. This 
 was his first wave of feeling. Her hint amused him, 
 true as her intuition had been; she had stumbled upon 
 his embarrassment, no doubt, and had claimed pre 
 science, a common enough form of feminine conceit. 
 There he had a valuable suggestion as to the direction 
 of her line of least resistance to his wiles. 
 
 Following upon this, as the first feeling of her un 
 reality faded, upon contact, came the thought of her 
 as a wealthy and credulous girl, who might minister to 
 his ambitions. He was without real social aspira 
 tions, except in so far as his success in the fashionable 
 world favored the game he was playing. Years of 
 contact with credulity and hypocrisy had carried him, 
 
TUITION AND INTUITION 53 
 
 mentally, too far to value the lionizing and the hero- 
 worship he had tasted from his smarter clients. But 
 the patronage of such a fair and finished creature as 
 this girl, especially if he could establish a more 
 intimate relation, might secure the permanence of his 
 position and his opportunities. He saw vistas of 
 delight and satisfaction in such an acquaintance. He 
 had had his fill of silly women whose favors were 
 paid for in ministrations to their vanity. Such trib 
 ute, easy as it was for him with his facility, irked him. 
 Here, perhaps, was one who might hold his interest 
 by her fineness and her mentality, and by the very 
 difficulty he might find in impressing her. There 
 would be zest to the pursuit. 
 
 Beneath these waves of feeling, however, and be 
 neath his active intelligence, there was an inchoate 
 disturbance in some subconscious stratum of his mind. 
 He felt it only as the slight mental perplexity the 
 mole upon her cheek had caused; he had no time, 
 now, to pursue that incipient idea. His impression 
 of her as a desirable, pleasurable quarry incited him 
 to devise the psychological method necessary for her 
 capture. He knew to a hair, usually, what he could 
 do with women ; but now he was forced to gain time 
 by a preamble in the conventional patter of the 
 palmist s cult. 
 
 Hes hand, it appeared, was of a mixed type, neither 
 square nor conic, with long fingers, inclined to be 
 psychic. He remarked the extraordinary sensitiveness 
 denoted by their cushioned tips. Nails, healthy and 
 oval; knuckles indicating a good sense of order in 
 mental and physical life. She was, in short, of strong, 
 vigorous mentality, well-balanced, artistic, generous, 
 
54 THE HEART LINE 
 
 liberal; but (he referred to the Mount of Jupiter) 
 with a tendency to be a looker-on rather than a 
 sharer in the ordinary social pleasures of life. 
 Saturn, developed more toward the finger, gave her 
 a slightly melancholy temperament; Apollo showed a 
 great appreciation of the beautiful in nature, with 
 no little critical knowledge of art; Mercury was less 
 developed, and implied a lack of humor; Venus 
 betrayed a well-controlled but warm feeling; it was 
 soft she was, consequently, easily moved. Her 
 thumb was wilful rather than logical, her fingers sug 
 gested respectively, pride, perception, self-respect, mor 
 bidity, love of the beautiful as distinguished from the 
 ornamental, tact. 
 
 He had thrown himself into a pose so habitual as 
 to become almost unconscious, though it was keyed to 
 the theatrical pitch of his picturesque appearance and 
 surroundings. The girl s expression showed, to his 
 alert eye, a slight disappointment at the convention 
 ality of his remarks. This spurred him to more 
 originality and defmiteness. He tossed his hair back 
 with one hand in a quick gesture and turned to 
 the lines in her palm, examining them first with a 
 magnifying glass and then tracing them with an 
 ivory stylus. Her eyes were fixed upon his, as if she 
 were more interested in the manner than the matter 
 of his task. 
 
 "You are the sort of person," he said, "who is, in 
 a certain sense, egoistic. That is, after a criticism of 
 any one, you would immediately ask yourself, Would 
 I not have done the same thing, under the same cir 
 cumstances? You re stupendously frank you d own 
 up to anything, any faults you thought you possessed ; 
 
TUITION AND INTUITION 55 
 
 you d even exaggerate a jestingly ignoble confession 
 of motives because you hate hypocrisy so much in 
 others. You are eminently fair and just, as you are 
 generous. You have none of the ordinary feminine 
 arts of coquetry. If you liked a man you would say 
 s frankly." 
 
 It was typical of Granthope s enthusiasm for his 
 game that he dared thus play it so boldly with his 
 cards face up upon the table. His visitor began to show 
 more interest; it was evident that she appreciated the 
 ingeniousness of his phrasing. Her lip curved into a 
 dainty smile. Her eyes gleamed slyly, then withdrew 
 their fire. 
 
 He continued: "You are slow in action, but when 
 the time comes, you can act swiftly without regard of 
 the consequences. You are not prudish. You are 
 willing to look upon anything that can be regarded as 
 evidence as to the facts of life, even though you may 
 not care to go into things purely for the sake of ex 
 perience. You are faithful and loyal, but you are not 
 of the type that believes the king can do no wrong 
 you see your friends faults and love them in spite 
 of those faults, yet you are absolutely indifferent to 
 most persons who make no special appeal. You are 
 lazy, but physically, not mentally there is no effort 
 you wiH spare yourself to think things out and get 
 to the final solution of a psychological or moral prob 
 lem. You love modernness, complexity of living, the 
 wonderful adjustments that money and culture effect, 
 but not enough to endure the conventionality that 
 sort of life demands. You are not particularly eco 
 nomical you d never go all over your town for a 
 bargain or to pick up antiques you would prefer 
 
56 THE HEART LINE 
 
 to go to a good shop and pay a fair price. You are 
 fond of children not of all children, however, only 
 bright and interesting ones. You are fond of dress 
 in a sensuous sort of way ; that is, you like silk stock 
 ings, because they feel cool and smooth; silk skirts, 
 because they fall gracefully and make a pleasant 
 swish against your heels ; furs, on account of the color 
 and softness, but none of these merely because of 
 their richness or splendor." 
 
 His face was intent, almost scowling, two vertical 
 lines persisting between his brows ; his mouth was 
 fixed. His concentration seemed to hold no personal 
 element; there was nothing to resent in the contact of 
 his fingers or the absorption of his gaze. Suddenly, 
 however, he looked up and smiled he knew how to 
 smile, did Granthope and the relation between them 
 became so personal and intimate that she involuntarily 
 drew away her hand. He was instantly sensitive to 
 this and by his attitude reassured her. Not, however, 
 before she had blushed furiously, in spite of evident 
 efforts to control herself. 
 
 His eyes glanced again at the mole on her cheek. 
 Then, as if electrified by the sudden kindling and 
 intensification of her personality, his subconscious 
 mind finished its work without the aid of reason. 
 As a bubble might separate itself from the bottom of 
 the sea and ascend, quivering, to the surface, his 
 memory unloosed its secret, and it rose, to break in 
 his mind. The mole he had seen it before where? 
 Like a tiny explosion the answer came upon the 
 cheek of the little girl who visited them that day, 
 twenty-three years ago, at Madam Grant s the day 
 she died. It reached him with the certainty of truth. 
 
TUITION AND INTUITION 57 
 
 It did not even occur to him to doubt its verity. 
 In a flash, he saw what sensational use he could make 
 of the intelligence. Another idea followed it an old 
 trick perhaps it would work again. 
 
 "Would you mind taking off that ring?" he asked. 
 
 She drew off a simple gold band set with three 
 turquoises. He laid it upon the cushion, turning it 
 between his fingers as he did so. In a single glance he 
 had read the inscription engraved inside. His ruse 
 was undetected ; her eyes had roved about the room. 
 He turned to her again. 
 
 "You are twenty-seven years old. You have a lover, 
 or, rather, a man is making love to you. I do not 
 advise you to marry him. You have traveled a good 
 deal and will take another journey within a year. 
 Something is happening in connection with a male 
 relative that worries you. It will not be settled for 
 some time. Are there any questions you would like 
 to ask?" 
 
 "I think you have answered them already," she 
 replied. 
 
 He leaned back, to shake his hands and pass them 
 across his forehead, theatrically. Another bubble had 
 broken in his consciousness. "Oliver Payson!" the 
 name came sharply to his inner ear like a voice in a 
 telephone. Oliver Payson he recalled now where he 
 had seen the name upon the newspaper cut pinned 
 to the door of Madam Grant s bedroom. Like two 
 drops of quicksilver combining, this thought fused 
 with that suggested by the mole on the girl s cheek. 
 "Clytie Payson" this name came to him, springing 
 unconjured to his mind. He determined to hazard a 
 test of the inspiration. He smiulated the typical 
 
58 THE HEART LINE 
 
 symptoms of obsession, trembled, shuddered and 
 writhed in the professional manner. Then he said : 
 
 "Would you like a clairvoyant reading? I think I 
 might get something interesting, for I feel your 
 magnetism very strongly." 
 
 She assented with an alacrity she had not shown 
 before. Her eyes opened wider, she threw off her 
 lassitude, awakening to a mild excitement. 
 
 "Let me take your hands again both of them. 
 This is something I don t often do, but I ll see what I 
 can get." 
 
 He shut his eyes and spoke monotonously : 
 
 "I see a name C, 1, y " 
 
 The girl s hands gave an involuntary convulsion. 
 
 " t, i, e. Is that it? Clyde! Wait I get the 
 name " 
 
 Beneath slightly trembling lids, a fine, sharp glance 
 shot out at her and was withdrawn again. It was as 
 if he had stolen something from her. 
 
 "Payson P 
 
 The girl withdrew her hands suddenly; she drew 
 in her breath swiftly, paling a little. 
 
 "That s my name, Clytie Payson! It s wonderful! 
 Go on, please!" 
 
 She gave him her gracilent, dewy hands again, and 
 he thrilled to their provocative spell. He took advan 
 tage of her distraction to enjoy them lightly. When 
 he spoke there was no hesitation in his voice. 
 
 "I don t understand this ! I don t know who these 
 people are, or where they are, and it seems ridiculous 
 to tell it. But there is a fearfully disordered room 
 with the sun coming in through dirty, broken windows. 
 The floor is covered with rubbish, there s no furniture 
 
TUITION AND INTUITION 59 
 
 but a few old boxes. I see two women and a little 
 girl. They are in old-fashioned costumes." 
 
 Clytie s face was pale, now, and she watched him 
 breathlessly. 
 
 "One of the women has white hair and vivid black 
 eyebrows. She talks wildly sometimes; sometimes 
 she s quite calm. The other woman is middle-aged 
 and has a soft voice. The little girl is dressed in 
 blue; she is sitting on a box listening. The crazy 
 woman is kissing her/ 
 
 He shook himself, shuddered and opened his eyes, 
 to find Miss Payson gazing upon him, her hand to 
 her heart. 
 
 "It s strange!" she said. 
 
 "It sounds nonsensical, I suppose," he said, "but 
 that s just what I get. Can you make anything of it?" 
 "It s all true !" said Clytie. "That very thing hap 
 pened to me when I was a little girl so long ago, that 
 I had almost forgotten it." 
 "You remember it, then?" 
 
 "Yes, it all comes back to me though I have 
 wondered vaguely about it often enough. It was when 
 I was four years old and I went with my mother to 
 call on this strange, crazy woman if she were crazy ! 
 I never knew. I never dared speak to father about it. 
 He never knew that we went, I think. I had an 
 idea that he wouldn t have liked it, had he known." 
 "And your mother?" 
 
 "She died the same year, I think. We left San 
 Francisco, father and I, soon after, and we lived 
 abroad for several years. I didn t even remember the 
 scene until long afterward, when something brought 
 it up. Then it was like a dream or a vision." 
 
60 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Do you know, Miss Payson, I feel that you have 
 very strong mediumistic powers ; I can feel your mag 
 netism. 1 think that you might develop yourself so as 
 to be able to use your psychic force." 
 
 She took it seriously. 
 
 "Yes, I think I do have a certain amount of capacity 
 that way. I can never depend upon it, though, but my 
 intuitions are very strong and occasionally rather 
 strange things have happened to me." 
 
 It amused him to see how quickly she had fallen 
 into the trap he had set for her. Experience had 
 taught him it was a common enough assertion for 
 women to make, and he was cynically incredulous. 
 He was a little disappointed, too; as, in his opinion, 
 it discounted her intelligence. Nevertheless, he found 
 in it a way to manipulate her. 
 
 "Perhaps I might help you to develop it," he sug 
 gested, "although I m not much of a clairvoyant 
 myself; I claim only to be a scientific palmist." 
 
 "I think you are wonderful," Clytie asserted, giving 
 him a glance of frank admiration. "This test alone 
 would prove it. You see, having some slight power 
 myself, I m more ready to believe that others have it." 
 
 He waived her compliment with apparent modesty. 
 
 "Women are more apt to be gifted that way it isn t 
 often I attempt a psychic reading. What is written 
 in the palm I can read ; as a physician diagnoses a 
 case from symptoms in the pulse and tongue and 
 temperature, so I read a person s character from 
 what I see in the hand. I have been particularly in 
 terested in yours, Miss Payson, and perhaps I have 
 been able to give you more than usual. I hope I may 
 have the opportunity of seeing you again; I m quite 
 
TUITION AND INTUITION 61 
 
 sure I can help you, or put you in the way of assist 
 ance." 
 
 She arose and slowly drew on her gloves, her mind 
 full of the revelation. He watched every motion with 
 delight. Her brief mood of irradiation had given 
 place to her customary languor, and her fragile love 
 liness, emphasizing the opposite to every one of his 
 virile, ardent traits, allured him with the appeal of 
 one extreme to another. Most of all, her mouth, 
 wayward with its ravishing smile, enchanted him. 
 It was controlled by no coquetry, he knew, and it 
 moved him the more for that reason. Yet she seemed 
 loath to go and moved slowly about the room. She 
 stopped to point with a sweeping gesture at one side 
 of the velvet-hung wall. 
 
 "It s rather too bad to hide the windows, isn t it?" 
 
 He smiled at her divination, doubtful of its origin. 
 
 "You have a very good sense of direction, haven t 
 you?" 
 
 She appeared to notice his incredulity, but not to 
 resent it. 
 
 "Indeed, I have very little," she said; then, giving 
 him her hand with a quick impulse of cordiality, she 
 smiled, nodded and turned to the anteroom. 
 
 He glanced at the table, saw her ring, and made a 
 motion toward it. Then it occurred to him that it 
 might be used as an excuse for seeing her again and 
 he followed her out. 
 
 In the reception-room, Fancy was yawning; seeing 
 them, she brought her hand quickly to her mouth and 
 raised her eyebrows at Granthope. He made no sign 
 in reply. Clytie walked up to her impulsively and 
 held out her hand. 
 
62 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I do hope I ll see you again, sometime," she said. 
 
 Fancy laughed. "I do, too. You re the only one 
 who s ever really appreciated me. You make me 
 almost wish I was a lady." By her tone, there was 
 some old wound that bled. 
 
 "You re that, and better, I m sure," Clytie an 
 swered softly; "you re yourself!" 
 
 She turned to leave. Granthope, who had watched 
 the two women, amused, opened the door for her, re 
 ceived her long, steady glance, her quiet, low "Good 
 morning," and bowed her out. 
 
 As soon as she had fairly left, he turned quickly to 
 Fancy. "Where s Philip?" 
 
 "In the back room, I suppose." Fancy looked 
 surprised. 
 
 "Go and get him, please ; tell him to find out where 
 this girl lives, and all he can about her." 
 
 "Say, Frank " Fancy began, rising. 
 
 "Hurry, please! I don t want him to miss her. 
 She s a good thing!" 
 
 "She s too good, Frank, that s just it!" 
 
 "That s why I want her. I don t catch one like that 
 every day. Why, she s worth all the rest put to 
 gether." He looked impatiently at her. 
 
 Fancy shrugged her shoulders and sailed airily out 
 of the room. 
 
 Granthope stood for some time, his hands thrust into 
 the pockets of his velvet coat, gazing abstractedly at 
 the red wall of his reception-room. Then he took up 
 the telephone and called for Madam Spoil s number. 
 
 He made himself known and then said, "I ll be 
 round to-night before your seance. I want to talk 
 something over." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 THE SPIDER S NEST 
 
 The architecture of San Francisco was, in early 
 days, simple and unpretentious, befitting 1 the modest 
 aspirations of a trading and mining town. Builders 
 accepted their constructive limitations and did their 
 honest best. False fronts, indeed, there were, making 
 one-story houses appear to be two stories high, but 
 redwood made no attempts in those days to mas 
 querade as marble or granite. 
 
 During the sixties, a few French architects im 
 ported a taste for classic art, and for a time, within 
 demure limits, their exotic taste prevailed. The sim 
 ple, flat, front wall of houses, now grown to three 
 honest stories high, they embellished with dentil cor 
 nice, egg-and-dart moldings and chaste consoles ; they 
 added to the second story a little Greek portico with 
 Corinthian columns accurately designed, led up to by a 
 flight of wooden steps; the fagade was broken by a 
 single bay-window, ornamented with conventional 
 severity. Block after block of such dwelling-houses 
 were built. They had a sort of restful regularity, they 
 broke no artistic hearts. 
 
 In later days, when San Francisco had begun to take 
 its place in the world, a greater degree of soph^stica- 
 tion ensued. Capitals of columns became more fanci 
 ful, ornament more grotesquely original, till ambitious 
 turners and wood-carvers gave full play to their 
 morbific imagination. Then was the day of scrolls 
 
 63 
 
64 THE HEART LINE 
 
 and finials, bosses, rosettes, brackets, grille-work 
 and comic balusters. Conical towers became the rage, 
 wild windows, odd porches and decorations nailed on, 
 regardless of design, made San Francisco s nightmare 
 architecture the jest of tourists. Lastly, after an 
 interregnum of Queen Anne vagaries, came the 
 Renaissance and the Age of Stone, heralded by con 
 crete imitations and plaster walls of bogus granite. 
 
 Madam Spoil s house was of that commonplace, 
 anemically classic style which, after all, was then the 
 least offensive type of residence. It was painted ap 
 propriately in lead color for the house, with the rest 
 of the block, seemed to have been cast in a mold a 
 tone which did its best to make Eddy Street prosaic. 
 It had been long abandoned by fashion and was now 
 hardly on speaking terms with respectability. It 
 occupied a place in a row of boarding-houses, cheap 
 millinery establishments and unpretentious domiciles. 
 
 There was a dreary little unkempt yard in front, 
 with a passage leading to an entrance under the front 
 steps ; above, the sign "Madam Spoil, Clairvoyant and 
 Medium," was displayed on ground glass, and below, 
 hanging on a nail against the wall, was a transparency. 
 When the lamp was lighted inside this, one read the 
 words: "Circle To-night. Admittance ten cents." 
 
 This Thursday the lamp was lighted. It was half- 
 past seven o clock. 
 
 Devotees had begun to arrive, and, entering by the 
 lower door, they paid their dimes to Mr. Spoil, who 
 stood beside the little table at the entrance, left their 
 "tests" envelopes, flowers, jewelry or what not and 
 passed into the audience-room. 
 
 This had once been a dining-room and its walls 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 65 
 
 were covered with a figured paper, above which was a 
 bright red border decorated with Japanese fans and 
 parasols. A few gaudy paper lanterns hung from 
 the ceiling, and here and there were hung framed 
 mottoes: "There Is No Death" "We Shall Meet 
 Again" "There Is a Land that is Fairer than 
 Day." This room was filled with chairs set in rows, 
 and would hold some forty or fifty persons. It was 
 separated by an arch from a smaller room beyond, 
 where, upon a platform, stood a table with an open 
 Bible, an organ, two chairs and a folding screen. 
 
 Only the front seats were at present occupied, these 
 by habitues of the place, all firm believers, a pic 
 turesque group showing at a glance the stigmata of 
 eccentricity or mental aberration. For the most part 
 they were women in black ; they bowed to one another 
 as they sat down, then waited in stolid patience for 
 the seance to open. The others were pale, blue-eyed 
 men with drooping mustaches and carefully parted 
 hair, and a whiskered, bald-headed old gentleman or 
 two who sat in silence. The room was dimly illu 
 minated by side lights. 
 
 Farther down the hallway, opposite the foot of a 
 flight of stairs leading upward to her living-rooms, 
 was Madam Spoil s "study," and here she was, this 
 evening, preparing for business. 
 
 This room was small and crowded with furniture. 
 The marble mantel held an assortment of bisque bric- 
 a-brac, sea-shells, paper knives and cheap curiosities. 
 The walls were covered with photographs, a placque 
 or two, fans and picture cards. A huge folding 
 bed, foolishly imitating a mirrored sideboard, occu 
 pied one corner of the room. A couch covered with 
 
56 THE HEART LINE 
 
 fancy cushions and tidies ran beside it. A table, 
 heavily draped, a three-legged tea-stand, an easel with 
 a satin sash bearing the portrait, photographically en 
 larged in crayon, of a bold, smirking, overdressed 
 little girl, a ragged trunk and several plush-covered 
 chairs were huddled, higgledy-piggledy, along the 
 other side of the room. 
 
 Upon the couch Madam Spoil sat, spraying en 
 velopes with alcohol from an atomizer on a small 
 bamboo stand before her. 
 
 She was an enormous woman of masculine type, 
 with short, briskly curling, iron-gray hair and a triple 
 chin. Heavy eyebrows, heavy lips, heavy ears and 
 cheeks had Madam Spoil, but her forehead was unlined 
 with wrinkles ; her expression was serene, and, when 
 she smiled, engaging and conciliating. She was 
 dressed in black satin with wing-like sleeves, the front 
 of her waist being covered with a triangular decoration 
 of bead-work. 
 
 Watching her with roving, black eyes was Pro 
 fessor Vixley, smoking a vile cigar. His face was 
 sallow, of a predatory mold with a pointed, mangy 
 beard, and sharp, yellow teeth. He wore a soft, 
 striped flannel shirt with a flowing pink tie. From 
 the sleeves of his shiny, cutaway coat, faded to a pur 
 plish hue, his thin, tanned, muscular hands showed 
 like the claws of a vulture. 
 
 "You seem to be doin a pretty good business," he 
 remarked, dropping his ashes carelessly upon the floor. 
 
 "So-so," Madam Spoil answered. "If things go 
 well we hope to get a new hall up on Post Street, but 
 there ain t nothing in tests. Straight clairvoyance is 
 the future of this business. Of course, we have to 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 67 
 
 give cheap circles to draw the crowd, but it s a lot 
 of bother and expense and it does tire me all out. 
 Then there s always the trouble from the newspapers 
 likely to come up." 
 
 "Pshaw ! I wouldn t mind gettin into the news 
 papers occasionally, it s good advertisin . The more 
 you re exposed the better you get along, I believe." 
 
 " Lay low and set on your eggs is my motto," said 
 the Madam. "I don t like too much talk. I prefer to 
 work in the dark there s more money in it in the 
 long run. I don t care if I only have a few cus 
 tomers ; if they re good and easy I can make all I 
 want" 
 
 "What do you bother with sealed messages for, 
 Gert?" Professor Vixley asked. 
 
 "Oh, I got to fix a lot of skeptics to-night. I can 
 usually open the ballots right on the table easy 
 enough behind the flowers, but I want to read a few 
 sealed messages besides. It may help along with 
 Payson, too." She took up an envelope numbered 
 "275." It was saturated with alcohol. She held it 
 to the light, and squinting at the transparent paper, 
 she read : " When is Susie coming home ? Now, 
 ain t that a fool question? I ll take a rise out of her, 
 see if I don t! That s that woman who got into 
 trouble in that poisoning case." 
 
 "Say, the alcohol trick s a pretty good stunt when 
 you get a chance to use it ! But I don t have time for 
 it in my business." 
 
 "Yes, it s easy enough if you use good, grain 
 alcohol, but I wish I had an egg-tester. They save 
 a lot of time, and you can read through four or 
 five thicknesses of paper with em. Spoil, he has plenty 
 
68 THE HEART LINE 
 
 of chance to hold out the ballots and bring em in to 
 me ; his coming and going ain t noticed, because he 
 has to fetch em up to the table, anyway. By the time 
 I go on, all the smell s faded out. If it ain t, my hand 
 kerchief is so full of perfumery that you can t notice 
 anything else. I m going to fit up my table with one 
 o them glass plates with an electric flash-light under 
 neath that I can turn on with a switch. You can read 
 right through the envelope then. But I don t often 
 consent to tests like that. It deteriorates your powers. 
 And my regular customers are usually contented to 
 send their ballots up open and glad of the chance to 
 get an answer. They don t want to give the spirits 
 no trouble ! Lord, I wish I had the power I had when 
 I begun." She smiled pleasantly at her companion. 
 
 "I see old Mrs. Purinton on the front row as I 
 come in," Vixley observed, shifting his cigar labially 
 from one corner of his mouth to the other. 
 
 "Say, there s a grafter for fair!" she exclaimed. 
 "She s been coming here to the publics for two years 
 and never once has she gave me a private setting. 
 That s what I call close. She s as near as matches! 
 And always the same old song little Willie s croup or 
 when s Henry going to write, and woozly rubbish 
 like that. I got a good mind to hand her a dig. 
 I could make a laughing-stock out of her, and scare 
 her away easy. Folks do like a laugh at a public 
 seance; you know that, Professor." 
 
 "Sure! It don t do no harm as long as you hit 
 the right one." 
 
 "Oh, I ain t out for nothing but paper-sports and 
 grafters. I know a good thing when I see it. I 
 hope there ll be something doing worth while in this 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 69 
 
 Payson business. He may show up to-night. Lulu 
 claims she conned him good." 
 
 "I hope I ll have a slice off him," said Professor 
 Vixley, his beady, black eyes shining. "We got to get 
 up a new game for him before we pass him down the 
 line." 
 
 "Oh, if anybody can I guess we can ; there s more n 
 one way to kill a cat, besides a-kissing of it to death." 
 
 "Yes, smotherin it in hot air, for instance !" Vixley 
 grinned. 
 
 "They s one thing I wish," said Madam Spoil, "and 
 that is that we had a regular blue-book like they have 
 in the East. Why, they tell me there s six thousand 
 names printed for Boston alone. If we had some way 
 of getting a lead with this Payson it would be lots 
 easier. But I expect the San Francisco mediums will 
 get better organized some day and cooperate more 
 shipshape." 
 
 Here Mr. Spoil entered, a tall, thin, bony, wild-eyed 
 individual with a rolling pompadour of red hair, his 
 face spattered with freckles. He walked on tiptoe, as 
 if at a funeral, bowed to the Professor, coughed into 
 his hand, and took up the letters Madam Spoil had 
 been investigating, putting down some new ones. 
 
 "Oh, here s that S. F. B. that Ringa told me about," 
 she said, glancing at an envelope. "Is Ringa come 
 in yet?" 
 
 "I ain t seen him ; but it s early," said Spoil. "He ll 
 show up all right. I ll send him right in." 
 
 "Is Mr. Perry in front?" 
 
 "You bet!" Spoil was still tiptoeing about the room 
 on some mysterious errand. "Perry ain t likely to 
 lose a chance to make a dollar, not him !" 
 
70 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "He s a good one!" Madam Spoil smiled at the 
 Professor. "I don t hardly know what I d do without 
 him. I can always depend upon him to make good. 
 He ain t too willing, and sometimes, I declare, he 
 almost fools me, even. I ve known him to stand up 
 and denounce me something fierce, especially when 
 there was newspaper men in the audience, and then 
 just gradually calm down and admit everything I 
 wanted him to. He looks the part, too. Why, I 
 sent him round to Mrs. Stepson s circle one night, 
 when she first come to town, and she was fooled good. 
 I ve seen him cry at a materializing seance so hard 
 it would almost break your heart." 
 
 "Does he play spook?" 
 
 "No, he s best in the audience. He s a good capper, 
 but I don t believe he could play spook besides, he s 
 getting too fleshy." 
 
 "Who else have you got regular?" asked Professor 
 Vixley. 
 
 "Only two or three. I don t need so many touts as 
 most. I pride myself on doing my own work without 
 much help. Of course, you got to give a name some 
 times when a fishing test won t work, and a friend in 
 the audience helps. Miss French, she s pretty good, 
 but she s tricky. I m afraid of her. I was gave away 
 once to the Chronicle and I lost a whole lot of business. 
 Men are safer. Harry Debert is straight enough, but 
 he s stupid. He s the too-willing kind, and you don t 
 have a chance to get any effect. 
 
 "Say, Spoil," she added to her husband, "be sure 
 and don t take no combs nor gloves ! I ain t going to 
 do no diagnosing in public not for ten cents. Them 
 that want it can pay for it and take a private setting." 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 71 
 
 "They re mostly flowers to-night," said Spoil as he 
 crept out of the room. 
 
 "Lord, I do hate a flower test!" she groaned. "It s 
 too hard work. Of course, they re apt to bring roses 
 if their name s Rose, or lilies and daisies the same way, 
 but you can t never be sure, and you have to fish. 
 Lockets is what I like, lockets and ballots." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Ringa entered. He was a 
 bleached, tow-headed youth, long and lanky, with 
 mild gray eyes and a stubbly, straw-colored mustache. 
 Two front teeth were missing from his upper jaw. 
 His clothes seemed to have shrunk and tightened upon 
 his frame. He bowed respectfully to Madam Spoil 
 and Professor Vixley, who represented to him the 
 top of the profession. 
 
 "Did you get that S. F. B/ letter, all right?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, what about it?" 
 
 "She s easy!" 
 
 Vixley grinned. "If she s easy for you she must 
 be a cinch for us!" 
 
 Ringa persevered. "Well, I got the dope, anyway. 
 She s a Mrs. Brindon and she s worried about her 
 husband he s gone dotty on some fluzie up North. 
 I read her hand last week. I told her they was 
 trouble coming to her along of a dark woman she s 
 one of these beer-haired blondes what I call a Wiirz- 
 burger blonde then I showed it to her in the heart- 
 streak. Go ahead and tell me how it will come out, 
 she says. I says: There s a peculiar condition in 
 your hand that I ain t quite on to/ I says. She says : 
 * Why, can t you read it ? Says I : Madam, if I could 
 read that well, I wouldn t be doing palms for no two 
 
72 THE HEART LINE 
 
 bits a shot ; I d be where Granthope is, with a fly-away 
 studio and crowding it at five plunks,, per/ Then I 
 says: Say, I hear Madam Spoil has great gifts in 
 predicting at all affairs of the heart. I ain t never 
 been to any of her circles, but why don t you shoot 
 around next Thursday night and try her out? 
 What ll I do? she says. Then I told her to write 
 on a paper, Does he care more for Mae Phillips than 
 he does for me, and how will it come out? She done 
 it and sealed it up into an envelope I give her." 
 
 "Good work !" said Madam Spoil. "I ll give you a 
 rake-off if I land her. I ve got her ballot right here. 
 I won t need to open it." 
 
 "Ain t that job worth a dollar to you as it stands?" 
 Ringa asked nervously. "I ll call it square and take 
 my chances OB the percentage." 
 
 "All right. It s a good sporting chance! Only I 
 wish it was a man. Women are too close." Madam 
 Spoil opened her purse and paid him. 
 
 As Ringa left, Vixley asked: "By the way, how 
 about this fellow Payson? Do you think Lulu roped 
 him?" 
 
 "I guess so. Lulu s done pretty well lately, and 
 she s brought me considerable business. She ought 
 to be here by this time." 
 
 "I should think she d be able to handle him alone." 
 
 "Don t you go and tell her so! The thing for her 
 to do is to get a manager, but I don t intend to queer 
 my own game." 
 
 "What line is she workin now? She s failed at 
 about everything ever since she begun with cards." 
 
 "Oh, she s doing the Egyptian egg reading. 
 Wouldn t that freeze you? Lord, that was out of 
 
I told her they was trouble coming to her Page J 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 73 
 
 date twenty years go; but everything goes in San 
 Francisco." 
 
 "Say, ain t this town the penultimate limit!" Vixley 
 ejaculated, grinning. "Why, the dopes will stand in 
 line all night for a chance to be trimmed, and send 
 their money by express, prepaid, if you let em. 
 Gert, sometimes I m ashamed of myself for keepin 
 em waitin so long! Talk about takin a gumdrop 
 away from a sick baby; that s hard labor to what 
 we did for Bennett. What I want to know is, how do 
 these damn fools ever get all the money we take away 
 from em? It don t look like they had sense enough 
 to cash a check." 
 
 "If I had one or two more decoys as good as Ringa 
 and Lulu Ellis, I d be fixed all right. I could stake 
 out all the dopes in town. Say, Granthope could cut 
 up a lot of easy cash if he d agree to stand in. I tried 
 to tap him about this here Payson, and he wouldn t 
 give me a tip." 
 
 "Perhaps he didn t know anything. You can t 
 loosen up when you re wide open, can you?" 
 
 "He generally knows all there is to know. The 
 trouble is he s getting too high-toned. Since he fitted 
 up his new studio and butted into society you can t 
 get near him with nothing like a business proposition. 
 I believe he thinks he s too good for this place and 
 will go East. He s a nice boy, though. I ain t got 
 nothing against him, only I wish he d help us out. 
 Hello, here s Lulu. Good evening, Lulu, how s Egyp 
 tian eggs to-day?" 
 
 Lulu Ellis was a dumpy, roly-poly, soft-eyed, soft- 
 haired, pink-cheeked young woman, as innocent ap 
 pearing a person as ever lived on her wits. Not that 
 
74 THE HEART LINE 
 
 she had many of them, but a limited sagacity is 
 enough to dupe victims as willing to be cajoled as those 
 who appeal to the Egyptian egg for a sign of the 
 future. Lulu s large, brown eyes were enough to 
 distract one s attention from her rule-of-thumb meth 
 ods. Her fat little hand was soft and white, her 
 plump little body full of extravagant curves. 
 
 "Say, Mr. Payson has come!" she exclaimed im 
 mediately, with considerable excitement. "He s on 
 the third row at the far end." 
 
 Madam Spoil became alert. "Did you see his test?" 
 
 "No, he was here when I come," Lulu replied. 
 
 "Go out and get Spoil." Madam Spoil spoke 
 sharply. "We ve got to fix this thing up right now." 
 
 Lulu returned to say : "There s such a crowd coming 
 in he can t leave, but he says it was a gold watch with 
 a seal fob." 
 
 "All right, so far," said the Madam. "Now, Lulu, 
 are you sure of what you told me ?" 
 
 Lulu s reply was interrupted by the entrance of 
 Francis Granthope, in opera hat and Inverness cape, 
 making a vivid contrast to the disreputable aspect of 
 Professor Vixley. He greeted the three conspirators 
 with his customary elegance. 
 
 "I m sorry I had nothing about Payson when you 
 rang me up, Madam Spoil, but just afterward his 
 daughter came in for a reading. Queer, wasn t it?" 
 
 "God, that s a stroke of luck !" said Vixley eagerly. 
 "I say, Frank, you can work her while we handle the 
 old man, and we ll clean up a fortune. They say 
 he s a millionaire." Vixley s little eyes gleamed. 
 
 "Let s hear what Lulu has to say, first," said Madam 
 Spoil. 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 75 
 
 "Why, I didn t get much," Lulu confessed. "He 
 said he dropped in by accident as he was passing by, 
 to see what Egyptian egg astrology was. I got his 
 name off of some letters he had in his overcoat pocket. 
 I made him hang it on the hall hat-rack. I did all 
 I could for him " 
 
 "Did he get gay with you ?" Professor Vixley inter 
 rupted. He had been overtly enjoying Lulu s plump 
 charms with his rapacious eyes. 
 
 Granthope smiled; Lulu Ellis colored slightly. 
 
 "No, he didn t! I don t do none of that kind of 
 work !" 
 
 "The more fool you !" Madam Spoil retorted. "He s 
 an old man, ain t he?" 
 
 "Sixty," said Vixley, "I looked him up." 
 
 "Then he ought to be easy as chewing gum," said 
 Madam Spoil. 
 
 Granthope lighted a cigarette and listened with a 
 mildly cynical expression. 
 
 "He ain t that kind, though," Lulu insisted. "I 
 ain t altogether a fool, after all. Why, he don t even 
 go to church !" 
 
 Her three auditors laughed aloud, the Professor 
 raucously, Madam Spoil with a bubbling chuckle, 
 Granthope with scarcely more than an audible smile. 
 
 "That settles it, then. You re coming on, Lulu! 
 iWhat else do you know?" said Madam Spoil. 
 
 "Well, he has a daughter " 
 
 "Yes, Granthope knows all about that," from the 
 Madam. 
 
 "Her name is Clytie," said Granthope. "Twenty- 
 seven." 
 
 "Is she a looker?" asked Vixley. 
 
76 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Granthope turned to him and gave him a patronizing 
 glance. "You wouldn t think so, Professor. She s 
 hardly your style. But she s good enough for me!" 
 He languidly flipped the ash from his cigarette and 
 took his pose again. 
 
 Lulu went on: "I think he had a love affair before 
 he was married, but I couldn t quite get it. I didn t 
 dare to fish very much. And that s about all I got." 
 
 "That s plenty, Lulu. You can go now. Here s a 
 dollar for you and much obliged for passing him up." 
 
 "Oh, thank you," said Lulu. "I m afraid it ain t 
 worth that much. He gave me a dollar himself, 
 though I don t charge but four bits, usually." 
 
 "Lord, what a fool!" said Vixley, watching her 
 go out. "That girl won t ever get nowhere, she s too 
 innocent. She knows no more about real life than a 
 boiled egg." 
 
 "She s all right for me, though," Madam Spoil 
 replied. "That s just the kind I need in my business. 
 She fools em every time. They ain t nothing like a 
 good blusher for a stool-pigeon, you take my v/ord 
 for it. Lulu s all right in her place." She turned to 
 wash her hands at a bowl in the corner. 
 
 "Well," said Vixley, crossing his legs, "are you 
 coming in with us, Frank?" 
 
 "It looks pretty good to me, so far. But it depends. 
 What have you got about Payson, anyway?" Grant- 
 hope s tone was languid. 
 
 Madam Spoil winked at Vixley, as she wiped her 
 hands behind the palmist s back. 
 
 "Why," Vixley replied, "Payson s in wool and is 
 director of a bank, besides. He s a square-head with 
 a high forehead, and them are easy. Gertie, here, 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 77 
 
 can get him into a private sittin , and when she does, 
 you leave him to her she ll find a way all right. She 
 don t do no lumpy work, Gertie don t, you know that, 
 all right! When she passes him along to me, I ll 
 manage him like the way we worked Bennett with 
 the real estate. I d like another chance as good as 
 him." 
 
 "You just wait," said Madam Spoil. "I got a 
 hunch that this Payson is going to be pretty good pie ; 
 and we got a good strong combination, Frank, if you 
 want to do your share." 
 
 "It s a pity Spoil ain t got some of Gertie s gump 
 tion," said Vixley, smiling with approval at his partner. 
 
 "Don t you make no mistake about Spoil he s done 
 some good work on Payson already." The Madam 
 was adjusting her waist before the glass and co 
 quetting with her hair. "The trouble with you, Vix 
 ley, is that you ain t got no executive ability I m 
 going to organize this game myself. I can see a way 
 to use Spoil and Ringa, and Flora, too. We want to 
 go into this thing big. Payson s a keener bird than 
 Bennett was, but they s more in him." 
 
 "So Spoil has begun, has he?" Granthope asked. 
 
 "Yes. He located the Paysons over on North 
 Beach." 
 
 "I know that much already. The mother s dead. 
 Mr. and Miss Payson have traveled abroad. What 
 else do you know about her?" 
 
 "Why, it seems she s the sole heir. Good news 
 for you, eh? High society, too Flower Mission, 
 Kitchen Garden, Friday Cotillions, Burlingame, every 
 thing. She could help you, Frank, if you got on the 
 right side of her." 
 
78 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Here Mr. Spoil tiptoed in, bowed to Granthope, 
 and said : 
 
 "Eight o clock, Gertie." 
 
 Madam Spoil arose cumbrously, took a last peep in 
 the mirror of the folding bed and turned into the hall, 
 saying, "You take my advice, Frank. We depend 
 upon you. See what you can do with the girl." She 
 paused to bend a keen glance upon him. "What did 
 you do with her, anyway?" 
 
 "Why, I did happen on something/ he answered. 
 "Do you remember Madam Grant, who used to live 
 down on Fifth Street, twenty-odd years ago?" 
 
 Madam Spoil came back into the room eagerly. 
 
 "The crazy woman who lived so queer and yet 
 had lots of money? Yes! She did clairvoyance, 
 didn t she? I remember. She had a kid with her, 
 too. Let s see he ran away with the money, didn t he? 
 And nobody ever knew what become of him. What 
 about her?" 
 
 There was a duel of astute glances between them. 
 Granthope had his own reasons for not wanting to say 
 too much. He guarded his secret carefully, as he 
 had guarded it from her for years. 
 
 "Miss Payson used to go down to see Madam Grant 
 with her mother, when she was a little girl." 
 
 "No! did she, though? With her mother? That s 
 queer! Hold on, Vixley. What did Lulu say about 
 a love affair before Payson was married? Do you 
 get that? Here s his wife visiting Madam Grant; 
 you remember her, don t you? There s something in 
 thai I believe we got a good starter already." 
 
 Spoil appeared again, anxiously beckoning, and she 
 went with him down the hall. 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 79 
 
 Vixley took up the scent. "Say, Frank/ he asked, 
 "how did you happen to get on to that, anyway? 
 That was slick work." 
 
 Granthope turned to him and replied patronizingly, 
 "Oh, I ought to know something about women by this 
 time. I got her to talking." 
 
 Vixley frowned, intent in thought, stroking his 
 scant, pointed beard and biting his mustache; then 
 he slapped his knee with his claw-like hand. "Say, 
 you got a grand chance there," he exclaimed. "See 
 here, you can get in with the swells and be in a 
 position to help out lots. It s the chance of a lifetime, 
 and we ll make it worth your while." 
 
 "How?" Granthope inquired contemptuously. 
 
 "By a fair exchange of information. You put us 
 wise, and we ll put you wise. I ll trust you to find 
 ways of using what help we give you." He cackled. 
 
 "Yes you can trust me. I think I might have some 
 fun out of it. I don t mind helping you out, but 
 all I need myself is a little imagination, some common- 
 sense and a frock coat." 
 
 Vixley looked at him admiringly. "I wish t I had 
 your chance, Frank ; that s what I do. Say, you just 
 light em and throw em away, don t you! I s pose 
 if I had your looks I could do it myself." 
 
 Granthope looked him over calmly. "There s no 
 knowing what a bath and a manicure and a suit of 
 clothes would do for you, Professor." 
 
 "You can t make brains out o soap," retorted the 
 medium. 
 
 "And you can t make money out of dirt." 
 
 "We ll see who has the money six months from 
 
So THE HEART LINE 
 
 "It s a fair enough bargain. I take the girl, you 
 take the money. I m satisfied." Granthope arose and 
 yawned. "Oh," he added, "did you know Payson 
 had a partner named Riley? He was drowned in 
 seventy-seven." 
 
 "That s funny. Queer how things come our way! 
 Mrs. Riley is here in the front room with a test. She 
 was tried for the murder of one of her husbands. 
 Gert s goin to shoot her up with it to-night. You 
 better go in and see the fun. She ll give it to her 
 good." 
 
 "I think I will," said the palmist. 
 
 He left Vixley plunged in thought, and walked out. 
 
 Turning into the audience-room he sat down on a 
 chair in the rear. The place was almost filled. His 
 eyes scanned the assembly carefully, roving from one 
 spectator to another. On a side seat near him, a party 
 of four, young girls and men, sat giggling and chew 
 ing gum. The rest of the company showed a placid 
 vacancy of expression or lukewarm expectancy. 
 
 Madam Spoil at the organ and her husband with 
 his violin, had, meanwhile, been playing a dreary 
 piece of music, "to induce the proper conditions," as 
 she had announced from the platform. They stopped, 
 retarding a minor chord, and the medium went to the 
 table and began to handle the tests, rearranging them, 
 putting some aside, bringing others forward, in an 
 abstracted manner. Then, looking up with a self- 
 satisfied smile, she spoke: 
 
 "I want to say something to the new-comers and 
 skeptics here to-night in explanation of these tests. 
 Them who have thoroughly investigated the subject 
 and are familiar with every phase of mediumship, 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 81 
 
 understand, of course, that these objects are placed 
 here merely to attract magnetism to the sitter and in 
 duce the proper conditions, so that your spirit friends 
 will be able to communicate with you. This phase of 
 mediumship is called psychometry, but if I d stop to 
 explain just what that means, I wouldn t have time to 
 give any readings. Now, it won t be possible to get 
 any messages unless you come here in the proper 
 mood to receive them. You must send out your best 
 thought and do all you can to assist, or else my 
 guides won t be able to establish communication on the 
 spirit plane. If you merely come here only to laugh 
 and to make a scoff of the proceedings, I ll have to 
 ask you to leave before I begin, for they s many here 
 to-night who are honestly in search of the truth, 
 seeking to communicate with the dear, loved ones be 
 yond on the other side," 
 
 She passed her hand across her eyes, sighed, and 
 fingered her chin nervously. She poked the articles 
 on the table again. 
 
 "As I come on to this platform, I see an old man 
 over there, in that direction, what you might call a 
 middle-aged man, perhaps, of a medium height, and 
 whiskers, like. I feel a condition of going on a 
 journey, you might say, somewhere east of here, 
 though maybe not very far, and I get the name John. 
 The light goes over in your direction, lady, that one 
 with the red hat. Yes, you. Would that be your 
 father, possibly?" 
 
 The lady, straightening herself upon being thus 
 addressed, said timidly, "I think perhaps you mean my 
 uncle. His name was John." 
 
 "Maybe it is an uncle, though I get the influence 
 
82 THE HEART LINE 
 
 of a father very strong, too. Has your father passed 
 out ?" 
 
 The lady in the red hat nodded. 
 
 "Then it is your father, do you see ? Yes, I get an 
 uncle, too, who wishes to communicate, only his in 
 fluence ain t strong enough. That shows it ain t mind 
 reading, as the newspaper folks say, don t it?" She 
 smiled, as if she had made a point, and the audience 
 appeared to be impressed. 
 
 "About this journey, now: maybe you ain t had no 
 idea of traveling, but John says you will. I don t 
 think it s liable to be very far, though. It ll be before 
 the last of September or the first of October and John 
 says it ll be successful. Do you understand what I 
 mean?" 
 
 The lady, frightened at the terrible import of this 
 question, did not speak. 
 
 "Did you send up an article?" 
 
 "It s that purse with the chain." 
 
 Madam Spoil fingered it and weighed it reflectively. 
 
 "I get a condition of what you might call inharmony. 
 Seems to me like in your home something is worrying 
 you and you ain t satisfied, you understand, with 
 the way things are going and sometimes you feel as if, 
 well, you just couldn t stand it!" Her smile, now, 
 bathed her dupe with sympathy. 
 
 The lady nodded vigorously, with tightly shut lips. 
 
 "You kind of wonder if it does any good for you 
 to go to all the trouble you do to sacrifice yourself and 
 try to do your duty, when it ain t what you might call 
 appreciated. And you re worried about money, too. 
 Ain t that so?" 
 
 She received a ready assent. The woman s eyes 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 83 
 
 were fixed upon her. Every one in the room watched 
 the stripping naked of a soul. 
 
 "Well, John says that your father and him are help 
 ing you all they can on the spirit plane, and he thinks 
 conditions will be more favorable and will take a 
 turn for the better by the first of the year." 
 
 A question fluttered on the woman s lips, but before 
 it had time to escape, Madam Spoil suddenly turned 
 in the other direction. 
 
 "While I was talking to that lady," she said, "I felt 
 an influence leading me to that corner over there by 
 the clock, and I get the initials S. F. B. Is there 
 anybody of that name over there?" 
 
 A flashily dressed woman, with tinted yellow hair 
 and rhinestone ear-rings, raised her hand. 
 
 "Those are my initials," she announced. 
 
 Madam Spoil grew impressive. "Your name is 
 Brindon, ain t it?" 
 
 The woman gasped out a "Yes." 
 
 "Did I ever see you before?" 
 
 "No," said the blonde, "not to my knowledge, you 
 didn t." 
 
 Madam Spoil made a comprehensive gesture with 
 both hands, calling attention to the miracle. "You 
 sent up a sealed ballot, didn t you ?" 
 
 The woman nodded. She was obviously excited, 
 looking as if she feared her skeleton was to be 
 dragged forth from its closet; as indeed it was. 
 
 Madam Spoil took up the envelope with her delicate 
 thumb and forefinger and displayed it to the audience. 
 
 "You see, it s still sealed," she announced, then, 
 shutting her eyes, she continued: "My guides tell 
 me that he s what you might call infatuated, but he ll 
 
84 THE HEART LINE 
 
 come back to you and say he s sorry. Do you under 
 stand that?" 
 
 The woman was now painfully embarrassed and 
 shrank into her seat. The medium, however, did not 
 spare her. It was too good a chance for a dramatic 
 sensation. She tore the envelope open and read its 
 contents boldly: "Does he care more for Mae Phillips 
 than he does for me ?" It was a psychological moment. 
 The old women stared at Mrs. Brindon with morbid 
 delight. There was a little buzzing of whispers 
 through the room. Then the audience prepared itself 
 for the next sensation. 
 
 The medium picked up another envelope. "This is 
 marked 275, " she said, then she clutched her throat. 
 "Oh," she cried, "I m strangling! They s somebody 
 here who passed out very sudden, like they was 
 poisoned. It s terrible. I can t answer the question 
 the party has written because there s an evil influence 
 here, a wicked woman. She had three husbands and 
 two of em died suspicious. Her name is Riley. 
 Would that be you?" She pointed forcefully at a 
 dried-up, old woman in a shawl, with bleared eyes and 
 a veined nose. 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 "Was this question something about your daughter?" 
 Madam Spoil asked. 
 
 The woman coughed and bowed, shrinking into 
 herself. 
 
 "I guess you better go somewhere else for your 
 readings," Madam Spoil declared cruelly. "Your aura 
 don t seem to me to be very harmonious. I don t 
 know what s the matter to-night," she went on, pass 
 ing her hand across her forehead in apparent distress. 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 85 
 
 "The conditions around me are something horrid." 
 Her voice rose. "There s somebody in this very room 
 here who has committed murder. I can t do a thing 
 until I get that off my mind. My guides tell me who 
 it is, and that they ll be satisfied if he ll acknowledge 
 it and say he s sorry. Otherwise, this seance can t 
 go on." 
 
 She stopped and glared about the hall. By this 
 time she had worked her audience up to an intense 
 excitement. Every one looked at his neighbor, won 
 dering what was to come, but no one offered to 
 confess to a crime. Madam Spoil raged up and down 
 the platform in a frenzy. Then she stopped like an 
 elephant at bay. 
 
 "I know who this person is. It s a man, and if he 
 don t rise and acknowledge it, I shall point him out !" 
 
 No one stirred. On the fourth seat, a clean-shaven 
 man of thirty-five, with sharp, aquiline features and 
 wide-spread ears, sat, transfixed with horror, his 
 two hands clenched. It was Mr. Perry, the cleverest 
 actor in the medium s support. 
 
 She advanced toward him as if drawn by a secret 
 power, stared into his eyes, and putting her hand upon 
 his shoulder, said: 
 
 "Thou art the man !" 
 
 Mr. Perry wriggled out of her grasp. "See here," 
 he cried, "you mind your own business, will you? 
 You re a fake! You got no right to make a fool of 
 me." His voice trembled, his face was a convincing 
 mask of guilt arraigned. 
 
 The medium shook a warning finger at him. "You 
 either acknowledge what I say is true, or you leave 
 the hall! I can t go on with you here." 
 
86 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Mr. Spoil came in to stand beside her valiantly; 
 spectators stood up to watch the drama. Mr. Perry s 
 eyes were wild, his face distorted; suddenly he arose 
 and rushed out of the room. Madam Spoil snapped 
 her fingers two or three times, shook herself and 
 went back to the platform. The murmurs died down 
 and the seance was resumed. 
 
 Madam Spoil waited a while in silence, then she 
 picked up a gold watch with a seal fob from the table. 
 "I m glad to feel a more peaceful influence," she said. 
 "I m directed toward this watch. I don t know who 
 brought it up, for I was out of the room at the time, 
 but I get the name Oliver. She looked up ex 
 pectantly. 
 
 A gentleman arose from an end seat in the third 
 row. He had a high domed head, partly bald, and a 
 gray chin-beard with a shaven upper lip ; under shaggy 
 overhanging eyebrows, cold gray eyes looked through 
 a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. His air was benev 
 olently judicial and bespoke culture and ease. He 
 had, moreover, a well-marked presence, as of one 
 used to being considered influential and prominent. 
 A row of false teeth glittered when he opened his 
 mouth. 
 
 "That s my name," he acknowledged in a deep, 
 fluent voice that was heard all over the room, "and 
 that is my watch." 
 
 Madam Spoil fixed him in the eye. "I d like to 
 know if I can t get your other name. My guides are 
 very strong to-night" After a few moments of 
 self-absorption, she smiled sweetly upon him. "I 
 think I can get it clairaudiently. Would it be Pear 
 son?" 
 
THE SPIDER S NEST 8; 
 
 "No, but that s pretty near it, though." 
 
 "It sounds like Pearson to me, Pearson. Pay son, 
 oh, yes, it s Payson, isn t it?" 
 
 "That s right," he said, and sat down. 
 
 "Did I ever see you before?" 
 
 "Not to my knowledge, Madam." 
 
 She looked triumphantly at her audience and smiled. 
 
 "If they s any skeptics here to-night, I hope they ll 
 go away satisfied." A number of old ladies nodded 
 emphatically. "Of course, newspaper men never come 
 on a night like this, when my guides are strong. 
 Funny what you see when you ain t got a gun, ain t 
 it? The next time I m half sick and tired out, they ll 
 be plenty of them here to say I m a fake, like our 
 friend here who left so sudden, white as a sheet. 
 Now, when I was directed to that watch, I was con 
 scious of a spirit standing beside this gentleman," she 
 pointed at him benevolently, "influencing me to take 
 it up. It s a woman, and she must have been about 
 thirty when she passed out, and remarkably handsome, 
 too. She was sort of fair-complected, between dark 
 and light. I get a feeling here in my throat and down 
 here," she touched her breast, lightly, curving her arm 
 gracefully inward, "as if she went out sudden, like, 
 with heart disease. Do you know what I mean?" 
 
 Mr. Payson had bent forward now. "Yes," he 
 said, "I think I do. Has she any message for me?" 
 
 "Yes, she has; but well, you see, it ain t one I d 
 exactly care to give in public, and I don t think you d 
 want me to, either. If you come up after the 
 seance is over, I ll see if I can get it for you. Or 
 you might do still better to have a private setting and 
 then I ll have time to tell you more. She brings 
 
88 THE HEART LINE 
 
 me a condition of what you might call worry of 
 anxiety, as if you had something on your mind." 
 
 She turned to a bunch of flowers, and, taking them 
 up, smelled them thoughtfully, for a while. Mr. Pay- 
 son settled back in his seat. 
 
 As the medium commenced again, Granthope arose 
 with his faint, cynical smile and walked quietly out. 
 He found Mr. Spoil at the table by the door. 
 
 "Well, I guess he s on the hook." The palmist but 
 toned his cape and lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "Trust Gertie for that," said Spoil ; "she ll land him 
 all right, see if she don t. Good night !" 
 
 Granthope turned up his collar and walked out into 
 the street. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE PAYSONS 
 
 Mr. Oliver Payson lived on a half-deserted street 
 on the northerly slope of Russian Hill, in a quarter 
 of the town which, at one time, promised to become a 
 favored, if not an aristocratic residential district. 
 But the whim of fashion had fancied in succession 
 Stockton Street, Rincon Hill, Van Ness Avenue, Nob 
 Hill, and had now settled upon the Western Addition 
 and the Presidio Heights. The old North Beach, with 
 its wonderful water and mountain view, nearer the 
 harbor and nearer the business part of the city, had 
 long been neglected. The few old families, who in 
 early days settled on this site, still remained; and, 
 with the opening of new cable-car lines, found them 
 selves, not only within a short distance of down-town, 
 but at the same time almost as isolated as if they 
 had dwelt in the country, for this part of the city is 
 upon none of the main routes few frequent the 
 locality except upon some special errand. 
 
 One side of the street was still unbuilt upon; on 
 the southern side stood three houses, each upon its 
 fifty-vara lot, comfortably filling the short block. That 
 occupied by the Paysons was an old frame structure 
 of two stories, without attempt at ornamentation, ex 
 cept for its quaint, Tudoresque pointed windows and 
 a machicolated wooden battlement round the flat roof. 
 It stood on a gentle slope, surrounded by an old- 
 fashioned garden, which was hedged in, on either side, 
 
90 THE HEART LINE 
 
 by rows of cypress and eucalyptus trees, protecting it 
 from the trade winds, which here blow unhampered 
 across the water. 
 
 In front, a scene ever-changing in color as the at 
 mospheric conditions changed, was ranged in a semi 
 circular pageant, the wild panorama of San Francisco 
 Bay, from Point Bonita and Golden Gate in the west, 
 past the Marin County shore with Sausalito twinkling 
 under the long, beautiful profile of Mount Tamalpais, 
 past Belvedere with its white villas, Alcatraz and 
 Goat Island floating in the harbor, to the foot-hills 
 behind Oakland and Berkeley, where, in the east, 
 Mount Diablo s pointed peak shimmered in the blue 
 distance. 
 
 In the second story of this house Clytie had a 
 bookbinding room, where she spent most of her spare 
 time. It was large, bare, sunny, impregnated with 
 the odor of leather skins, clean and orderly. A 
 sewing frame and a heavy press stood behind her 
 bench and upon a table were neatly arranged the pages 
 of a book upon which she was working. Carefully 
 placed in workmanlike precision were her knives, 
 shears, glue pot and gas heater and a case of stamping 
 irons in pigeonholes. 
 
 She was, this afternoon, in a brown gingham pina 
 fore, with her sleeves rolled up, seated before the 
 table, her sensitive hands moving deftly at the most 
 delicate operation connected with her craft. Upon a 
 square of heavy plate glass, she laid a torn, ragged 
 page, and, from several old fly leaves, selected one that 
 matched it in color. She cut a piece of paper slightly 
 larger than the missing portion, skived the edges, and 
 pasted it over the hole or along the frayed margin. 
 
THE PAYSONS 91 
 
 The work was absorbing and exacting to her eyes; 
 to rest them, she went, from time to time, to the win 
 dow and looked out upon the bay. 
 
 The water was gray-green streaked with a deeper 
 blue. In the "north harbor" two barks lay at anchor 
 in the stream and ferry-boats plied the fairway. In 
 and out of the Gate there passed, at intervals, tugs 
 with sailing ships bound out with lumber or in with 
 nitrates, steamers to coast ports, or liners from over 
 seas, rusty, weather-beaten tramps, strings of heavy- 
 going barges, lusty little tugs, lumber schooners 
 wallowing through the tide rip, Italian fishing smacks, 
 lateen-rigged with russet sails, saucy launches, and, 
 at last, the magnificent bulk of a white battleship slid 
 ing imperiously into the roadstead along the water 
 front. 
 
 At four o clock Clyde s mind seemed to wander from 
 her occupation, and now, when she ceased and looked 
 out of the window, her abstracted gaze was evidently 
 not directed at what she saw. Her mental vision, 
 rather, seemed alert. Her slender golden eyebrows drew 
 closer together, her narrow, sharp nostrils dilated ; 
 her lips, half open, inhaled deep, unconscious breaths. 
 The pupils of her eyes contracted like a cat s in the 
 light. Then she shook herself, passed her hand over 
 her forehead, shrugged her shoulders and resumed 
 her work. 
 
 A little later this performance was repeated; this 
 time, after her momentary preoccupation, she rose 
 more briskly, put her tools away, laid her book care 
 fully aside and took off her pinafore. After washing 
 her hands she went into her own room on the same 
 floor. She went down-stairs ten minutes after, in a 
 
92 THE HEART LINE 
 
 fresh frock, her hair nicely arranged, radiating a faint 
 perfume of violet water. She opened the front door 
 and walked slowly down the path to the gate where 
 the wall, though but waist-high on the garden side, 
 stood high above the sidewalk. Here she waited, 
 touching the balustrade delicately with her out 
 stretched fingers, as if playing upon a piano. The 
 breeze loosened the severity of her coiffure, which 
 relaxed into slight touches of curling frivolity about 
 her ears and neck. Her pink frock billowed out into 
 flowing, statuesque folds as she stood, like a figurehead, 
 gazing off at the mountains. Her mouth was set into 
 a shape not quite a smile, a queer, tremulously subtle 
 expression of suspense. She kept her eyes in the direc 
 tion of Hyde Street. 
 
 It was not long before a man turned the corner 
 and walked briskly toward her. He looked up at the 
 first house on the block, searching for the number; 
 then, as his eyes traveled along to the next gate, he 
 caught sight of her. Instantly his soft felt hat swung 
 off with a quick flourish and he sent her a pleased 
 smile. 
 
 "Here I am, Mr. Granthope !" Clytie called down to 
 him, and on the instant her face was suffused with 
 pink. She had evidently expected him, but now she 
 appeared as agitated as if his coming had surprised 
 her. 
 
 He ran up the flight of wooden steps, his eyes hold 
 ing hers all the way. His dark, handsome face 
 glowed; he abounded with life and spirit as he stood 
 before her, hand outstretched. In the other, he held a 
 small leather-bound book. 
 
 "Good afternoon, Miss Payson!" he said heartily. 
 
THE PAYSONS 93 
 
 He shook hands eagerly, his touch, even in that con 
 ventional greeting, consciously managed; the grasp 
 was sensitive and he delayed its withdrawal a suggest 
 ive second, his dark eyes already at work upon hers. 
 "How lucky I was to catch you out here !" he added, 
 as he dropped her hand. 
 
 "Oh, I ve been expecting you for some time," Clytie 
 replied, retreating imperceptibly, as from an emotional 
 attack, and turning away her eyes. 
 
 He noticed her susceptibility, and modified his man 
 ner slightly. 
 
 "Why! You couldn t possibly have known I was 
 coming?" 
 
 "But I did! Does that surprise you? I told you 
 I had intuitions, you know. You came to bring my 
 ring, didn t you ?" 
 
 "Yes, of course. You really have second-sight, 
 then ?" He looked at her as one might look at a fairy, 
 in amusement mingled with admiration. 
 
 "Yes haven t you?" She put it to him soberly. 
 
 "Haven t I already proved it?" His eyes, well- 
 schooled, kept to hers boldly, seeking for the first 
 sign of her incredulity. Into his manner he had tried 
 to infuse a temperamental sympathy, establishing a 
 personal relation. 
 
 She did not answer for a moment, gazing at him 
 disconcertingly; then her eyes wandered, as she 
 remarked: "You certainly proved something, I don t 
 quite know what." 
 
 He laughed it off, saying: "Well, I ve proved at 
 least that I wanted to see you again, and made the most 
 of this excuse." 
 
 "Yes, I m glad I forgot the ring. I m really very 
 
94 THE HEART LINE 
 
 glad to see you, too I half hoped I might. Won t you 
 come up to my summer-house? It s not so windy 
 there, and we can talk better." 
 
 He accepted, pleased at the invitation and the im 
 plied promise it held, and followed her up the path 
 and off toward the line of trees. The place was now 
 visited by belated sunshine which compensated for the 
 sharp afternoon breeze. In the shelter of the cypress 
 hedge the air was warm and fragrant. Here was an 
 arbor built of withe crockery crates overgrown with 
 climbing nasturtiums; it contained a seat looking 
 eastward, towards Telegraph Hill. In front stood a 
 sun-dial mounted on a terra cotta column, beneath 
 a clump of small Lombardy poplars. 
 
 As she seated herself she pointed to it. "Did you 
 know that this is a sort of cemetery? That sun-dial 
 is really a gravestone. When I was a little girl I 
 buried my doll underneath it. She had broken open, 
 letting the sawdust all out, and I thought she must be 
 dead. It may be there now, for all I know; I never 
 dug her up." 
 
 He looked over at the shaft, saying, "A very pretty 
 piece of symbolism. I suppose I have buried illusions, 
 myself, somewhere." 
 
 She thought it over for a moment, and apparently 
 was pleased. "I d like to dig some of them up," she 
 said at last, turning to him, with the slow movement 
 of her head that was characteristic of her. 
 
 "Haven t you enough left?" 
 
 She started to reply, but evidently decided not to 
 say what she had intended, and let it drop there, her 
 thought passing in a puzzling smile as she looked away 
 again. 
 
THE PAYSONS 95 
 
 He had laid his book beside him upon the bench, 
 and, when her eyes came back, she took it up and 
 looked at it. A glance inside showed it to be an old 
 edition of Montaigne. She smiled, her eyes drifted 
 to him with a hint of approval for his taste, then she 
 turned her interest to the binding. As she fingered 
 the leather, touching the tooled surfaces sensitively, 
 her curiosity did not escape his sharp eyes, watching 
 for anything that should be revelatory. 
 
 She explained : "I have a technical interest in bind 
 ings. I do some of that work myself. It s curious that 
 I happened to be at work to-day on an old copy of 
 Montaigne. I m rebinding it for my father s birth 
 day. You d never think my hands were of any prac 
 tical use, would you?" 
 
 He laughed. "Inconsistencies like that are what 
 baffles one most, especially when one knows that most 
 characters are inconsistent. But we professionals have 
 to go by general rules. I should expect you to be an 
 exception to all of them, though." 
 
 He watched her surreptitiously, noting her diminish 
 ing color, the evasion of her glance, and the air of 
 self-consciousness with which she spoke, as they talked 
 for a while of obvious things the weather, the view, 
 and the picturesque, old-fashioned garden. She had 
 taken the ring and had put it upon her finger, keeping 
 her eyes on its turquoises. Her whole demeanor min 
 istered to his vanity, already pleased by her frank wel 
 come. He was used enough to women s interest and 
 admiration for him to expect it and play upon it, but 
 this was of a shyer and more elusive sort ; it seemed to 
 hold something more seriously considered, it baffled 
 him, even as he enjoyed its unction. Besides all this, 
 
96 THE HEART LINE 
 
 too, there was a secret romantic charm in the fact that 
 they had shared together that vivid experience of the 
 past. He came back for another draught of flattery. 
 
 "It was odd that you expected me, wasn t it?" he 
 said. "I can t help wondering about it." 
 
 She had her eyes upon the Sausalito boat, which 
 was weaving a trailing web of foam past Alcatraz 
 Island. At his words, she turned to him with the 
 same slow seriousness as before and replied : 
 
 "I shouldn t think it would seem so remarkable to 
 you, your own power is so much more wonderful." 
 
 "Perhaps so in that one case, but you know I don t, 
 ordinarily, claim clairvoyance. It s only occasionally, 
 as the other day with you, that I attempt it." 
 
 Her eyes awakened; she said earnestly, "Was I 
 really able to bring that out in you?" 
 
 He caught at the hint. "Why, what else could it 
 be but your magnetism? It was the moro strange 
 because I had never seen you before." 
 
 The glow faded, and she relaxed her nervous energy. 
 "Ah, hadn t you? I wonder!" 
 
 "Why, had you ever seen me before that day?" 
 
 "I think so. At least you seem, somehow, familiar." 
 
 "When was it, and where, then?" 
 
 She seemed too puzzled to answer, or fatigued with 
 following an intangible thread of thought. As she 
 spoke, slowly, intensely, her hands made large, vague 
 gestures, often pausing in mid air, as her voice paused, 
 waiting for the proper word to come. "I don t know. 
 It only seems as if I had been with you or near 
 you, or something I don t know what. It s like a 
 dream or a story I can t quite recall, only " she 
 did not finish the sentence. 
 
THE PAYSONS 97 
 
 He wondered what her game could be. Funda 
 mentally cynical, though he never permitted it to show 
 in his manner, he distrusted her claims to prevision. 
 (There was, after all, nothing in Miss Payson s words 
 that might not be accounted for by what he knew of 
 the wiles of feminine psychology. His training had 
 taught him how much a baseless hint, injected at the 
 proper moment, could accomplish in the masquerade 
 of emotions and the crafty warfare of the sexes. That 
 he and she had been actors together in a past uncom- 
 prehended scene, he regarded as a mere coincidence 
 of which he had already made good use; he refused 
 to connect it with her suggestive remark, for he was 
 sure that she must have been unaware of his presence 
 in Madam Grant s room that day, so long ago. It 
 seemed to him more likely that, woman-fashion, she 
 had shot into the air and had brought down an unsus 
 pected quarry. And yet, even as a coincidence, he 
 could not quite dismiss the strangeness of it from his 
 mind. 
 
 He was preparing to turn it to a sentimental advan 
 tage, when Clyde, who had relapsed into silence, sud 
 denly aroused herself with one of those impulsive 
 outbursts which were characteristic of her. 
 
 "There is something about it all that is stranger 
 still, I think !" 
 
 Her golden brows had drawn together, separated 
 by two vertical lines, as she gazed at him. Then with 
 a little jet of fervor, she added: 
 
 "I m afraid I know too much about you, Mr. Grant- 
 hope ! It s somewhat embarrassing, really. It doesn t 
 seem quite fair, you know." 
 
 "I m not quite sure that I understand." 
 
98 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, you know ! You must know !" 
 
 He laughed. "Really, Miss Payson, it s very flat 
 tering, of course " 
 
 "Oh, no, it s not in the least flattering." 
 
 "I wish you d explain, then." He leaned back; 
 folded his arms and waited indulgently. So long as 
 he could keep the conversation personal, he was sure 
 of being able to manage her, and further his own 
 ends. It amused him. 
 
 She busied herself with a lace handkerchief as she 
 continued, in a low voice, as if she were ridding her 
 self of a disagreeable task, and always with the slow, 
 monotonous turning of her questing eyes toward him, 
 and away. "Of course I ve heard many things about 
 you you re a good deal talked about, you know; 
 but it s not that at all it s an instinctive knowledge 
 I have about you. I can t explain it. It s a queer 
 special feeling almost as if, in some way, I had the 
 right to know. That s why I wanted to see you again 
 < I hoped you d come. I wanted to tell you." 
 
 "But all that certainly is flattering," he said. "I 
 wouldn t be human if I weren t pleased to hear that 
 you re interested, even if " 
 
 She could not help breaking into smiles again, as 
 she interrupted him. 
 
 "Oh, but I haven t told you yet." 
 
 "Please do, then!" 
 
 "It sounds so foolish when I say it so priggish! 
 But it s this : I don t at all approve of you. Why in 
 the world should I care? I don t know. It isn t my 
 business to reform you, if you need it." Now she had 
 brought it out, she could not look at him. 
 
 Curiously enough, though he had been amused at 
 
THE PAYSONS 99 
 
 her assumption of a circumstantial knowledge of him, 
 this hinted comprehension of his character, of the 
 duplicity of his life, if it were that, impressed him 
 with the existence in her mind of some quality as 
 rare and mysterious as electricity, a real psychic gift, 
 perhaps. It gave him an instant s pause. Instinctively 
 he feared a more definite arraignment. He began a 
 little more seriously, now, to match his cleverness 
 against her intuition; and, for the first defense, he 
 employed a move of masculine coquetry. 
 
 "You have been thinking of me, then?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied simply, "I have thought about 
 you a good deal since I was in your studio. But I 
 suppose you re used to hearing things like that from 
 women." She was apologetic, rather than sarcastic. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to be able 
 to make n way against her directness. "I ve thought 
 not a little of you, too, Miss Payson. You are won 
 derfully psychic and sensitive. I think you should 
 develop your power you might be able to do extra 
 ordinary things with it. I wish you d let me help you. 
 That is," he added humorously, "if I m not too far 
 gone in your disapproval." 
 
 "Oh, the disapproval I call it that for want of a bet 
 ter word isn t so important as the fact that I should 
 feel it at all, don t you see? You remember that you 
 told me I was the kind of a woman who, if she liked 
 a man, would tell him so, freely. That is true. I 
 would scorn to stoop to the immemorial feminine 
 tricks. I do like you, and in spite of what I can t quite 
 explain, too. I don t know why, either. It seems 
 as if it s a part of that other feeling I ve mentioned 
 that I ve been with you, or near you, before." 
 
ioo THE HEART LINE 
 
 He leaned forward to extort more of this delicious 
 confession from her. "Do you mean spiritually, or 
 merely physically near?" 
 
 "Oh, I don t mean an elective affinity* or anything so 
 occult as that," she laughed. "Indeed, I don t quite 
 know what I do mean it s all so vague. I can t form 
 ulate it. It escapes me when I try. But I did know, 
 for instance, quite definitely, that I d see you again. I 
 tell you about it only because I think that you, 
 with your power in that way, may be able to under 
 stand it and explain it to me." 
 
 He thought he saw his chance, now, and instinctively 
 he began to pose, letting his eyes deepen and burn on 
 her. He nodded his head and said impressively : 
 
 "Yes. I have felt it, too, Miss Payson. It s won 
 derful to think that you should have recognized me and 
 understood me so well. No one ever has before. We 
 ore related by some tie I m sure we ve met before, 
 somewhere, somehow " 
 
 She jumped up and stood before him, her hands 
 tightly held, her lips pressed together. For a moment, 
 so, she looked hard at him; then what there had 
 been of anger in her gaze softened to something like 
 sadness or pity. 
 
 "That s what I meant!" 
 
 He misunderstood her remark and her attitude and 
 went still farther astray from her meaning. 
 
 "You are not like any other woman I have ever 
 known," he said, in the same soulful way. 
 
 "Why can t you be honest with me !" she broke out 
 She was astonishingly alive now; there was no trace 
 of her former languor. He winced at realizing, sud 
 denly, and too late, that he had made a false step. 
 
THE PAVSONS 101 
 
 "Why do you make me regret having been Frank?" 
 she went on, with a despairing throb in her voice. 
 "You have almost succeeded in making me ashamed of 
 myself, already. That is just what I disapprove of in 
 you. Don t imagine that you can ever deceive me 
 with such sentimentality. I shall always know when 
 you re straightforward and simple. That s what I ve 
 been trying to make you understand that I do know !" 
 
 She turned slowly away from him, almost hope 
 lessly. For a moment she remained immobile, then 
 before he had recovered his wits, she had modified the 
 situation for him. Her eyes drifted back to his as 
 she remarked thoughtfully: 
 
 "I am sure, too, that you could help me, if you 
 would." 
 
 "How?" He tried to pull himself together. 
 
 "Merely by being honest with me." 
 
 He raised his eyebrows. 
 
 "Oh, I know that s a good deal to ask," she laughed. 
 
 "Of me?" 
 
 "Of any one." 
 
 "I ll try, Miss Payson," he said, not too seriously. 
 "But you ve frightened me. I don t dare think too 
 hard about anything, you re such a witch." 
 
 She released him graciously and keyed down to 
 an easier tone. 
 
 "You must forgive me if I ve been too frank, Mr. 
 Granthope, but this interview is almost like a first 
 meeting, and you know how much one is apt to say 
 in such a situation. Let s not continue the discussion 
 I m embarrassed enough already. I know I shall regret 
 what I ve said. We ll talk of something pleasanter. 
 Tell me about that pretty girl in your office." 
 
102 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh!" he exclaimed, and his tone was as if he had 
 said, "Aha!" He wondered if it were possible that, 
 after all, it was only this which had moved her to 
 speak. 
 
 Qytie frowned, but if she read his thought, she 
 let it go unchallenged. 
 
 "She s an original little thing; I like her/* she added. 
 
 "You do?" he said mischievously exaggerating his 
 surprise. 
 
 "Yes, I do. Don t think I m trying to patronize her, 
 but she s a dear and she s very pretty." 
 
 "Do you think so? I shall have to tell her that. 
 She s pretty enough, at least, to have been on the stage. 
 She was in vaudeville for a couple of years. I first 
 got acquainted with her at the Orpheum. I ve known 
 her a long time. She s a great help and a great com 
 fort to me, and a very clever girl." 
 
 "How long has she been your assistant?" 
 
 "Two years." 
 
 "And you haven t fallen in love with her yet ?" 
 
 Granthope was relieved. He was sure now that she 
 was, if not jealous, suspicious of his relations with 
 Fancy. It was not the first time he had encountered 
 such insinuations. 
 
 "Oh, not in the least," he said. "I can give you 
 my word as to that. I don t think it ever occurred to 
 me though I d do anything in the world for her." 
 
 "And I suppose you re as sure of her immunity?" 
 
 "Why, of course," said Granthope, and in his tone 
 there was the ring of masculine assurance. 
 
 Qytie smiled and shook her head. "There are some 
 things men never can know, no matter how clairvoyant 
 they are," she said, looking away. 
 
THE PAYSONS 103 
 
 He did not follow this up, but arose to leave. "I m 
 afraid you have a very poor opinion of me, Miss Pay- 
 son," he said, "but I do feel complimented by your 
 frankness. Perhaps I shall merit it who knows?" 
 It was his turn to address the distance, and, in spite of 
 his consciousness of an histrionic effect, his own words 
 sounded curiously in his ears; they seemed premoni 
 tory. He shook himself free from her influence again. 
 She had controlled the situation from the first word; 
 he had only made a series of mistakes. It all confirmed 
 his first estimate of her : that she was very well worth 
 his while, but that her capture would be difficult. 
 
 Clytie, too, had arisen. Her mood had lightened, 
 and her sense of humor had returned. "I hope I 
 haven t been either tragic or absurd," she said, smil 
 ing. "I m not always so serious, Mr. Granthope. The 
 next time I meet you I ll probably be more conven 
 tional." 
 
 "Then I may see you again?" 
 
 "I doubt if you can help it." 
 
 "I shall certainly not try to!" Then he paused. 
 "You mean?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 There was something delightful to him in this rapid 
 transfer of wordless thought. It again established 
 an intimacy between them. That she acknowledged 
 such a relation by anticipating another meeting, an 
 inevitable one, charmed him the more. He might win, 
 after all, with such assistance from her. Her power 
 of intuition aroused his curiosity he longed to experi 
 ment with it. She was a new plaything which he had 
 yet to learn to handle. Before, he had dominated her 
 easily enough ; he might do so again. 
 
io 4 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Miss Payson," he said, "won t you come down to 
 my studio again sometime? I d like to make a more 
 careful examination of your hand, and perhaps I can 
 help you in developing your psychic sense." 
 
 "Oh, no, thank you. Really, I can t come again 
 I shall be pretty busy for a while I have to go to the 
 Mercantile Library every afternoon, looking up ma 
 terial for my father s book and, after all, I got what 
 I wanted." 
 
 "What did you want?" 
 
 "Partly to see you." 
 
 He bowed. "Curiosity?" 
 
 "Let s call it interest." 
 
 "You had no faith, then, in my palmistry?" 
 
 "Very little." 
 
 "Yet you acknowledge that I told you some things 
 that were true?" 
 
 "Haven t I told you several things about yourself, 
 too?" 
 
 "I d like to hear more." 
 
 "Oh, I ve said too much, already." 
 
 "Let s see. That I am more or less of a villian " 
 
 "But a most interesting one!" 
 
 "That I have met you before" 
 
 "Not perhaps met " 
 
 "That Fancy Gray is in love with me " 
 
 "Oh, I didn t say that !" 
 
 "But you suspect it?" 
 
 "If I did, it was impertinent of me. It s none of my 
 business." 
 
 "Well, you won t come again you ve quite satis 
 fied your curiosity by seeing me ?" 
 
 "Quite. I ve confirmed all my suspicions." 
 
THE PAYSONS 105 
 
 "What were they?" 
 
 Clytie laughed. "Really, you re pushing me a little 
 too hard, Mr. Granthope. I d be glad to have you call 
 here, sometime, if you care to. But my psychic powers 
 are quite keen enough already. They rather frighten 
 me. I want them only explained. As I say, it s 
 embarrassing, sometimes. I hate to speak of what 
 I feel it s all so groundless and it sounds silly." 
 
 "You know more, then, than you mention?" 
 
 "Oh, much !" 
 
 "About me, for instance?" 
 
 "Yes. But it s vague and indefinite. It needn t 
 worry you." 
 
 "Even though you disapprove?" 
 
 She laughed again. "You may take that as a com 
 pliment, if you like." 
 
 He nodded. "It is something that you care." 
 
 "I m mainly curious to see what you ll do " 
 
 "Oh, you re expecting something, then?" 
 
 "I m watching to see. I confess I shall watch you. 
 I said that you interested me that s what I mean. 
 You re going to well, change." 
 
 As she stood between him and the light her soft 
 hair showed as fine and crisp as spun glass. Her 
 lips were sensitively curved with a flitting smile, her 
 eyes were dreamy again. Everything about her 
 bespoke a high spiritual caste, but, to Granthope, this 
 only accented the desirability of her bodily self it 
 would make her the greater prize, unlike anything 
 he had, so far, been able to win. He had an epicure s 
 delight in feminine beauty, and he knew how its flavor 
 should be finely tinctured by mind and soul; even 
 beauty was not exciting without that, and of mere 
 
io6 THE HEART LINE 
 
 beauty he had his fill. Besides, she had unexpected 
 reserves of emotion ^hat he was continually tempted 
 to arouse. But so far he had hopelessly mis- 
 played his part, and he longed to prove his customary 
 skill with women. 
 
 "Well/ he said finally, offering his hand, "I hope 
 I ll be able to satisfy you, sooner or later. I ll come, 
 soon, for a report!" 
 
 "Oh, my mood may have changed, by that time." 
 
 He gave her the farewell amenities and went down 
 the path to the gate. There he turned and saw her 
 still watching him. He waved his hat and went down 
 the steps, his mind restless with thoughts of her. 
 
 Clytie remained a while in the arbor. The fog had 
 begun to come in now with a vanguard of light fleecy 
 clouds riding high in the air, closing the bay in from 
 all sides. The massive bank behind followed slowly, 
 tinted with opal and rose from the setting sun. It 
 settled down, shutting out her sight of the water, and 
 its cohorts were soon scurrying past her on their 
 charge overland from ocean to harbor. The siren at 
 Point Bonita sighed dismally across the channel. It 
 soon grew too cold to remain longer in the garden, 
 and she went into the house shivering, lighted an 
 open fire in the library and sat down. 
 
 For half an hour she sat there in silence, inert, list 
 less, lost in thought, her eyes on the blurred landscape 
 mystic with driving fog. The room grew darker, 
 illuminated only by the fitful flashes of the fire. Her 
 still, relaxed figure, fragile and delicate as an ivory 
 carving, was alternately captured and hidden by the 
 shadow and rescued and restored by the sudden gleam 
 from the hearth. She had not moved when her 
 
THE PAYSONS 10; 
 
 father s step was heard in the hall. He came in, 
 benignly sedate. His deep voice vibrated through the 
 room. 
 
 "Well, Cly, dreaming again?" 
 
 She started at the sound and came out of her reverie 
 to rise and greet him affectionately. He put down 
 some books and a package of papers and lighted the 
 chandelier, exchanging commonplaces with her of her 
 bookbinding work, which she confessed to have 
 shirked; of the weather, with a little of old age s 
 querulous complaint of rheumatic touches ; of the black 
 cat, which was their domestic fetish and (an immor 
 tally interesting topic to him) of the vileness and 
 poisonous quality of San Francisco illuminating gas. 
 His voice flowed on melliflously with unctuous authori 
 ty, as he seated himself in his arm-chair beneath the 
 lamp, shook out his evening paper and rattled its 
 flapping sheets. 
 
 Clytie evinced a mild interest in his remarks, smiled 
 gently at his familiar vagaries, answering when replies 
 should be forthcoming, in her low, even, monotonously 
 pitched tones. She questioned him perfunctorily about 
 the book he was writing, an absorbing avocation with 
 him, warding off his usual disappointment at her 
 lack of sympathy by involving herself in a conver 
 sational web of explanation regarding Foreign Trade 
 Expansion, Reciprocal Profits and The Open Door in 
 the Orient. 
 
 "There s not much use working on it at the office," 
 he concluded. "I m too liable to interruptions." 
 
 "Who interrupted you to-day?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, there was a queer chap in this afternoon, an 
 insurance solicitor; Wooley, his name was. I told 
 
io8 THE HEART LINE 
 
 him I didn t want an accident policy, but I happened 
 to tell him about that time on the Oakland Mole, when 
 I got caught between two trains in the Fourth of July 
 crush you remember? and he told me about all the 
 narrow escapes he ever heard of, trying to get me to 
 go into his company. Funny dog he was. He kept 
 me laughing and talking with him for an hour. Then 
 Blanchard came in. He says he s coming around 
 to-night." He hesitated and scanned her intently 
 through his gold-bowed glasses, under his bushy 
 brows. "I hope you will treat him well, Cly." 
 
 Her face grew serious and her sensitive lips quiv 
 ered, as she said: 
 
 "Why do you like Mr. Cayley so much, father?" 
 
 "Why, he s a very intelligent fellow, Cly; I don t 
 know of another young man of his age who is really 
 worth talking to. He knows things. He has a broad 
 outlook and a serious mind. He s the kind of young 
 man we need to take hold of political and commercial 
 reform. I tell you, the country is going to the dogs 
 for lack of men who are interested in anything 
 outside of their own petty concerns. Why, he s the only 
 one I know who really seems interested in oriental 
 trade and all its development means to the Pacific slope. 
 That s remarkable, considering he isn t himself con 
 nected with any commercial enterprise. I don t know 
 what I d do if I didn t have him to discuss my subject 
 with. He seems to be genuinely interested in it. I 
 wish you were as much so, Cly !" 
 
 Clytie turned away, smiling somewhat ironically, an 
 uncommon expression for her engaging features. 
 
 "You know," she said slowly, "that I don t quite 
 trust him." 
 
THE PAYSONS 109 
 
 "Why, you two have been friends long enough, you 
 should know him better by this time. You re intimate 
 enough with him." 
 
 "Oh, it s only a feeling I have. You know I have 
 my intuitions but what friendship there is has been 
 of his seeking." 
 
 "He s all right, Cly," her father said dictatorially. 
 "I haven t lived in the West for fifty years without 
 knowing something of men. I do want you to learn 
 to appreciate him. He s got a future before him and he 
 is certainly fond of you. You know, if anything did 
 come of it, I would " 
 
 Clytie arose abruptly. "I think dinner s almost 
 ready, father, and I m hungry. Are you ready?" 
 
 She was imperious, holding her tawny head erect, 
 her chin high, her hands clasped behind her back, 
 the willowy suppleness of her body now grown rigid. 
 Mr. Payson sighed resignedly, and allowed a moment s 
 silence to speak for him then, finding that his daugh 
 ter s attitude continued to dominate the situation, he, 
 too, arose, patted her cheek and shook his head. This 
 pantomime coaxed forth a gracious smile from her. 
 He took his manuscripts and left to go up to his r6om. 
 Clytie remained at the window till he returned. 
 
 They had nearly finished their dinner, when, after 
 a casual dialogue, she remarked, without looking at 
 him: 
 
 "Father, do you remember anything about an old 
 crazy woman who lived down south of Market Street 
 somewhere, years ago in a cheap hotel, I think it 
 was?" 
 
 He started at her question and his voice, ordinarily 
 so calm and so mellow, quavered slightly. 
 
I io THE HEART LINE 
 
 "What do you mean? Who was she?" he asked 
 earnestly. 
 
 "That s what I want to know," Clyde said, stirring 
 her coffee. 
 
 "What do you know about her?" 
 
 "Why I went to see her once." 
 
 "You went to see her? When?" 
 
 "Then you did know her !" 
 
 Mr. Payson spoke cautiously, watching his daughter. 
 "I have heard about her, yes, but I never knew you had 
 been there. How in the world did that happen? It 
 must have been a long time ago." He stared as if 
 he could scarcely believe her assertion. 
 
 "Mother took me there once or twice. It s almost 
 the first thing I remember." 
 
 "She did? She never told me! It s strange you 
 have never mentioned it before." 
 
 "Perhaps I oughtn t to mention it now. I thought, 
 somehow, that she wouldn t want me to tell you about 
 it." 
 
 His tone now was disturbed, anxious, pitched in a 
 higher key. 
 
 "Why shouldn t you speak of it? What difference 
 could it possibly make ? I remember that woman, yes. 
 She was not old, though. Do you recall her well? 
 You were very young then." 
 
 "I can almost see her now. She had white hair 
 and black eyebrows, with a vertical line between them ; 
 she was pale, but with bright red lips. She wore a 
 stra-nge red gown. I think she must have been very 
 beautiful at one time. Who was she, father?" Clytie 
 sent a calm, level glance at him. 
 
 "Oh, she was a friend of your mother s. Your 
 
THE PAYSONS in 
 
 mother and I used to keep track of her and help her, 
 that s all." 
 
 "Was she poor, then?" 
 
 "No, she wasn t. That was the queer part of it. 
 She had considerable ability and actually carried 
 on a real estate business, though she was pretty mad. 
 She had lucid intervals, though, when she was as rea 
 sonable as any one." 
 
 "What became of her?" 
 
 "She died, I think, of heart disease. It must have 
 been the same year your mother died, if I remember 
 rightly." 
 
 "What was her name?" 
 
 Mr. Payson grew more nervous at this questioning, 
 but he replied, "They called her Madam Grant, I 
 believe. How did you happen to bring up the subject 
 after all these years, Cly?" 
 
 It was her turn to be embarrassed. "Well I ve 
 recalled that scene occasionally, and wondered about 
 it it has always been a mystery I couldn t explain, 
 and I never dared talk about it. Of course, it s only 
 one of those vivid early pictures of childhood, but it 
 has always seemed very romantic." 
 
 "It was a strange situation," Mr. Payson replied. 
 "She was a very unfortunate woman and I was sorry 
 for her. I never would have permitted you to go, if 
 I had known, of course, but perhaps your mother knew 
 best." He dropped his chin upon his hand. "Yes, 
 I m glad you went, now. What impression did she 
 make on you?" 
 
 "I only remember thinking how beautiful she must 
 have been." 
 
 "Yes," Mr. Payson s voice was almost inaudible. 
 
112 THE HEART LINE 
 
 He pushed his chair back, rose and went into the 
 library. Clytie followed him. 
 
 "Are you going out to-night, father? * 
 "Yes, I ve got some business to attend to." 
 "In the evening?" she raised her brows. 
 "Oh, I m only looking up something for my book." 
 He turned away to avoid her gaze. 
 
 "Oh!" She sat down and took up a book without 
 questioning him further. Soon after, the front door 
 bell rang and Mr. Cayley was shown in by the Chinese 
 servant. 
 
 Blanchard Cayley was well known about town, 
 for he had a place in many different coteries. By his 
 birth he inherited a position in a select Southern set 
 that had long monopolized social standing and 
 looked scornfully down upon the upstart railroad aris 
 tocracy and that nowveau riche element which was 
 prominent chiefly through the notoriety conferred by 
 the newspapers. Blanchard Cayley s parts gained him 
 the entree, besides, to less conventional circles, where 
 his wit and affability made him a favorite. He belonged 
 to two of the best clubs, but his inclinations led him 
 to dine usually at French or Italian restaurants, where 
 good-fellowship and ability distinguished the com 
 pany. He wrote a little and knew the best news 
 paper men and all the minor poets in town. He drew 
 a little, and was familiar with all the artists. He 
 accounted himself a musical critic and cultivated com 
 posers. He knew San Francisco like a rat, knew it 
 as he knew the intricacies of French forms of verse, 
 as well as he knew the architecture of music and the 
 history of painting. He had long ceased his nocturnal 
 meanderings "down the line" from the Hoffman Bar 
 
THE PAYSONS 113 
 
 to Dunn s saloon, but he occasionally took a post 
 graduate course, of sorts, to see whether, for the 
 nonce, the city was wide open or shut. He had dis 
 covered the Latin Quarter, now well established as a 
 show-place for jaded pleasure-seekers, and had played 
 bocce with the Italians in the cellars of saloons, before 
 the game was heard of by Americans. He had found 
 the marionette theater in its first week, traced every 
 one of Stevenson s haunts before the Tusitala had died 
 in Samoa, knew the writings of "Phoenix" almost 
 by heart, and had devoured half the Mercantile Libra 
 ry. Tar Flat and the Barbary Coast he knew as well 
 as the Mission and North Beach, and as for Chinatown, 
 he had ransacked it for queer jars, jade and hand-made 
 jewelry, exhausting its possibilities long before San 
 Franciscans had realized the presence, in that quarter, 
 of anything but an ill-smelling purlieu of tourists 
 bazaars. 
 
 He had "discovered" women as well women, for 
 the most part, whose attractions few other persons 
 seemed to appreciate. His last find was Clytie Pay- 
 son a much more valuable tribute to his taste than 
 any heretofore. He had devoted himself assiduously 
 to her, and it was his boast that he could remember 
 the hat she wore when he first saw her, ten years 
 before. His pursuit of her had been eccentric. Cayley 
 was mathematical and his methods were built upon a 
 system. During the first years of their acquaintance 
 he alternated months of neglect with picturesque arriv 
 als on nights so tempestuous and foul that his presence 
 would be sure to be counted as a flattering tribute, 
 and would outweigh, with his obvious devotion, the 
 previous languor of his pursuit. This was a fair 
 
114 THE HEART LINE 
 
 sample of the subtlety of his psychological amours, for 
 Blanchard Cayley was not of the temperament to run 
 across the room and kiss a girl with verve and ardor. 
 He led, however, an intense mental life; there he 
 was a creature of enthusiasms and contempts, capable 
 of no intermediate emotion. 
 
 What else was true of his character it would be 
 necessary to determine from the several ladies of his 
 choice whom he kept carefully apart, recipients of his 
 subdivided confidence. Blanchard Cayley did not 
 introduce female contemporaries. 
 
 He wore a carefully trimmed, reddish, Vandyke 
 beard, with a drooping mustache; his hair curled a 
 bit effeminately. Large blue eyes, the well-developed 
 nose of the hobbyist, hands of a sixteenth-century 
 gentleman, aristocratic, well-kept, soft. To-night he 
 was in half-dress dinner jacket and gold studs, an 
 inch wide stripe upon his trousers this under a yellow 
 mackintosh and cricket cap, in strict accordance with 
 his own ideas of form. 
 
 Mr. Pay son was in the library still busy with his 
 manuscript when he entered. The two shook hands. 
 Blanchard s manner had in it something of a survival 
 of the old school. He was never awkward, yet never 
 bombastic. Suave, rather, with a semi-humorous touch 
 that relieved his courtesy of anything solemn. He 
 smiled, showing his teeth, saying, with an appearance 
 of great interest, 
 
 "Well, Mr. Payson, I see you re still at it How s 
 The Open Door in the Orient? 
 
 "Oh, getting on," said Mr. Payson. "I want to 
 read you my last chapter when I get a chance. I 
 think you ll like it." 
 
THE PAYSONS 115 
 
 Cayley had been successful in appearing to listen, 
 and at the same time pay his respects to Clytie, whose 
 hand he did not let go without a personal pressure 
 in addition to the visible greeting. He kept it an 
 unpleasant half-second longer than had Granthope. 
 She freed herself with a slight gesture of discomfort. 
 
 "Perhaps I d better go up-stairs and leave you men 
 alone to talk it over," she suggested. 
 
 "Certainly not," said her father. "I ll wait until 
 some other time, only I thought Blanchard would 
 be interested." 
 
 "Indeed, I am," Cayley protested. "I m very 
 anxious to hear your opinion about gold, too. I have 
 something to suggest, myself. Oh !" He delved into 
 his breast pocket. "Here are some notes on the his 
 tory of the trade dollar, Mr. Payson. You know I 
 was speaking of it. I ve been looking up the subject 
 at the mint and at the library for you; I think it 
 might give you some ideas." 
 
 Mr. Payson took the paper eagerly and pushed up 
 his spectacles to examine it. "Thank you ; thank you 
 very much. I ll be glad to look it over. It s a 
 pleasure to find any one nowadays who s so interested 
 in what is going to be a very vital question. You ll 
 find my cigars here, somewhere. Cly, you go and find 
 the box, won t you?" 
 
 As Clytie disappeared in the direction of the dining- 
 room, he added, "You must humor her, Blanchard, 
 she s a bit skittish. Don t force her hand and I think 
 you ll bring her around." 
 
 "Thanks for the tip, but I have my idea," was the 
 reply. "It s only a question of time when I shall 
 be able to produce the psychological condition I want." 
 
u6 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Mr. Payson shook his head dubiously. "I don t 
 know. That isn t the way we went about it when I 
 was young. We didn t bother much with psychology 
 then. We had emotions to attend to." 
 
 "Oh, love-making is just as much a science as any 
 thing else, and there is no reason why it shouldn t 
 progress. There are modern methods, you know ; 
 it s only a form of hypnotism." He smiled blandly. 
 
 When he and Clytie were alone a situation she 
 seemed to delay as much as possible Cayley sat down 
 opposite her with an ingratiating, disarming smile. 
 He was neither eager nor impressive. He was sure 
 of himself. It did not, as he had said, seem to matter 
 a great deal about her emotions; he scarcely consid 
 ered her otherwise than as a mind whose defenses he 
 was to overthrow in an intellectual contest. He began 
 with elaborate circumlocution. 
 
 "Well, I ve discovered something." 
 
 Her delicate eyebrows rose. 
 
 "It is a curious botanical fact that there are four 
 thousand lamp-posts in the city of San Francisco." 
 , "Why botanical?" 
 
 "That is just what I expected you to ask." 
 
 "Then I ll not ask it." She was already on the 
 defense. 
 
 "But you did !" 
 
 "Well?" She appeared to resent his tone. 
 
 "Now, see here!" He laid his right forefinger to 
 his left palm. "Suppose a Martian were visiting the 
 earth. He wouldn t at first be able to distinguish the 
 properties of things. So, seeing these four thousand 
 lamp-posts, he might consider them as a part of the 
 Terrene flora queer trees." 
 
THE PAYSONS 117 
 
 It was like a game of chess, and it was evident that 
 she could not foresee his next move. The detour was 
 too complicated. She seemed, by her attitude, to be 
 on her guard, but allowed him, with a nod of assent, 
 to proceed. 
 
 "Now, suppose you have the Martian, or let us call 
 it the uncorrelative point of view. Suppose you use 
 brain-cells that have hitherto been quiescent or unde 
 veloped." 
 
 "I don t exactly follow." Her attention wandered. 
 
 He probed it. "Suppose I should get up and kiss 
 you." 
 
 She awoke suddenly. 
 
 "You see what I mean now?" he continued. "You 
 exploded a new cell then. You gained a new point 
 of view with regard to me. Don t be afraid. I m not 
 going to kiss you." 
 
 "Indeed, you re not!" Her alarm subsided; her 
 resentment, rising to an equal level, was drawn off in a 
 smile at the absurdity of the discussion. 
 
 He went on: "But you must acknowledge that I 
 have, at least, produced a psychological condition. I m 
 going to use that new cell again." He waited for her 
 answer. 
 
 "Dear me!" she exclaimed at last. "We re getting 
 very far away from the lamp-posts. I m quite in 
 the dark" 
 
 He proceeded: "My character is lighted by four 
 thousand lamp-posts also." 
 
 "Ah, I see ! You want me to regard them as botani 
 cal facts. I, as a supposititious Martian, with this won 
 derful new cell, am to perceive in you something that 
 is not true?" 
 
n8 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "No, for in Mars, the lamp-posts, we will suppose, 
 are vegetables not mechanical objects." 
 
 "A little more light from the lamp-posts, please/ 
 
 "They are emotions, alive and growing. They have 
 heat as well as light, in spite of their subtleties. I want 
 you to perceive the fact that my methodical nature 
 shows that I have a determined, potent stimulus * 
 that I have energy that I am in earnest." 
 
 She seemed to sniff the danger now and stood at 
 gaze. He went on: 
 
 "I shall keep at the attempt until you do look at me 
 in this way till I ve educated these dormant cells." 
 
 "If you are leading up to another proposal," Qytie 
 said, "I must say I admire your devotion to method, 
 but it is time thrown away." 
 
 He took this calmly enough. He took everything 
 calmly; but he did not abate his persistence. "I m 
 not leading up to a proposal so much as I am to an 
 acceptance." 
 
 Clytie shrugged her shoulders. "You ll be telling 
 me you re in love with me next." 
 
 "Do you doubt it?" 
 
 "A half-dozen proposals have not convinced me." 
 
 "Seven," he corrected. "This is the eighth." 
 
 "How long do you intend to keep it up?" 
 
 "Until I produce in your mind a psychological con 
 dition which will convince you that I m in earnest, 
 that I am sincere, that I am the man for you. Then 
 I shall produce an emotional reflex it s sure to follow. 
 It may come to-night and it may come next year. 
 Sooner or later circumstances will bring about this 
 crystallization. Some shock may help; it may be a 
 simple growth. I am sure to win you in the long run. 
 
THE PAYSONS 119 
 
 I m bound to have you,, and I will, if I have to make 
 a hundred attempts. You can t dismiss me, for I m 
 an old friend and you need me. I have educated you, 
 I have broadened your horizon. You see, I am play 
 ing with my cards on the table." 
 
 "But without trumps." Clytie stifled a yawn. 
 
 "Meaning, I suppose, that I have no heart ? Clubs 
 may do. I rely upon your atavism." 
 
 "I suppose you have as much heart as can be made 
 out of brain." 
 
 "What if I say that I m jealous? Will that prove 
 that I have a heart?" 
 
 "Oh, you re too conceited ever to be jealous." 
 
 "But I am! I ll prove it. I happen to know that 
 that palmist person, Granthope, was here this after 
 noon and you spent half an hour with him. How s 
 that?" 
 
 "How do you know?" She awoke to a greater 
 interest. 
 
 "You don t seem to realize that I make it my busi 
 ness to know all about you. This came by accident, 
 though. I was on the Hyde Street car and I saw 
 him get off and come in here. I waited at the end of 
 the road till he went back. Now, what if I should 
 tell your father that you have been entertaining a 
 faking palmist here, on the sly ?" He leaned back and 
 folded his hands. 
 
 Clytie rose swiftly and walked to the door without 
 a look at him. 
 
 "Father," she called, "Mr. Cayley has something 
 to say to you." 
 
 "Never mind," Cayley protested. "That was merely 
 an experiment." 
 
120 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Mr. Payson, in overcoat and silk hat, thrust a mildly 
 expectant head in the room. 
 
 "It was only about the trade dollar business," said 
 Cayley. "I ll tell you some other time." 
 
 Mr. Payson withdrew, scenting no mischief, and 
 Clytie sat down without a word. 
 
 "Thought you d call my bluff, did you?" said Cay- 
 ley, unruffled. "I like spirit!" 
 
 "If you don t look out you ll succeed in boring 
 me." Clytie s manner had shown an amused scorn 
 rather than resentment. She was evidently not afraid 
 of him. 
 
 "You re fighting too hard to be bored," he remarked 
 coolly. He added, "Then you are interested in him, 
 are you?" 
 
 "I am." Clytie looked him frankly in the face. 
 
 "Why?" he asked. 
 
 "I ve heard a lot about him and he appeals to my 
 imagination. I scarcely think I need to apologize for 
 it. Have you any objection to my knowing him?" 
 
 "I d rather you wouldn t get mixed up with him; 
 since he s been taken up the women are simply crazy 
 about him, as they always are about any charlatan. 
 They re all running after him and calling on him and 
 ringing him up at all hours. Why, Cly, they actually 
 lie in wait for him at his place; trying to get a 
 chance to talk to him alone. I don t exactly see you in 
 that class, that s all. You can scarcely blame me." 
 
 "Oh, I haven t rung him up yet," said Clytie, "but 
 there s no knowing what I may do, of course, with all 
 my unexploded brain-cells." 
 
 "How did he happen to come here, then?" 
 
 "He came to see me, I suppose." 
 
THE PAYSONS 121 
 
 Cayley accepted the rebuff gracefully. "Well, in 
 another month, when some one else comes along, peo 
 ple will drop him with a thud. He s a nine days 
 wonder now, but he s too spectacular to last. This is 
 a great old town! We need another new fakir now 
 that the old gentleman in the Miller house has stopped 
 his Occult Brotherhood in the drawing-room and his 
 antique furniture repository in the cellar. I haven t 
 heard of anything so picturesque since that Orpheum 
 chap caught the turnips on a fork in his teeth, that 
 were tossed from the roof of the Palace Hotel. I sup 
 pose I ll have a good scandal about Granthope, pretty 
 soon, to add to my collection." 
 
 Clytie accepted the diversion, evidently only too glad 
 to change the subject. "What collection?" she asked. 
 
 "My San Francisco Improbabilities, I ve got a 
 note-book full of them things no sane Easterner 
 would believe possible, and no novelist dare to use 
 in fiction." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I remember your telling me. What are 
 they? One was that house made entirely of doors, 
 wasn t it?" 
 
 "Yes, the house of one hundred and eighty doors 
 at the foot of Ninth Street. Then, there is the hulk 
 of the Orizaba over by the Union Iron Works, where 
 Frank the Frenchman lives like a hermit, eats swill 
 and bathes in the sewage of the harbor. Then there s 
 Munson s Mystery on the North beach nobody has 
 ever found out who Munson is. And Dailey, the star 
 eater of the Palace Hotel he used to have four can 
 vas-back ducks cooked, selected one and used only the 
 juice from the others; he ordered soup at a dollar a 
 plate; and he had a happy way of buying a case of 
 
122 THE HEART LINE 
 
 champagne with each meal, drinking only the top glass 
 from each bottle." 
 
 Clytie laughed now, for Cayley was in one of his 
 most amusing and enthusiastic moods. "Do you 
 remember that tramp who lived all summer in the 
 Hensler vault in Calvary Cemetery?" 
 
 "Yes, but that isn t so impossible as Kruger s castle 
 out in the sand-hills by Tenth Avenue. It s a perfect 
 jumble of job-lot buildings from the Mid-winter Fair, 
 like a nightmare palace. I went out there once and 
 saw old Mother Kruger, so tortured with rheumatism 
 that she had to crawl round on her hands and knees. 
 She had only one tooth left. The old man is one of 
 the last of the wood-engravers and calls himself the 
 Emperor of the Nations. He has resurrected Hannibal 
 and an army of two hundred thousand men ; also he 
 revived Pompeii for three days. He wanted to bring 
 Mayor Sutro back to life for me, but I wouldn t 
 stand for it." 
 
 Cayley swept on with his anecdotes. "Who would 
 believe the story of Big Bertha/ who buncoed all the 
 swellest Hebrews in town, and ended by playing 
 Mazeppa in tights at the Bella Union Theater? Who 
 has written the true story of Dennis Kearney, the 
 hack-driver, who had his speeches written for him by 
 reporters, and went East with a big head, uncon 
 sciously to plagiarize Wendell Phillips in Fanueil Hall ? 
 Or of Mammy Pleasant, the old negress who had 
 such mysterious influence over so many millionaires 
 who couldn t be bribed who died at last, with all her 
 secrets untold? There s Romance in purple letters! 
 
 "What do you think of a first folio Shakespeare, 
 the rent-roll of Stratford parish, and a collection of 
 
THE PAYSONS 123 
 
 Incunabula worth thirty thousand dollars, kept in the 
 deserted library on Montgomery Street in a case, by 
 Jove, without a lock! What s the matter with Little 
 Pete, the Chinaman, jobbing all the race-tracks in 
 California ? Who d believe that there are streets here, 
 within a mile of Lctta s fountain, so steep that they 
 pasture cows on the grass?" 
 
 Then there s Emperor Norton, and the Vigilance 
 Committee, and all the secrets of the Chinatown slave 
 trade," Clytie contributed, with aroused interest. 
 
 "Oh, I m not speaking of that sort of thing. That s 
 been done, and the East and England think that 
 Romance departed from here with the red-shirted 
 miner. Everybody knows about the Bret Harte type of 
 adventure. It s the things that are going on now 
 or have happened within a few years like finding 
 that Chinese woman s skeleton upside down, built into 
 the wall of the house on the corner of Powell and 
 Sutter; like Bill Dockery, the food inspector, who 
 terrorized the San Bruno road, like a new Claude 
 Duval, holding up the milkmen with a revolver and 
 a lactometer, and went here, there and everywhere, 
 into restaurants and hotels all over the peninsula, 
 dumping watered milk into the streets till San Fran 
 cisco ran white with it." 
 
 "Then there s Carminetti s," Clytie recalled, now. 
 "That s modern enough, and typical of San Francisco, 
 isn t it? I mean not so much what s done there, as 
 the way they do it. I ve always wanted to go down 
 there some Saturday night and see just what it s like." 
 "I wouldn t want you to be seen there, Cly, it 
 wouldn t do." Cayley shook his head decidedly. 
 "Why wouldn t it do?" 
 
124 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "It s a little too lively a crowd. You d be dis 
 gusted, if they happened to hit things up a bit, as they 
 often do." 
 
 "I don t see why I shouldn t te privileged to see 
 what is going on. It s a part of my education, isn t 
 it ? It s all innocent enough, from what you say ; it s 
 at worst nothing but vulgar. " I think I am proof 
 against that." 
 
 "People would get an altogether wrong opinion of 
 you. They d think you were fast." 
 
 "I fast?" Clytie smiled. "I think I can risk that. 
 I shouldn t probably want to go more than once, it s 
 true. You don t know me, that s all. You don t 
 believe that I can go from one world of convention 
 to another and accept the new rules of life when it s 
 necessary. It s just for that reason that I do wish 
 to go as, when I went to London, I wanted to see if 
 I could accept all their slow, poky methods of business 
 and transportation and everything and find out the 
 reason of it all for myself, before I thought of criti 
 cizing it. I want to understand Carminetti s, if I can, 
 and if you won t take me, I ll find some one who will." 
 
 "Granthope, perhaps ?" Cayley suggested with irony. 
 
 "I have no doubt he d understand my motives better 
 than you do!" 
 
 "Well, it might be an interesting experiment. Miss 
 Payson at Carminetti s there s a San Francisco con 
 trast for you!" 
 
 "You may add it to your list of Improbabilities. 
 Study me, if you like, and put me in your list. You 
 may find that I have a surprise or two left for you." 
 She smiled to herself and threw back her head proudly. 
 
 "You do tempt me to try it," he said, coolly watch- 
 
THE PAYSONS 125 
 
 ing her. "You d look as inconsistent there as those old 
 French family portraits in that saloon out on the Beach 
 Lords of Les Baux, they were, I believe, administra 
 tors of the high justice, the middle and the low! 
 
 "And, oh !" he added, " that reminds me of another 
 thing I found to-day while I was looking over a file 
 of the Chronicle, digging up this trade dollar busi 
 ness. It was way back in 1877; a queer story, but I 
 suppose it s true." 
 
 "What was it?" Clytie asked. The rays of the 
 lamp shot her hair with gold sparks as she sat in a 
 low chair, listening. 
 
 "Why, there was an old woman who was half 
 crazy; she lived down south of Market Street some 
 where in the most fearful squalor." 
 
 Clytie suddenly moved back into the shadow. 
 
 "Yes, yes, what else?" She followed his words 
 with absorbed attention. 
 
 "There was no furniture except a lot of boxes and 
 a bookcase. And here s the remarkable thing: there 
 was about two inches of rubbish and dirt matted down 
 all over the floor, where she used to hide money and 
 food and any old thing, wrapped in little packages. 
 When she died, her stuff was auctioned off, and they 
 found a trunk with a whole new wedding outfit in it. 
 How s that?" 
 
 "What was her name ?" Clytie asked breathlessly. 
 
 "I don t remember it. She was a sort of clairvoyant, 
 I believe. There was a little boy lived with her, too. 
 It seems he disappeared after she died. Ran away." 
 
 Clytie leaned forward again, her eyes wide open and 
 staring. Her hands were tightly clasped together. 
 
 "A little boy?" she repeated. 
 
126 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Why, that s what it said in the paper. Great story, 
 isn t it?" 
 
 Clytie s breath came and went rapidly, as if she were 
 trying to breathe in a storm, amidst the dashing of 
 waves. The color went from her cheeks, her thin 
 nostrils dilated. Then, retreating into the shade again, 
 she managed to say : 
 
 "It certainly is romantic." 
 
 "No one would believe a thing like that could be 
 true," he followed. 
 
 "No, I can scarcely believe it s possible, myself," she 
 replied, controlling her agitation. 
 
 Blanchard Cayley ran on and on with his talk. 
 Gytie gave him scant attention, answering in mono 
 syllables. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 
 
 Two hours after leaving Granthope s studio, Mr. 
 Gay P. Summer had "dated" Fancy Gray. Mr. Sum 
 mer was a "Native Son of the Golden West" ; he had, 
 indeed, risen to the honorable station of Vice Presi 
 dent of the Fort Point Parlor of that ecstatic organi 
 zation. He was, in his modest way, a leader of men, 
 and aspired to a corresponding mastery over women. 
 In all matters pertaining to the pursuit and conquest of 
 the fair sex, Mr. Summer was prompt, ingenious and 
 determined. Before two weeks were over he was 
 able to boast, to his room-mate, of Fancy s subjection. 
 Fancy herself might equally well have boasted of his. 
 At the end of this time he was, at least, in possession 
 of her photograph, six notes written in a backward, 
 slanting penmanship, twelve words to the damask 
 page, with the date spelled out, a lock of hair (though 
 this was arrant rape), and one gray suede, left-hand 
 glove. These he displayed, as trophies of the chase, 
 upon the bureau of his bedroom and defended them, 
 forbye, from the asteistic comments of his room-mate, 
 an unwilling and unconfessed admirer of Gay P. Sum 
 mer s power to charm and subdue. 
 
 In those two weeks much had been done that it is 
 not possible to do elsewhere than in the favored city 
 by the Golden Gate. A Sunday excursion to the beach 
 was the fruit of his first telephonic conversation. 
 There are beaches in other places, indeed, but there 
 
 127 
 
128 THE HEART LINE 
 
 is no other Carville-by-the-Sea. This capricious sub 
 urb, founded upon the shifting sands of "The Great 
 Highway," as San Francisco s ocean boulevard is 
 named, is a little, freakish hamlet, whose dwellings 
 one could not seriously call them houses are built, for 
 the most part, of old street-cars. The architecture is 
 of a new order, frivolously inconsequent. According 
 to the owner s fancy, the cars are placed side by side 
 or one atop the other, arranged every way, in fact, 
 except actually standing on end. From single cars, 
 more or less adapted for temporary occupancy, to 
 whimsical residences, in which the car appears only in 
 rudimentary fragments, a suppressed motif suggested 
 by rows of windows or by sliding doors, the owners 1 
 taste and originality have had wanton range. Bal 
 conies jut from roofs, piazzas inclose sides and fronts, 
 cars are welded together, dovetailed, mortised, added 
 as ells at right angles or used terminally as kitchens 
 to otherwise normal habitations. 
 
 Gay P. Summer was, with his room-mate, the pro 
 prietor of a car of the more modest breed. It was a 
 weather-worn, blistered, orange-colored affair that had 
 once done service on Mission Street. The cash-box 
 was still affixed to the interior, the platform, shaky 
 as it was, still held ; the gong above, though cracked, 
 still rang. There was a partition dividing what they 
 called their living-room, where the seats did service 
 for bunks, from the kitchen, where they were bridged 
 for a table and perforated for cupboards. There was 
 a shaky canvas arrangement over a plank platform ; 
 and beneath, in the sand, was buried a treasure of 
 beer bottles, iron knives, forks and spoons and wood 
 en plates. 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 129 
 
 Here, unchaperoned and unmolested, save by the 
 wind and sun, Gay P. Summer and Fancy Gray pro 
 ceeded to get acquainted. They made short work of 
 it. 
 
 Fancy s velvet cheeks were painted with a fine rose 
 color that day. Her hair looked well in disorder ; how 
 much better it would have looked, had it kept its nat 
 ural tone, she did not realize. Her firm, white line 
 of zigzag teeth made her smile irresistible, even 
 though she chewed gum. Her eyes were lambent, flick 
 ering from brown to green ; her lower lids, shaded with 
 violet, made them seem just wearied enough to give 
 them softness. None of this was lost on Gay. 
 
 He, too, was well-developed, masculine, agile, with 
 a juvenile glow and freshness of complexion that 
 rivaled hers. His dress was jimp and artful, with tie 
 and socks of the latest and most vivid mode. Upon 
 his short, pearl, covert coat, he wore a mourning band, 
 probably for decoration rather than as a badge of 
 affliction. His eyes were still bright and clear without 
 symptoms of dissipation. His laughter was good to 
 hear, but, as to his talk, little would bear repetition 
 slangy badinage, the braggadocio of youth, a gay run 
 ning fire of obvious retort and innuendo, frolic and flir 
 tations. That Fancy appeared to enjoy it should go 
 without saying. She was not for criticism of her host 
 and entertainer that fine day. She let herself go in 
 the way of gaiety he led and slanged him jest for jest, 
 for Fancy herself had a pert and lively tongue. 
 
 Upon one point only did she fail to meet him. Not 
 a word in regard to her employer could he get from 
 her. Again and again, Gay came back to the subject 
 of the palmist and his business secrets ; Fancy parried 
 
130 THE HEART LINE 
 
 his queries every time. He tried her with flattery she 
 laughed in his face. He attempted to lead her on by 
 disclosing vivacious secrets of his own life ; his ammu 
 nition was only wasted upon her. He coaxed; he 
 threatened jocosely (she defended herself ably from 
 his punitive kiss), but her discretion was impregnable. 
 She made merry at his expense when he sulked. She 
 tantalized him when he pleaded. Her wit was too 
 nimble for him and he gave up the attempt. 
 
 The stimulation of this first meeting went to Fancy s 
 head. She laughed like a child. She sang snatches 
 from her vaudeville days and mimicked celebrities. 
 Gay dropped his pose of worldly wisdom and made 
 shrieking puns. They played like Babes in the Wood. 
 
 At seven o clock, hungry and sun-burned, they 
 walked along the beach to the Cliff House and dined 
 upon the glazed veranda, watching the surf break on 
 Seal Rocks. As they sat there in the dusk, haunted 
 by an elusive waiter, Gay waxed eloquent about him 
 self, told of his high office in the Native Sons, revealed 
 the amount of his salary at the bank, touched lightly 
 upon his previous amours, bragged loftily of his indis 
 cretions at exuberant inebriated festivals, puffing mag 
 nificently the while at a "two-bit" cigar. 
 
 Fancy paid for her meal by listening to him con 
 scientiously, ejaculating "No!" and "Yes?" or "Say, 
 Gay, that s a josh, isn t it?" If her mind wandered 
 (Fancy was nobody s fool), he did not perceive it. 
 
 To their cocktails and California claret they now 
 added a Benedictine, and Gay grew still more confi 
 dential. The night fell, and the crowd began to leave. 
 They walked entirely round the hotel corridor, bought 
 an abalone shell split into layers of opalescent hues, 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 131 
 
 then with a last look at the sea-lions, barking in the 
 surge, they walked for the train, found a place in 
 an open car and sat down, wedged into a hilarious 
 crowd, reveling in song and peanuts. 
 
 Disregarded was the superb view they passed. The 
 train, skirting the precipitous cliffs along the Golden 
 Gate, commanded a splendor of darkling water and 
 tumultuous mountain distances, theatrical in beau 
 ty. The sea splashed at the foot of the precipice 
 beneath them. The hills rose above their heads, the 
 intermittent twinkle of lighthouses punctuated the pur 
 ple gloom. It was all lost upon them. Fancy s head 
 drooped to Gay s shoulder. He put his arm about 
 her, cocking his hat to one side that it might not 
 strike hers as he leaned nearer. No one observed 
 them, no one cared, for every Jack had his Jill, and 
 a simple, primitive comradeship had settled upon the 
 wearied throng. A baby whined occasionally as the 
 train lurched round the sharp curves of the track. A 
 riotous yell or two came from the misogynists of the 
 smoking compartment. Fancy did not talk. Gay s 
 loquacity oozed away. He was content to feel her 
 breathing against his side. 
 
 There were telephone conversations often after that, 
 then occasional lunches down-town, when Fancy, al 
 ways modishly dressed, drew many an eye to her well- 
 rounded, well-filled Eton jacket, her smart red hat, 
 her fresh white gloves and her high-heeled shoes. Gay 
 was proud of her, and he showed her off to his friends 
 without caution. Fancy was nothing loath. Occa 
 sionally they went to the theater, dining previously 
 in style at some popular restaurant, where Gay hoped 
 
134 THE HEART LINE 
 
 thought so. She s going to try and make him jeal 
 ous! What do you think of that?" 
 
 "Why, she s changed places with him; what s that 
 for?" To Gay, the drama was as mysterious as a 
 Chinese play. 
 
 "Just to get him crazy, of course! That other 
 fellow thinks she s really after him, too. The other 
 girl sees through the whole game, of course. My, but 
 men are easy ! Those two fellows are certainly being 
 worked good and plenty. Just look at the way she s 
 freezing up to that bald-headed chap now. Well, I 
 never! If that other girl isn t trying to get you on 
 the string. Smile at her, Gay, and see what she ll do." 
 
 "Never mind about her!" said Gay, secretly pleased 
 at the tribute. "You girls can always see a whole 
 lot more than what really happens. She s just changed 
 places on account of the draught, probably. She is 
 lamping me, though, isn t she? Say, she s a peach, 
 all right !" 
 
 "Yes, she s sure pretty. Say, Gay " 
 
 "What?" His eye returned fondly to her. 
 
 "Do you think I m as pretty as she is?" 
 
 "Oh, you make me tired, Fancy. Gee! You ve got 
 her sewed up in a sack for looks!" 
 
 So Fancy played her game cleverly, keeping Gay, 
 but keeping him off at arm s length. But as time went 
 on, his ardor grew and she was often at her wits end 
 to handle him. Though free from any conventional 
 restraints, she did not yet consider her lips Mr. Sum 
 mer s property, though she permitted him a cool and 
 lifeless hand upon occasion. In time, the excitable 
 youth began to understand her reserve; but instead 
 of dampening his enthusiasm, it aroused his zest for the 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 135 
 
 chase. She was not so easy game as he had thought. 
 He waxed sentimental, therefore, and plied her with 
 equivocal monologues, hinting, in the attempt to make 
 sure of his way. At this, her sense of humor broke 
 forth, effervescing in lively ridicule. This brought Mr. 
 Summer, at last, to the point of an out-and-out pro 
 posal. Fancy, experienced in such situations, warned 
 in time by his preludes, did not take it too seriously. 
 
 "I am sorry to say you draw a blank, Gay," she 
 informed him lightly. "I m not in the market yet. 
 Many a man has expected me to become domesticated 
 at sight, and settle down in content over the cook- 
 stove. But I haven t even a past yet nothing but a 
 rather tame present and hope for a future. I don t 
 seem to see you in it, Gay. In fact, there s nobody 
 visible to the naked eye at present." 
 
 "Well," he said, "I ll cut it out for now, as long 
 as I can t make good, but sometime you ll come to me 
 and beg me to marry you, see if you don t. Whenever 
 you get ready, I ll be right there with the goods." 
 
 Fancy laughed and the episode was closed. 
 
 "Say, Fancy, there s a gang of artist chaps and 
 literary guys I d like to put you up against," Gay said 
 one afternoon. "I think you d make a hit with the 
 bunch, if you can stand a little jollying." 
 
 "You watch me!" Fancy became enthusiastically 
 interested. "Where do they hang out?" 
 
 "They eat at a joint down on Montgomery Street. 
 They re heavy joshers, though. They re too clever 
 for me, mostly. It s the real-thing Bohemia down 
 there, though." 
 
 "Why didn t you tell me about it before?" she 
 
136 THE HEART LINE 
 
 pouted. "I m game ! Let s float in there to-night and 
 see the animals feed." 
 
 So they went down to the Latin Quarter together. 
 
 Bohemia has been variously described. Since Henri 
 Murger s time, the definition has changed retrogres- 
 sively, until now, what is commonly called Bohemia 
 is a place where one is told, "This is Liberty Hall !" 
 and one is forced to drink beer whether one likes it 
 or not, where not to like spaghetti is a crime. Not 
 such was the little coterie of artists, writers and 
 amateurs, who dined together every night at Fulda s 
 restaurant. 
 
 \ In San Francisco is recruited a perennial crop of 
 such petty soldiers of fortune. Here art receives 
 scant recompense, and as soon as one gets one s head 
 above water and begins to be recognized, existence is 
 unendurable in a place where genius has no field for 
 action. The artist, the writer or the musician must fly 
 East to the great market-place, New York, or to the 
 great forcing-bed, Paris, to bloom or fade, to live 
 or die in competition with others in his field. 
 
 So the little artistic colonies shrink with defections 
 or increase with the accession of hitherto unknown 
 aspirants. Many go and never return. A few come 
 back to breathe again the stimulating air of California, 
 to see with new eyes its fresh, vivid color, its poetry, 
 its romance. To have gone East and to have returned 
 without abject failure is here, in the eyes of the 
 vulgar, Art s patent of nobility. Of those who have 
 been content to linger peaceably in the land of the 
 lotus, some are earls without coronets, but one and 
 all share a fierce, hot, passionate love of the soil. 
 San Francisco has become a fetish, a cult. Under 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 137 
 
 its blue skies and driving fogs is bred the most 
 ardent loyalty in these United States. San Francisco 
 is most magnificently herself of any American city, 
 and San Franciscans, in consequence, are themselves 
 with an abounding perfervid sincerity. Faults they 
 have, lurid, pungent, staccato, but hypocrisy is not 
 of them. That vice is never necessary. 
 
 The party that gathered nightly at Fulda s was as 
 remote from the world as if it had been ensconced on a 
 desert island. It was unconscious, unaffected, suffi 
 cient to itself. Men and girls had come and gone 
 since it had formed, but the nucleal circle was always 
 complete. Death and desertions were unacknowledged 
 else the gloom would have shut down and the 
 wine, the red wine of the country, would have 
 tasted salt with tears. There had been tragedies and 
 comedies played out in that group, there were names 
 spoken in whispers sometimes, there were silent toasts 
 drunk; but if sentiment was there, it was disguised 
 as folly. Life still thrilled in song. Youth was not 
 yet dead. Art was long and exigent. 
 
 It was their custom, after dinner, to adjourn to 
 Champoreau s for cafe noir, served in the French 
 style. In this large, bare saloon, with sanded floor, 
 with its bar and billiard table, foreign as France, al 
 most always deserted at this hour save by their com 
 pany, the genial patron smiled at their gaiety, as he 
 prepared the long glasses of coffee. To-night, there 
 were six at the round table. 
 
 Maxim, an artist unhailed as yet from the East, was, 
 of all, the most obviously picturesque, with a fierce 
 mustached face and a shock of black hair springing 
 in a wild mass from his head to draggle in stringy 
 
138 THE HEART LINE 
 
 locks below his eyes, or, with a sudden leonine shake, 
 to be thrown back when he bellowed forth in song. 
 He had been in Paris and knew the airs and argot of 
 the most desperate studies. His laughter was like the 
 roar of a convivial lion. 
 
 Dougal, with a dog-like face and tow hair, so 
 ugly as to be refreshing, full of common sense and 
 kindness, with a huge mouth full of little cramped 
 teeth and a smile that drew and compelled and cap 
 tured like a charm he sat next. Good nature and 
 loyalty dwelt in his narrow blue eyes. His slow, 
 labored speech was seldom smothered, even in the wit 
 that enveloped it 
 
 Most masculine and imperative of all, was Benton, 
 with his blur of blue-black hair, fine tangled threads, 
 his melting, deep blue eyes, shadowy with fatigue, 
 lighted with vagrant dreams or shot with brisk fires 
 of passion. His hands were strong and he had an air 
 of suppressed power. 
 
 The fourth man was Philip Starr, a poet not long 
 for San Francisco, seeing that the Athanaeum had al 
 ready placed the laurels upon his brow he was as far 
 from the conventional type of poet as is possible. 
 He had a lean, eager, sharply cut face, shrewd, quick 
 eye and sinewy, long fingers. His hair was close 
 cropped, his mouth was tight and narrow. Electricity 
 seemed to dart from him as from a dynamo. Just now 
 he was teaching the company a new song an old 
 one, rather, for it was an ancient Anglo-Saxon drink 
 ing-song, whose uproarious refrain was well fitted 
 to the temper of the assembly. 
 
 At one end of the table sat a young woman, petite, 
 elf-like as a little girl, a brown, cunning, soft-haired 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 139 
 
 creature, smiling, smiling, smiling, with eyes half 
 closed, wrinkled in quiet mirth. This was Elsie 
 Dougal. 
 
 Opposite her was a girl of twenty-seven, with 
 a handsome, clear-cut, classic face, lighted with gray 
 eyes, limpid and straightforward, making her seem 
 the most ingenuous of all. Mabel s hair curled unman 
 ageably, springy and dark. Her face was serious and 
 intent till her smile broke and a little self-conscious 
 laugh escaped. 
 
 Starr pounded with one fist upon the table, his 
 thumb held stiffly upright: 
 
 "Dance, Thumbakin, dance!" 
 
 he sang, and the chorus was repeated. Then with the 
 heel of his palm and his fingers outstretched, pounding 
 merrily in time: 
 
 "Oh, dance ye merrymen, every one," 
 then with his fist as before: 
 
 "For Thumbakin, he can dance alone I" 
 
 and, raising his fists high over his head, coming down 
 with a bang: 
 
 "For 
 "Thumbakin he can dance alone !" 
 
 They went through the song together, dancing 
 Foreman, Middleman, and Littleman, ending in a 
 pianissimo. Then over and over they sang that queer, 
 ancient tune, till all knew it by heart. 
 
I 4 o THE HEART LINE 
 
 Benton pulled his manuscript from his pocket and 
 read it confidentially to Elsie, who smiled and smiled. 
 Starr recited his last poem while Dougal made humor 
 ous comments. Maxim broke out into a French 
 student s chanson, so wildly improper that it took two 
 men to suppress him. Mabel giggled hysterically and 
 began a long, dull story which, despite interruptions, 
 ended so brilliantly and so unexpectedly, that every 
 one wished he had listened. 
 
 Then Dougal called out : 
 
 "The cavalry charge ! Ready ! One finger !" 
 
 They tapped in unison, not too fast, each with a 
 forefinger upon the table. 
 
 "Two fingers!" 
 
 The sound increased in volume. 
 
 "Three fingers, four fingers, five !" 
 
 The crescendo rose. 
 
 "Two hands ! One foot ! BOTH FEET !" 
 
 There was a hurricane of galloping fists and soles. 
 Then, in diminuendo: 
 
 "One foot! One hand! Four fingers, three, two, 
 one! Halt!" 
 
 The clatter grew softer and softer till at last all 
 was still. 
 
 As Gay opened the door, Fancy heard a roar that 
 increased steadily until it became a wild hullabaloo. 
 Looking in, she saw the six seated about the table, 
 the coffee glasses jumping madly with the percussion. 
 The noise was like the multitudinous charge of troop 
 ers. Then the tumult died slowly away, the patter 
 grew softer and softer, ending in a sudden hush as 
 seven faces looked up at her. Gay P. Summer s 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 141 
 
 advent was greeted with frowns, but Fancy gathered 
 an instant acclaim from twelve critical eyes. 
 
 She stepped boldly into the room and shed the ra 
 diance of her smile upon the company. 
 
 "I guess this is where I live, all right!" she an 
 nounced. "I ve been gone a long time, haven t I?, 
 Never mind the introductions. I m Fancy Gray, 
 drifter; welcome to our fair city!" 
 
 They let loose a cry of welcome, and Dougal, rising, 
 opened a place for her between his chair and Maxim s. 
 
 "I m for her !" He hailed her with a good-natured 
 grin. "She s the right shape. Come and have coffee !" 
 
 "I accept!" said Fancy Gray. 
 
 Gay s reception was by no means as cordial as hers, 
 which had been immediate and spontaneous at the 
 sound of her caressing, jovial voice and the sight of 
 her genial smile, which seemed to embrace each 
 separate member of the party. They made grudging 
 room for him beside Elsie, who gave him a cold little 
 hand. Mabel bowed politely. 
 
 "Where d you get her, Gay?" said Starr. "You re 
 improving. She looks like a pretty good imitation of 
 the real thing." 
 
 "Oh, I ll wash, all right," said Fancy. 
 
 Gay P. proudly introduced her to the company. 
 He played her as he might play a trump to win the 
 seventh trick. Indeed, without Fancy s aid, he would 
 have received scant welcome at that exclusive board. 
 Many and loud were the jests at Summer s expense 
 while he was away. Many and soft were the jests 
 he had not wit enough to understand when he was 
 present. Philip Starr had, at first sight of him, dubbed 
 him "The Scroyle," and this sobriquet stuck. Gay P. 
 
I 4 2 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Summer was ill versed in Elizabethan lore, but, had his 
 wit been greater, his conceit would still have protected 
 him. 
 
 He had already unloaded Fancy, though he was as 
 yet unaware of it. She was taken up with enthusiasm 
 by the men, whom she drew like a magnet. Mabel 
 and Elsie watched her with the keenness of women 
 who are jealous of any new element in their group. It 
 was, perhaps, not so much rivalry they feared, for 
 their place was too well established, as the admittance 
 into that circle of one who would betray a tendency 
 toward those petty feline amenities that only women 
 can perceive and resent. 
 
 But Fancy Gray showed no such symptoms. She 
 did not bid for the men s attention. She made a 
 point of talking to Elsie, and she managed clev 
 erly to include Mabel in the attention she received. 
 Fancy, in her turn, scrutinized the two girls artfully 
 and made her own instantaneous deductions. All of 
 this by-play was, of course, quite lost upon the men. 
 
 The talk sprang into new life and Fancy s eye ran 
 from one to another member of the group, dwelling 
 longest upon Dougal. His ugliness seemed to fas 
 cinate her; and, as is often the case with ugly men, 
 he inspired her instant confidence. She made up to 
 him without embarrassment or concealment, taking his 
 hairy hand and caressing it openly. At this, Elsie s 
 eyelids half closed, but there was no sign of jealousy. 
 Mabel noticed the act, too, and her manner suddenly 
 became warmer toward the girl. By these two fem 
 inine reactions, Fancy saw that she had done well. 
 
 They sang, they pounded the table; and, as an 
 initiation, every man saluted Fancy s cheek. She 
 
f RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 143 
 
 took it like an empress. Then, suddenly, Dougal held 
 up two fingers. Every one s eyes were turned upon 
 him. 
 
 "Piedra Pinta?" he cried, with a side glance at 
 Fancy. 
 
 Every one voted. Mabel held up both her hands 
 gleefully. 
 
 So was Fancy Gray, though she was not aware of 
 the honor till afterward, admitted to the full comrade 
 ship of the Pintos. It was a victory. Many had, with 
 the same ignorance as to what was happening, suf 
 fered an ignominious defeat. Fancy s election was 
 unanimous. 
 
 And for this once, in gratitude for his discovery, 
 Mr. Gay P. Summer, The Scroyle, was suffered to 
 inflict himself upon the coterie of the Pintos. 
 
 There were other honors in store for Fancy Gray. 
 
 Piedra Pinta is two hours journey from San Fran 
 cisco to the north, in Marin County a land of 
 mountains, virgin redwood forests and trout-filled 
 streams. One takes the ferry to Sausalito, crossing 
 the northern bay, and rides for an hour or so up a 
 little narrow-gage squirming railroad into the canyon 
 of Paper Mill Creek; and, if one has discovered and 
 appropriated the place, it is a mile walk up the track 
 and a drop from the embankment down a gravelly, 
 overgrown slope, into the camp-ground. Here a great 
 crag rears its vertically split face, hidden in beeches 
 and bay trees. At its foot a flattened fragment has 
 fallen forward to do service as a fireplace. Beyond, 
 there are more boulders in the stream, which here 
 widens and deepens, overhung by clustering trees, 
 
144 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Save when an occasional train rushes past overhead, 
 or a fisherman comes by, wading up-stream, the place 
 is secret and silent. Opposite, across the brook, an 
 oat-field slopes upward to the country road and the 
 smooth drumlins beyond. A not too noisy crowd can 
 here lie hugger-mugger, hidden from the world. 
 
 To Piedra Pinta that next Saturday they came, 
 bringing Fancy Gray, a smiling captive, with them. 
 The men bore blankets and books; the women food 
 and dishes enough for a picnic meal. They came 
 singing, romping up the track, big Benton first with 
 the heaviest load. In corduroys and jeans, in boots and 
 flannel shirts they came. Little Elsie, like a girl 
 scout, wore a rakish slouch hat trimmed with live 
 carnations, a short skirt, leggings, a sheath knife 
 swinging from her belt. Mabel had her own pearl- 
 handled revolver. The rest looked like gipsies. 
 
 They slid down the bank and debouched with a shout 
 into the little glade. Fancy entered with vim into 
 the celebration. Not that she did any useful work, 
 that was not her field ; she was there chiefly as a decora 
 tion and an inspiration. She had dressed herself in 
 khaki. Her boots were laced high, her sombrero 
 permitted a shower of tinted tendrils to escape and 
 wanton about her forehead. She found fragrant 
 sprays of yerba buena and wreathed them about her 
 neck. 
 
 It was all new and strange to her, all delightful. 
 She had seen the artificial side of the town and knew 
 the best and worst of its gaiety; but here, in the 
 open for almost the first time, she breathed deeply of 
 the primal joys of nature and was refreshed. Her 
 curiosity was unlimited; she played with earth and 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 145 
 
 water, fire and air. She unbuttoned the collar of her 
 shirt-waist and turned it in, disclosing a delicious pink 
 hollow at her throat. She rolled up her sleeves, dis 
 playing the dimples in her elbows. At the prepara 
 tions for the dinner she was an eager spectator, and 
 when the meal was served, smoked and sandy, and the 
 bottles were opened, all traces of the fairy in her dis 
 appeared ; she was simple girl. She ate like a cannibal 
 and ate with glee. 
 
 The shadows fell. The nook became dusky, odorous, 
 moist; the rivulet rippled pleasantly, the ferns moved 
 lazily in the night airs. The moon arose and gave 
 a mysterious argent illumination. The going and 
 coming ceased, the shouting and lusty singing grew 
 still. The blankets were opened and spread at the 
 foot of the rock. Dougal and Elsie took their places 
 in the center and, the men on one side and the girls 
 on the other, they lay upon the ground and wrapped 
 themselves against the cooling air. The fire was re 
 plenished and its glare lighted up the trees in planes 
 of foliage, like painted sheets of scenery. 
 
 They lay down, but not to sleep. Dougal s coffee, 
 black and strong, stimulated their brains. The talk 
 ran on with an accompaniment of song and jest. One 
 after another sprang up to sing some old-time tune 
 or to recite a familiar, well-beloved poem ; the 
 dialogue jumped from one to the other. Some dozed 
 and woke again at a chorus of laughter; some sat 
 wide-eyed, staring into the fire, into the darkness, or 
 into one another s eyes. 
 
 Maxim was prodigious. He blared forth rollicking 
 airs, he did scenes from La Boheme, posturing pic 
 turesquely against the flame, his long black locks 
 
140 THE HEART LINE 
 
 sweeping his face. Starr improvised while they 
 listened, rapt. Benton climbed high into a beech tree 
 and there, invisible, he recited Cynara and quoted 
 The Song of the Sword, while Dougal jeered and 
 fed the blaze. Mabel listened entranced and appre 
 ciative, and ventured occasionally on one more long, 
 dull story her tale always growing melodramatically 
 exciting, as the attention of her listeners wandered. 
 Elsie sat and smiled and smiled, wide awake till three. 
 
 Forgotten tales, snatches of song, jokes and verses 
 surged into Fancy s head and one after another she 
 shot them into the night. She, too, arose and sang, 
 dancing. Not since her vaudeville days had she at 
 tempted it, but mounting to the spirit of the occasion, 
 she thrilled and fascinated them with her drollery. 
 
 She and Dougal were the last ones awake. They 
 spoke now in undertones. Maxim was snoring hid 
 eously, so was Benton. Starr lay with his mouth 
 open, Mabel was curled into a cocoon of blankets, 
 flushed Elsie was still smiling in her sleep. 
 
 At four the dawn appeared. They watched it 
 spellbound, and as it turned from a glowing rose to 
 straw color, the birds began to twitter in the boughs. 
 Fancy shook off her lassitude. 
 
 "I m going in swimming," she exclaimed, starting 
 up. "Stay here, Dougal I trust to your honor !" 
 
 "I ll not promise," he replied. "One doesn t often 
 have a chance to see a nymph bathing in a fountain 
 nowadays, but I have the artist s eye ; it will only be 
 for beauty s sake go ahead !" He kept his place, 
 nevertheless; the pool was invisible from the level of 
 the camp-ground. 
 
 Fancy darted down the path to the wash of pebbles 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 147 
 
 below. Dougal shook Elsie into a dazed wakefulness. 
 Mabel s eyes opened sleepily. 
 
 "Fancy s gone in swimming," he whispered. "Don t 
 wake up the boys." 
 
 Like shadows the two girls slid after her. Dougal 
 lay down to sleep. 
 
 In half an hour he was awakened by their return, 
 fresh, rosy, dewy and jubilant. Elsie crawled to his 
 side under the blankets; Fancy and Mabel scrambled 
 up the bank to greet the sun, chattering like sparrows. 
 Maxim rolled over in his sleep. Benton and Starr, 
 back to back, dreamed on. The sun rose higher and 
 smote the languid group with a shaft of light. The 
 men rose at last, and, dismissing Elsie from the camp, 
 took their turns in the pool. At seven Dougal an 
 nounced breakfast. 
 
 At high noon, after a climb up the hill and an hour 
 of poetry, Fancy was crowned queen of Piedra Pinta, 
 with pomp and circumstance. She was invested with 
 a crown of bay leaves and, for a scepter, the camp 
 poker was placed in her hand. Dougal, as her prime 
 minister, waxed merry, while her loyal lieges passed 
 before her to do her homage. She greeted them one by 
 one: The Duke of Russian Hill, with his tribute of 
 three square meals per week; Lord of the Barbary 
 Coast; Elsie, Lady of Lime Point, Mistress of the 
 Robes; Sir Maxim the Monster, Court Painter; Sir 
 Starr of Tar Flat, Laureate; and Mabel the Fair, 
 Marchioness of Mount Tamalpais, First Lady of the 
 Bedchamber, to keep her warm. 
 
 She issued many titles after that, as her domain in 
 creased, and as "Fancy I," she always styled herself 
 
148 THE HEART LINE 
 
 in signing her letters. Her royal edicts were not often 
 slighted. 
 
 For she was gay and young, and she was bold and 
 free. Life had scarcely touched her yet with care. 
 This was her apotheosis. The scene went down in the 
 annals of the Pintos and the tradition spread. Her 
 reign was famous. Her accolade was a smile. Her 
 homage was paid in kisses and in tears. 
 
 Yet Fancy Gray was not a girl to commit herself 
 to any one particular set. Her tastes were eclectic. 
 She was essentially adventurous. It was her boast 
 that she never made a promise and never broke one 
 that she never explained that she liked everybody, 
 and nobody. She guarded her independence jealously, 
 restless at every restraint. With the friend of the 
 moment she was everything. When he passed out of 
 sight, she devoted an equal attention to the next comer, 
 and she was faithful to both. 
 
 She was often seen with Granthope dining or at 
 the theater. Mabel and Elsie whispered together, 
 adding glances to smiles, and frowns to blushes, sum 
 ming them up according to the feminine rules of 
 psychological arithmetic. The men did not even won 
 der it was none of their business, and was she not 
 Fancy Gray? When they were seen together, they 
 were conspicuously picturesque. Granthope had an 
 air, Fancy had a manner, the two harmonized per 
 fectly. 
 
 Mr. Gay P. Summer, meanwhile, had by no means 
 given up the chase. He was not one to be easily 
 snubbed, and the only effect of the slight put upon 
 him by the Pintos was to make him seek after Fancy 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 149 
 
 still more energetically, and while he paid court to her, 
 to keep her away from the attractions of that engaging 
 set. Fancy accepted his attentions with condescension. 
 After all, a dinner was a dinner her own way of 
 putting it was that she always hated to refuse "free 
 eggs." 
 
 He still tried his best to draw her out, but when 
 he asked her about Granthope, she gave a passionate, 
 indignant refutation of his innuendoes. 
 
 "I owe that man everything, everything!" she ex 
 claimed. "He took me when I was walking the 
 streets, hungry, without a cent, and he has been good 
 to me ever since! He s all right! And any one who 
 says anything against him is crossed off my list !" 
 
 This was at Zinkand s. The slur had been occa 
 sioned by the sight of Granthope at table with a lady 
 whom Gay knew rather too much about. It happened 
 that there was another group in the room that drew 
 Fancy s roving eye and nimble comment. She asked 
 about the man with the pointed beard. 
 
 "Oh, that s Blanchard Cayley everybody knows 
 him/ Gay explained. "He s a rounder. I see him 
 (everywhere. No, I don t know him to speak to, but 
 they say he s a clever chap. I wonder who that is with 
 him, though? I ve seen her before, somewhere." 
 
 "I know," said Fancy; "that s Mrs. Page." 
 
 "H m! Funny, every time I see her she s with a 
 different man. She s pretty gay, that woman." 
 
 "Is she? You re a cad to tell of it." 
 
 "Why? Do you know her?" 
 
 She scorned to answer. 
 
 On a Sunday night soon after, Gay invited her to 
 dinner at Carminetti s. She accepted, never having 
 
150 THE HEART LINE 
 
 gone to the place, which was then in the height of 
 its prestige, a resort for the most uproarious spirits 
 of the town. 
 
 It was down near the harbor front, a region of 
 warehouses, factories, freight tracks and desecrated, 
 melancholy buildings, disheveled and squalid, that 
 Mr. Summer took her. He pushed open the door to 
 let upon her a wave of light frivolity and the mingled 
 odor of Italian oil and wine permeated by an under 
 current of fried food. The tables were all filled, some 
 with six or eight diners at one board, and by the coun 
 ter or bar, which ran all along one side of the room, 
 there were at least a dozen persons waiting for seats. 
 Gay walked up to bald-headed "Dave," the patron, 
 who in his shirt-sleeves was superintending the con 
 fusion, keeping an eye ready for rising disorder. 
 After a quick colloquy, he beckoned to Fancy, who 
 followed him down between the gay groups to a 
 table in a corner. It was just being deserted by a 
 short young hoodlum, with a pink and green striped 
 sweater, accompanied by a girl several inches too tall 
 for him, dressed in a soiled buff raglan and a triumphal 
 hat. 
 
 "Here we are," said Gay; "we re in luck to get a 
 table at all, to-night. But I gave Dave a four-bit piece 
 and that fixed it." 
 
 Fancy sat down and looked about. "It is pretty 
 gay, isn t it? It looks as if it were going to be fun." 
 
 "Oh, you wait till nine o clock," Gay boasted wisely. 
 "They re not warmed up to it yet. The Dago Red 
 hasn t got in its work. There ll be something doing, 
 after a while." 
 
 The walls were decorated with beer- and wine-signs 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 151 
 
 in frames, and on either side of the huge mirror hung 
 lithographic portraits of Humberto and the Queen of 
 Italy. Opposite, a row of windows looking on the 
 street was hung with half-curtains of a harsh, dis 
 agreeable blue; over them peeped, now and again, 
 wayfarers or others who had dined too well, rapping 
 on the glass and gesticulating to those inside. All 
 about the sides of the room and upon every column, 
 hats, coats and cloaks were hung, making the place 
 seem like an old-clothes shop. The floor was covered 
 with sawdust and the tables were huddled closely 
 together. 
 
 For the most part the diners were all young 
 mechanics, clerks, factory girls and the like 
 though here and there, watching the sport, were 
 up-town parties, reveling in an unconventional 
 air. The groups, now well on in their dinner, had 
 begun to fraternize. Here a young man raised his 
 wine-glass to a pretty girl across the room and the 
 two drank together, smiling, or calling out some easy 
 witticism. In one corner, a party of eight was singing 
 jovially something about: "One day to him a letter 
 there did come," and anon, encouraged by the applause 
 and the freedom, a lad of nineteen, devoid of collar, 
 closed his eyes, leaned back and sang a long song 
 through in a vibrant, harsh voice. He was greeted 
 with applause, hands clapped, feet pounded and 
 knives clattered on bottles till the patron hurried from 
 table to table quelling the pandemonium. Waiters 
 came and went in bustling fervor, dodging between one 
 table and another, jostling and spilling soup ; at inter 
 vals a great danging bell rang and the apparition of a 
 soiled white cook appeared at the kitchen door ordering 
 
152 THE HEART LINE 
 
 the waiters to: "Take it away!" The kitchen was an 
 arcade into which from time to time guests wandered, 
 to joke with the cook and beat upon the huge im 
 maculate copper kettles on the wall. 
 
 The conversation at times became almost general, 
 the party of songsters in the corner leading in the 
 exchange of persiflage. Two girls dining alone, with 
 hard, tired-looking eyes and cheap jewelry, began a 
 duet; instantly, from a company of young men, two 
 detached themselves, plates and glasses in hand, and 
 went over to join them. A roar went up; glasses 
 rang again and Dave fluttered about in protest at the 
 noise. 
 
 Fancy talked little. The crowd, the lights, the 
 camaraderie hypnotized her. She watched first one 
 and then another group, picking out, for Gay s edifica 
 tion, the prettiest girl and the handsomest man in the 
 room. She waved her hand slyly at the collarless 
 soloist and applauded two darkies who came in from 
 outside to make a hideous clamor with banjos. As 
 she waited to be served, she nibbled at the dry French 
 bread and drank of the sour claret, watching over 
 the top of her glass, losing nothing. 
 
 In the middle of the room, Blanchard Cayley sat 
 with three ladies. One of them Fancy recognized as 
 Miss Payson. Fancy s eyebrows rose slightly at 
 seeing her, and a smile and a nod were cordially ex 
 changed. The others Fancy did not know. They 
 were both pretty women, well-dressed, with evident 
 signs of breeding, and, as the lun waxed freer, ap 
 parently not a little embarrassed at being seen in 
 such a place. Miss Payson showed no such feeling in 
 her demeanor, however much she may have been 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 153 
 
 amused or surprised at the spirit of the place. Blanch- 
 ard Cayley divided his attentions equitably amongst 
 them, till, looking across the room, he caught Fancy s 
 errant glance. He smiled at her openly as if challeng 
 ing her roguery. 
 
 She boldly returned the greeting. Gay caught the 
 glance that was exchanged. 
 
 "See here, Fancy/ he protested, "none of that now ! 
 He s got all he can do to attend to his own table. 
 I ll attend to this one, myself." 
 
 Now, this was scarcely the way to treat a girl like 
 Fancy Gray. At her first opportunity, she sent an 
 other smile in Cayley s direction. It was divided, this 
 time, by members of his own party and the women 
 began to buzz together. Gay was annoyed. 
 
 "There s something I like about that man," Fancy 
 remarked presently. "What d you say his name was? 
 That s the one we saw at Zinkand s, wasn t it?" 
 
 "There s something I don t like about him. He d 
 better mind his own business," Gay growled, now 
 thoroughly provoked. 
 
 "You can t blame any one for noticing me, caff 
 you, Gay?" Her tone was honey-sweet. 
 
 "I can blame you for flirting across the room when 
 you re here with me !" he replied fiercely. 
 
 Fancy opened her eyes very wide. "Indeed?" she 
 said with a sarcastic emphasis. 
 
 "That s right," he affirmed. 
 
 In answer, she cast another languishing glance to 
 ward Cayley. Cayley, despite Clytie s entreating hand 
 upon his arm, sent back an unequivocal reply. 
 
 "Well," said Gay, rising sullenly, "I guess it s up 
 to me to leave !" He reached for his hat. 
 
154 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, Gay!" she protested in alarm, "you re not 
 going to throw me down before this whole crowd, are 
 you ?" Already their colloquy had attracted the atten 
 tion of the near-by tables. 
 
 He hesitated a moment. "Unless you behave your 
 self," he said finally. His tone of ownership decided 
 her. 
 
 "Run along, then !" She gave him a smile of limpid 
 simplicity, but her jaws were set determinedly. "I 
 expect I can get some one to take care of me. Don t 
 mind me!" 
 
 Their discussion had not been unnoticed at Mr. 
 Cayley s table. Clytie was watching the pair inter 
 estedly, as if reading the motions of their lips. Fancy 
 caught her eye and flushed a little. 
 
 Gay s brows gathered together in a sullen look as 
 he crowded his hat upon his head savagely. He 
 turned with a last retort : 
 
 "You ll be sorry you threw me down, Fancy Gray! 
 You want too many men on the string at once !" 
 
 He turned and left her, passing sulkily along the 
 passages between the tables with his hat on his head, 
 till he came to the cashier, where he paid the bill for 
 two dinners with lordly chivalry. Then, without look 
 ing back, he opened the door of the restaurant and 
 went out. 
 
 An instant after, Fancy was on her feet. Gay s 
 going had already made her conspicuous and her flush 
 grew deeper. Cayley watched her without smiling, 
 now, waiting to see what she would do. Beside him, 
 Qytie Payson sat watching, her lips slightly parted, 
 her nostrils dilated, absorbed, seeming to understand 
 the situation perfectly, her eyes gazing at Fancy as if 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 155 
 
 to convey her sympathy. Fancy looked and saw her 
 there, and the sight steadied her. With all her cus 
 tomary nonchalance, with all that jovial, compelling 
 air of optimism which she usually radiated, as if she 
 were quite sure of her reception and came as an ex 
 pected guest, she sauntered carelessly over to the 
 central table. 
 
 Her smile was dazzling as it swept about the board, 
 meeting the eyes of each of the women in turn. One 
 by one it subjugated them. They even returned it 
 with trepidation, not too embarrassed to be keenly ex 
 pectant, waiting for the outcome. But it was for Clytie 
 that Fancy Gray reserved her warmest, deepest look. 
 In that glance she threw herself upon Miss Payson s 
 mercy, and appealed to the innate chivalry of woman 
 to woman, to the bond of sex a sentiment in finer 
 women more potent than jealousy. 
 
 Even before she spoke Clytie had arisen and 
 stretched out her hand. In a flash she had accepted 
 what had run counter to all her experience, and played 
 up to Fancy s audacity with a spirit that ignored the 
 crowd, the eyes, the whispers. 
 
 Who, indeed, could resist Fancy Gray in such a 
 fantastic, tiptoe mood? Her act, audacious, even im 
 pertinent, was so delicately achieved, she was so sure 
 of herself and her own charm that it was dramatic, 
 poetic in its confidence, picturesque. But no one could 
 have equalled Clytie as she arose to meet such bravado, 
 when she shook off her reserves and took her hand 
 at such a psychological game. Not even Fancy Gray, 
 with all her superb poise. On Fancy s cheek the color 
 deepened it was she who blushed so furiously, now, 
 not Qytie. In that flush she confessed herself beaten 
 at her own game. 
 
156 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "How do you do ?" Clytie was saying. "We ve been 
 wishing all the evening that we could have you with 
 us. Do sit down, here, beside me we ll make room 
 for you. I want you to meet Miss Gray, Mrs. Max 
 well." 
 
 Something in the graciousness of her manner drew 
 the other women up to her chivalrous level. Mrs. 
 Maxwell bowed, smiled, too, with a word of welcome, 
 so did Miss Dean as she was introduced. Fancy 
 beamed. Meanwhile Cayley had arisen. He was 
 the most perturbed of all. He offered his chair. 
 
 "You see what you ve done, Mr. Cayley," said 
 Fancy. "I ve just been jilted for the first time in my 
 life, and it was all your fault. I m afraid I shall have 
 to butt in and ask you to protect me !" 
 
 It was not Fancy but Clytie who had, apparently, 
 most surprised him. He gave a questioning look at 
 her as he replied, not a little confused : 
 
 "Won t you sit down here in my place? There s 
 plenty of room. I ll get another chair or," he stole 
 another glance at Clytie, "I ll let you have half of 
 mine !" 
 
 "I accept !" said Fancy Gray. 
 
 Clytie smiled encouragingly. "I ll divide mine with 
 you, too, if you like." 
 
 "You re a gentleman ! I d much rather sit with you, 
 Miss Payson ; thank you !" Then she looked at Clytie 
 fondly. "I thought I was right about you! You are 
 a thoroughbred, aren t you?" 
 
 "We re educating Mr. Cayley, my dear." Clytie 
 gave him a bright smile. "He has a few things yet 
 to learn about women." 
 
 "I plead guilty," said Cayley, watching the two 
 with curiosity. 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 157 
 
 "Miss Gray and I are disciples of the same school. 
 She gave me the password." Clytie was fairly superb 
 . she even outshone Fancy she was regal. 
 
 Fancy laughed. "You re the only one who knows it, 
 that I ever met, though." 
 
 "Ah," said Clytie, "then that s the only way I can 
 beat you I believe many women are initiated." 
 
 Fancy clapped her hands softly in pantomime. Then 
 she turned to Mrs. Maxwell and the others. "I hope 
 I m not out of the frying-pan into the fire," she said. 
 "Please let me down easy, ladies. If you don t make 
 me feel at home pretty quick, I ll be up against it! 
 You don t really have to know me, you know. Only 
 it looked to me like when he had three such pretty 
 women to take care of one more ought to be easy 
 enough." 
 
 "We were three pretty women before, perhaps, my 
 dear, but now I m afraid we re only one !" said Clytie. 
 She herself, kindled with the spirit of adventure, and 
 so adequately welcoming it, was irresistible. 
 
 Fancy blew a pretty kiss at her. "No man would 
 know enough to say anything as nice as that, would 
 he? But I m afraid I can t trot in your class, Miss 
 Payson. Why, every man in the room has been 
 watching you all the evening. I really ought to sit 
 beside Mrs. Maxwell, though, to show her off. It 
 takes these brunettes to make me look outclassed, 
 doesn t it? I used to be a brunette myself, but I 
 reformed. Mr. Cayley, you may hold me on, if you 
 like. And remember, when I kick you under the table 
 it s a hint for you to say something about my hands." 
 She laid them on the table-cloth ingenuously. 
 
 Clytie took one up and showed it to Mrs. Maxwell. 
 
158 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Did you ever see a prettier wrist than that?" she 
 said. 
 
 "It s charming! I m afraid she d never be able to 
 wear my gloves." 
 
 Fancy smiled good-temperedly. "That second fin 
 ger is supposed to be perfect," she said, looking at it 
 reflectively. 
 
 "It s queer that the fourth one hasn t a diamond 
 on it," Mrs. Maxwell suggested amiably. 
 
 "It s only because I hate to fry my own eggs. I 
 never could learn to play on the cook-stove." 
 
 "My dear, you ll never have to do that," said Clytie. 
 "No man would be brute enough to endanger such a 
 complexion as you have !" 
 
 Fancy rubbed her cheek. "Good enough to raise a 
 blush on. Has it worn off yet? I wish you could 
 make me do it again; I d rather wear a good No. 5 
 blush than a silk-lined skirt." 
 
 The third lady at the table was thin and dark, a 
 piquante, sharp-featured girl, with a dancing devil in 
 her eyes. She had been watching Fancy with an 
 amused smile. "I thought I d seen you before," she 
 said. "Now I remember. You re the young lady at 
 Granthope s, aren t you?" 
 
 "Yes, that s my tag. I suppose I am entered for a 
 regular blue-ribbon freak. But I ve seen you, too, 
 Miss Dean, once or twice, haven t I ?" 
 
 Miss Dean hastened to say, "Mr. Granthope s a 
 wonderful palmist, isn t he? He has told me some ex 
 traordinary things about myself." She held out her 
 hand. "Do tell me what you think about my palm, 
 please!" 
 
 But Fancy refused. "Oh, I don t want to make 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 159 
 
 enemies, just as we ve begun to break the ice. Every 
 one would be jealous of the other, if I told you what 
 I saw. Besides, I ought to be drumming up more 
 trade for Mr. Granthope." 
 
 "How long have you been with him ?" Cayley asked. 
 
 "Oh, about five years." 
 
 Clytie bit her lip. Granthope himself had said two. 
 
 "He has been fortunate to have such an able as 
 sistant as you," she said. 
 
 "Oh, Frank s been mighty good to me. I owe him 
 everything." Fancy said it almost aggressively. 
 
 Cayley caught Clytie s eye, and he smiled. 
 
 "Well, Blanchard," she said, disregarding his hint, 
 "am I in your list of Improbabilities now?" 
 
 "You re easily first! You certainly have surprised 
 me." 
 
 Heretofore Mrs. Maxwell, as chaperon of the party, 
 had been the star, but now Clytie, with her intuitive 
 grip on this human complication, established Fancy 
 as the guest of honor. She drank Fancy s health, and 
 Fancy s smile became more opulent and irresistible. 
 She kept Fancy s quick retorts going like fire-crackers, 
 she manipulated the conversation so that it came back 
 to Fancy at each digression. She put Fancy Gray in 
 the center of the stage and kept her there in the 
 calcium till her buoyant spirits soared. 
 
 "Drink with Fancy!" cried Fancy Gray, and the 
 company, Mrs. Maxwell included, did her honor. 
 "Drink with Fancy," she pleaded again, with a pretty, 
 infantile pout, and Clytie knocked glasses with her 
 every time. "Drink with Fancy," she repeated, and 
 Cayley drew closer. It did not, apparently, daunt 
 Clytie. She had accepted Fancy Gray as Fancy Gray 
 
160 THE HEART LINE 
 
 had accepted her, and she did not withdraw an inch 
 from her position. The talk ran on, with Fancy always 
 the center of interest. Her sallies were original, brisk, 
 and often witty. Fancy s brain grew more agile and 
 more bold. Also, her glances played more softly 
 upon Blanchard Cayley. He made the most of them, 
 with an eye on Clytie, awaiting her look of protest. 
 But it did not come. 
 
 About them the revelry still continued amidst the 
 clattering of knives and forks and dishes. Course 
 after course had been brought on and removed by the 
 hurrying, overworked waiters. Once, a madcap couple 
 arose to dance a cake-walk up and down between the 
 tables. Of the group of eight singers in the corner, 
 three had fallen into a mild stupor, three were af 
 fectionately maudlin ; two, still mirthful, sang noisily, 
 pounding upon the table. 
 
 By twos and threes, now, parties began to leave. 
 
 There was a popular song swinging through the 
 room, accented by tinkling glasses, when Fancy 
 reached out her left hand, and took Clyde s. 
 
 "I must be going, now ; good night." 
 
 Clytie held the hand. "Oh, must you? Wait and 
 let us put you on your car, anyway!" 
 
 "No, I ll drift along. I can take care of myself, all 
 right." 
 
 She stopped, and, with her head slightly tilted to one 
 side, looked Clytie in the eyes. 
 
 "What did you go to Granthope s for?" she asked. 
 
 Clytie began to color, faintly. She seemed, at first, 
 at a loss to know how to reply. 
 
 Fancy prompted her. "For a reading, of course 
 but what else?" 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 161 
 
 "I don t know," said Clytie seriously. "Really I 
 don t." 
 
 That s what I thought!" said Fancy. Then her 
 troubled brow cleared, and she turned to Cayley. 
 
 "I must say fare-thee-well, my Clementine, " she 
 said. "You certainly came to the scratch nobly. I 
 hope it wasn t all Miss Payson s prompting, though!" 
 
 "Next time I hope I ll be able to bring you," he 
 answered. "I m sorry I can t take you home now." 
 
 "Who said I was going home?" she smiled. Then 
 she looked at him, too, and spoke to him with a varia 
 tion of the quizzical tone she had used toward Clytie. 
 "I don t know what there is about you that makes 
 such a hit with me what is it?" 
 
 "The dagoes say I have the evil eye," he replied. 
 
 She laughed. "That s it! I thought it was some 
 thing nice !" 
 
 Then she rose and bowed debonairly to Mrs. Max 
 well and Miss Dean. "Good night, ladies, this is where 
 I disappear. I m afraid you ve impregnated me with 
 social aspirations. Watch for me at the Fortnightly !" 
 
 The collarless youth stretched a glass toward her 
 in salutation and sang: "Good-by, Dolly Gray!" 
 There was a burst of laughter that drew all eyes to 
 Fancy Gray. 
 
 Cayley held her coat for her, and as she turned to 
 him with thanks, a sudden mad impulse stirred her; 
 she audaciously put up her lips to be kissed. He did 
 not fail her. The ladies at the table looked on, catch 
 ing breath, stopping their talk. A waiter, passing, 
 stood transfixed. Every one watched. Then a cheer 
 broke out and a clapping of hands all over the restau 
 rant. 
 
162 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Fancy Gray bowed to her audience with dignity, as 
 if she were on the stage. Then, with a comprehensive 
 nod to her entertainers, she passed demurely down 
 the aisle between the tables. Every eye followed her. 
 
 At the counter she turned her head to see Blanchard 
 Cayley still standing by his place. She came hur 
 riedly back as if drawn by some magic spell, blushing 
 hotly, with a strange look in her eyes. She looked 
 up at him as a little girl might look up at her father. 
 The room was hushed. It was too much for that 
 audience to comprehend. The act had almost lost its 
 effrontery ; the audacity had become, somehow, pathos. 
 
 Fancy walked like a somnambulist, her eyes wide 
 open, staring at Blanchard. He had turned paler, 
 but stood still, with his gaze fastened upon her, revel 
 ing, Characteristically, in a new sensation. The ladies 
 in his party did not speak. Nobody spoke. The room 
 was like a well-governed school at study hour, every 
 eye fixed upon Fancy Gray. Whatever secret emotion 
 it was that drew her back, it was for its moment 
 compelling, casting out every trace of self-conscious 
 ness. She seemed to show her naked soul. She 
 reached him, and again he put his arms about her 
 and kissed her full on the lips. Again the tumult 
 broke forth. 
 
 In that din and confusion she slipped back to the 
 door. There was another hush. Then the crowd 
 gasped audibly and tongues were loosened in a babel 
 of exclamations. With a cry, some one pointed to 
 the window. There stood Fancy Gray, pressing 
 through the glass, histrionically, one last kiss to 
 Cayley and disappeared into the night. Half a 
 dozen men jumped up to follow her, and turned back 
 
RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER 163 
 
 to account for a new silence that had abruptly fallen 
 on the room. 
 
 Blanchard Cayley was still standing. He had 
 snatched a wine-glass from the table, and now, with 
 a silencing gesture, he held it above his head. He was 
 perfectly calm, he had lost nothing of his usual ele 
 gance of manner. 
 
 "I don t know who she is, but here s to her!" he 
 called out to the roomful of listeners. "Bottoms-up, 
 everybody !" 
 
 He drank off his toast. Glasses were raised all 
 over the room. Men sprang upon their chairs, put 
 one foot on the table and drank Fancy Gray s health. 
 Then the crowd yelled again. 
 
 In the confusion Mrs. Maxwell leaned to Qytie. 
 "I don t know, my dear, whether I ll dare to chaperon 
 you here again!" She herself was as excited as any 
 one there. 
 
 Frankie Dean s thin lips curled in a sneer. "Oh, 
 they call this Bohemia, don t they! Did you ever see 
 anything so cheap and vulgar in your life? I feel 
 positively dirty!" 
 
 Cayley watched for Clytie s answer. It came with 
 a jet of fervor. "Why," she exclaimed, "don t you 
 see it s real? It s real! It isn t the way we care to do 
 things, but they re all alive and human every one of 
 them!" 
 
 "Bah! It s all a pose. They re pretending they re 
 devilish." 
 
 "I don t care !" Clytie s eyes fired. "Even so, there s 
 a live person in each of them they re just as real as 
 we are. I never understood it before. Look under 
 the surface of it there s blood there !" 
 
164 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "It s San Francisco!" said Cayley, "that explains 
 everything. Oh, this town!" He sat down shaking 
 his head. 
 
 The old patron bustled excitedly through the room. 
 
 "Take-a de foot off de table! Take-a de foot off 
 de table !" he protested. "You spoil the table clot 
 you break-a de dishes! I don t like dat! Get down, 
 you! Get down!" 
 
~- :~ ^ 
 
164 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "It s San Francisco!" said Cayley, "that explains 
 everything. Oh, this town!" He sat down shaking 
 his head. 
 
 The old patron bustled excitedly through the room. 
 
 "Take-a de foot off de table! Take-a de foot off 
 de table !" he protested. "You spoil the table clot 
 you break-a de dishes! I don t like dat! Get down, 
 you! Get down!" 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 SIDE LIGHTS 
 
 "Mrs. Chenoweth Maxwell would be very glad to 
 see Mr. Francis Granthope next Friday evening at 
 nine o clock for an informal Chinese costume sup 
 per. Kindly arrive masked." 
 
 This invitation marked a climacteric in Granthope s 
 social career. It was supplemented by an explanation 
 over the telephone that left no doubt in the mind of 
 the palmist as to the genuineness and friendliness of 
 its cordiality. He had appeared already at several 
 assemblies of the smarter set and had, by this time, a 
 considerable acquaintance with the fashionable side 
 of town. Of the information thus acquired he had 
 made good use in his business. He had always gone, 
 however, in his professional capacity as a paid enter 
 tainer ; and no matter how considerately he had been 
 treated, the fact that he was not present as a guest had 
 always been obvious. He was in a class with the oper 
 atic star who consents to sing in private and maintains 
 her delicate position of unstable social equilibrium with 
 sensitive self-consciousness. In his rise from obscurity, 
 at first, he had been pleased with such invitations, seeing 
 that they brought him money and an increasing fame. 
 He was now sought after as a picturesque and person 
 able character. Women evinced a fearful delight in 
 his presence ; they treated him sometimes as if he were 
 a handsome highwayman, tamed to drawing-room 
 amenities, sometimes as they treated those mysterious 
 
 165 
 
166 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Hindus in robes and turbans who occasionally ap 
 peared to prate of esoteric faiths in the salons of the 
 Illuminati. 
 
 Granthope s sense of humor and his cynical view 
 of life, had, so far, been sufficient to preserve his 
 equanimity at the threshold of fashionable society. 
 His equivocal position was tolerable, for he knew well 
 enough what a sham the whole game was, and how 
 artificial was the social position which permitted a 
 woman to snub him or patronize him in public, and 
 did not prevent her following him up in private. 
 He had seen ladies raise their eyebrows at his appear 
 ance in the Western Addition, who had visited him 
 for a chance to talk to him with astonishing egotism. 
 
 There was a strain in him, however, the heritage 
 of some unknown ancestry, that, since meeting Miss 
 Payson, began to give him more and more discomfort 
 in the presence of such company. He had risen above 
 the level of the mere professional entertainer, and had 
 become fastidious. Clytie had met him upon terms of 
 equality. Her frankness had flattered him, and her 
 implied promise of friendship was like the opening of 
 a door which had, hitherto, always been shut to him. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell s bid, therefore, was a distinct ad 
 vance, and he welcomed it, not so much because it un 
 locked for him a new sort of recognition, as that it 
 furthered the game he had in hand. He could scarce 
 have defined that game to himself. He was playing 
 neither for position nor money nor power his sport 
 was perhaps as purely intellectual as that of chess, a 
 delight in the pitting of his mind against others. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell, with the tact of a woman of sensi 
 bility, had made it plain to him that he was invited 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 
 
 for his own sake, upon terms of hospitality. As a 
 lion, yes, she could not deny that. She confessed that 
 she wished to tell people that he was coming but 
 he would not be annoyed by requests for entertainment. 
 With another, he might have suspected that this was 
 only a subterfuge to avoid the necessity of paying him 
 his price, but Mrs. Maxwell s character was too well 
 known to him for that possibility to be entertained. 
 
 He set himself, therefore, to obtain a costume for 
 the affair at the "House of Increasing Prosperity," 
 known to Americans as the shop of Chew Hing Lung 
 and Company. With the assistance of the affable and 
 discerning Li Go Ball, the only Chinese in the quarter 
 who seemed to know what he required, Granthope 
 selected his outfit, a costume of the character worn by 
 the more prosperous merchant class of Celestials. 
 
 Granthope had fitted up the room next beyond his 
 studio for a bed-chamber and sitting-room, access to 
 it being had through the heavy velvet arras concealing 
 the door between the two apartments. The place was 
 severely masculine in its appointments and order, but 
 bespoke the tasteful employment of considerable 
 money. Here he had his library also, for since his 
 earliest youth he had been a great reader. Prominent 
 on its shelves were many volumes of medical books, 
 and, to offset this sobriety, the lives and memoirs of 
 the famous adventurers of history Casanova, Cagli- 
 ostro, Fenestre, Abbe Faublas, Benvenuto Cellini, Sal- 
 vator Rosa, Chevalier d Eon. 
 
 A massive Jewish seven-branch candlestick illum 
 inated the place this evening, splashing with yellow 
 lights the carved gilded frame of a huge oval mirror, 
 glowing on the belly of a bronze vase, enriching the 
 
168 THE HEART LINE 
 
 depths of color in the dull green walls, smoldering in 
 the warm tones of the great Persian rug on the floor, 
 twinkling upon the polished surface of the heavy ma 
 hogany table in the center of the room. But it was 
 concentrated chiefly upon the gorgeous oriental hues 
 where his Chinese costume was flung, flaming upon 
 the couch. There the colors were commingled as on 
 an artist s palette, cold steel blue, pale lemon yellow, 
 olive green that was nearly old gold, lavender that 
 was almost pink in the candle-light, a circle of red 
 inside the cap, and flashes of pale cream-colored bam 
 boo paper here and there. 
 
 He had already put on the silken undersuit, a cos 
 tume in itself, with its straight-falling lines and com 
 plementary colors. Fancy Gray was helping him with 
 the other garments, enjoying it as much as a little girl 
 dressing a doll, trying on each article herself first and 
 posing in it before the mirror. 
 
 First, she wrapped the bottom of his lavender 
 trousers about his ankles, over white cotton socks, tying 
 them close with the silk bands, carefully concealing the 
 knot and ends as Go Ball had instructed him. She 
 held the black boat-shaped satin shoes for him to put 
 on. Next she tied about his waist the pale yellow 
 sash so that both ends met at the side and hung 
 together in two striped party-colored ends. Then the 
 short, padded jacket, and over all this the long, steel- 
 blue, brocaded silk robe, caught in at the waist with a 
 corded belt. Lastly the olive-green coat patterned 
 with brocaded mons containing the swastika, and with 
 long sleeves almost hiding the tips of his fingers. 
 Upon its gold bullet-shaped buttons she hung the 
 tasseled spectacle-case and his ivory snuff-box. 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 169 
 
 "Oh, Frank, I forgot!" said Fancy, as she paused 
 with his wig of horse-hair eked out with braided silk 
 threads, in her hand. "Lucie was here to-day." 
 
 Granthope was at the mirror, disguising himself 
 with a long, drooping mustache and thin goatee. He 
 put down his bottle of liquid gum and turned to her. 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 "Why, she said she didn t have time to wait, and 
 didn t want to tell me anything." 
 "Why didn t she write?" 
 
 "Said she was afraid to. You re to manage some 
 way to see her to-night, if you can, and she has a 
 tip for you." 
 
 "H m!" Granthope, with Fancy s assistance, drew 
 on the wig, and clapped over his black satin skull 
 cap with its red coral button atop. Then he paused 
 again reflectively. 
 
 "It must be something important. If I can only get 
 hold of some good scandal in this four hundred 
 crowd I can have some fun with em." 
 
 "I should be afraid to trust these ladies maids ; they 
 might give you away any time, and then where d you 
 be? That would be a pretty good scandal, itself." 
 Fancy shook her head. 
 
 "Aren t they all in love with me?" he said, smiling 
 grimly. 
 
 Fancy looked dubious. "That s just the trouble. 
 * Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. / 
 
 Granthope now laughed outright. "Fancy, when 
 you get literary you re too funny for words." 
 
 She bridled, stuck out her little pointed tongue at 
 him, and walked into the front office, where she sat 
 down to attend to some details of her own work. At 
 
170 THE HEART LINE 
 
 last she finished her writing and went to the closet to 
 put on her hat and jacket. 
 
 "Oh, Frank!" she called out. 
 
 "Yes, Fancy!" 
 
 "You don t think I m jealous, do you ?" 
 
 "Yes !" he laughed. 
 
 She appeared at the doorway and called again: 
 
 "Mr. Granthope !" He was busy, and did not an 
 swer. 
 
 "Mr. Granthope!" 
 
 He looked up, now, to see her put her thumb to her 
 nose with a playfully derisive gesture, such as gamins 
 use. 
 
 He put his head back and laughed. 
 
 Then she looked at him seriously, saying, "When 
 I am, you ll never know it. I m not afraid of ladies 
 maids. When you really get into your own class it 
 will be time enough for me to worry. But I wish you 
 wouldn t use those girls. They re all cats, and they ll 
 scratch!" 
 
 She was standing before the mirror inside the 
 closet door, with her hat pin between her lips, adjust 
 ing her toque to the masses of her russet hair, when 
 there came a knock at the hall door. She looked round 
 and raised her eyebrows, then, after closing the door 
 to the anteroom of the studio, she called "Come in!" 
 
 Madam Spoil, in a black silk gown covered with a 
 raglan, entered. She wore a man s small, low-crowned, 
 Derby hat trimmed with a yellow bird s wing. 
 
 "How d you do?" said Fancy, not too cordially. 
 
 "Good evening," Madam Spoil panted; then, as 
 her breath was spent with climbing the stairs, she 
 dropped into a chair and gasped heavily. Fancy went 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 
 
 on with her preparations without further attention to 
 her visitor. 
 
 "Frank in?" was Madam Spoil s query as soon as 
 she could breathe. 
 
 "Meaning Mr. Granthope?" said Fancy airily. 
 
 "You know who I mean well enough!" was her 
 pettish reply. 
 
 "Oh, do I ?" and Fancy, her costume now in readi 
 ness for the street, walked jauntily into the anteroom 
 and knocked at the door. "Madam Spoil is here to 
 see you," she called out. 
 
 "Just a moment," he answered. 
 
 Fancy, pulling her jacket behind, wriggling, and 
 smoothing down her skirt over her hips, walked to the 
 window and cast a glance out. Then she slammed the 
 drawers of her desk, put a hair-pin between the leaves 
 of her novel, straightened her pen-holders on the stand, 
 stoppered a red-ink bottle, and marched out without 
 looking to the left or to the right. 
 
 Madam Spoil glared at her in silence till she had 
 gone; and then, with an agility extraordinary in so 
 stout a woman, she sprang to the closet, opened the 
 door and picked up an envelope lying on the floor. 
 It had been opened. She took the letter out, gave it 
 a hurried glance and then returned to her seat, stuffing 
 the paper up under her basque. 
 
 The letter was short enough for her practised eye 
 to master the contents almost at a glance. It ran : 
 
 My dear Mr. Granthope: I hope you didn t take offense 
 at my frankness the other day if I was too candid don t 
 misinterpret it and my interest in you. Sometime I may ex 
 plain it more intelligently, but for the present believe me to 
 be, Your friend, CLYTIE PAYSON. 
 
172 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Granthope came out after she had concealed the 
 note. He was fully dressed and almost unrecognizable 
 in his costume. -He walked gracefully, with the light- 
 footed stride of a mandarin, and saluted her with mock 
 gravity. Madam Spoil stared at him with her mouth 
 open. For a moment she did not appear to know him. 
 Then she chuckled. 
 
 "For the land s sakes, what are you up to now, 
 Frank? Doing the Chinese doctor s stunt and selling 
 powdered sea-horses?" 
 
 He laughed at her surprise. "No, I m doing soci 
 ety," he explained. 
 
 "Do em good, then! Lord, you are a-butting in 
 this time, ain t you ! I wouldn t know you from a Sam 
 Yup highbinder on a Chiny New Year in that rig! 
 What is it, a fancy-dress ball at the Mechanics Pavil 
 ion?" 
 
 "Worse than that," he laughed; "this is a private 
 supper-party in costume and I am a guest." 
 
 "Lord, you are getting on, for fair! You ain t 
 been conning them swell girls for nothing, have you ? 
 And, to be frank with you, I always thought you was 
 after something very different. I was kind of afraid 
 they d spoil you, too. It s a good graft, Frank, and 
 if I can do anything to give you a lift, just say 
 the word." 
 
 "Thanks," he said dryly, taking a seat in front of 
 her and pulling his long sleeves up to his wrist. 
 
 She kept her eyes upon him, as if fascinated by the 
 gorgeousness of his costume, seemingly a little in fear 
 of his elegant manners as well. Then she broke out, 
 pettishly : 
 
 "Say, Fancy s getting pretty fresh, seems to me. 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 173 
 
 She s a very different girl from what she was when she 
 used to play spook for us. She was glad enough once 
 to be polite butter wouldn t melt in her mouth them 
 days!" 
 
 "Oh, you mustn t mind Fancy ; she s all right when 
 you get used to her." 
 
 "She s pretty, if she is sassy," the medium acknow 
 ledged. "I can hardly blame you, Frank. I s pose 
 you find a good use for her. She seems to be pretty 
 fond of you." 
 
 Granthope scowled. "Never mind about her. She s 
 a great help to me here, and I like her that s enough 
 for you. You didn t come here to talk about Fancy 
 Gray." 
 
 "I should think your ladies would object, though," 
 the medium pursued. "It looks kind of funny, don t 
 it? She stays here pretty late, it seems to me, if any 
 one was to notice it. Some ladies don t like that sort 
 of thing; they get jealous. Fancy s too pretty by 
 half!" 
 
 "That ll be about all about Fancy Gray. Suppose 
 we change the subject." 
 
 "Very good then; we ll change it to another girl 
 that s as pretty. How would Miss Payson do to talk 
 about?" 
 
 "What about her?" 
 
 "A whole lot about her. How are you getting along 
 with her, for the first thing?" 
 
 Granthope smiled with an air of satisfaction, but 
 contented himself with remarking, "Oh, I m getting 
 on all right. I can attend to my own end of the game, 
 thank you. I ve handled women before." 
 
 "More ways than one, eh?" 
 
174 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "She s not that kind. Don t you believe it!" 
 
 "Then what, for the Lord s sake, are you doing 
 with her!" Madam Spoil gave her words a playful 
 accent that he resented. Then she added, more seri 
 ously: "Frank, d you know, I believe you could marry 
 that girl. If you have changed yourself enough to like 
 that kind, you might go farther and fare worse. 
 She d give you a good stand-in with the Western 
 Addition, too. And we might help you out a bit ; who 
 knows! I can see all sorts of things in it, just as it 
 stands." 
 
 "I haven t begun to think of anything like that," he 
 replied carelessly. 
 
 "Of course not. I know well enough what you was 
 thinking of. But you take my advice and don t spoil a 
 big thing for a little one. Work her easy and you 
 can land her. That s better a good sight than playing 
 with her in your usual way." 
 
 He rose and walked to the window and looked out, 
 vaguely annoyed. He turned, in a moment, to ask, 
 "Has the old man made a will ?" 
 
 "D you mean to say you ain t found that out yet? 
 Lord, Frank, you are getting slow. I don t know. I 
 ain t come to that yet. But if he ain t, I ll see that he 
 does make one, and that s where I can look out for 
 your interests." 
 
 There was a slight sneer on his face. "Oh, don t 
 trouble yourself. I ve my own system, you know. I 
 haven t made many breaks yet. It s likely that I can 
 help you more than you can me. That reminds me; 
 you might take these notes. It s about all I have got 
 from the girl so far. They may come in handy." 
 
 He went to his desk, took a couple of cards from a 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 175 
 
 tin box in the top drawer, and handed them to Madam 
 Spoil. She looked them over interestedly. 
 
 "Much obliged. H m! So she thinks she s a 
 psychic, does she ? They might be something in that. 
 Supposed to be engaged to B. Cayley. Well, you ll 
 have to fix him, won t you ! Father writing a book 
 ah! That s just what we want. Say, that s great! 
 Me and Vixley will work that book, don t you worry ! 
 Wears a ring with Clytie inside. Turquoises. Mole 
 on left cheek. Goes to Mercantile Library three to 
 five. Sun-dial with doll buried under it. That s 
 funny. I wish it was papers, or something important 
 I don t see what we could do with a doll, do you? 
 Still, you never can tell. All s generally fish that 
 comes to my net. I ve known stranger things than 
 dolls. Making a birthday present of a hand-bound 
 volume of what? Montaigne? What s that? Say, 
 what s this about Madam Grant, anyway?" 
 
 He turned to her and held out his hand for the 
 card, now distinctly impatient. "I don t know that 
 is, I forgot I put that on. There s nothing there that 
 will help you, I guess. You d better let me have it 
 back, after all. It s chiefly about Miss Payson, any 
 way, and that isn t your business." 
 
 Madam Spoil refused to return the card. Instead, 
 she tucked it into the front of her dress, saying, "Oh, 
 I don t know. You never know what may be useful. 
 It s well to be prepared." 
 
 "See here ; you understand that you re to keep your 
 hands off Miss Payson," said Granthope with empha 
 sis. "She s my game. Do what you like with the old 
 man, but leave me alone, that s all !" 
 
 "Don t you fret yourself about that. Ain t we 
 
176 THE HEART LINE 
 
 worked together before, for gracious sakes? I guess 
 I can mind my own business !" 
 
 The palmist walked over to the fireplace, stood lean 
 ing against the mantel and kicked the fender medita 
 tively, somewhat disturbed by Madam Spoil s presence. 
 He had seen Miss Payson only twice, yet he had 
 already come to the point where he was annoyed to 
 hear her so cold-bloodedly discussed, and his own 
 heartless notes quoted. Even less could he enjoy think 
 ing of so fine and delicate a creature in the toils of 
 Vixley and Spoil. No, she was for his own plucking. 
 She was a quarry well worth his chase. To share his 
 plans with such vulgar plotters seemed to cheapen 
 the prize, to rub off the bloom of her beauty and 
 charm. He would play a more exquisite, a more 
 subtle game. It would not do, however, to break 
 with the mediums. They were still useful to him, in 
 spite of his assertion of independence. They knew, 
 besides, altogther too much about him for him to dare 
 to kindle their resentment. 
 
 If Madam Spoil had noticed his detachment she did 
 not show it. She herself had, evidently, been thinking 
 something over, and now she interrupted his medita 
 tion. 
 
 "Say, Frank, about that old Madam Grant, now " 
 
 "She wasn t so old, was she?" 
 
 "How d you know she wasn t?" 
 
 He covered his mistake as well as he could with : 
 "Oh, I ve heard she was a young woman, not more 
 than thirty, when she died." 
 
 "Well, it s so far back, it seems as though she must 
 have been old. You know I fished a little with what 
 you give me about her and Payson; putting that 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 177 
 
 together with what Lulu Ellis got, I believe I can work 
 him. Funny you happened on that bit. Did the Pay- 
 son girl tell you?" 
 
 "Oh, I got it she let it out in a way. You know." 
 
 Madam Spoil chuckled. "Lord, they tell us more n 
 we ever tell them, don t they! But I was saying: I 
 wish I could find out more about that little boy Madam 
 Grant used to keep. I wonder was he her son, now ?" 
 
 "I suppose you might find out something if you 
 looked up the files of the Chronicle" 
 
 "That s a good idea. I ll do it. D you know what 
 year it was?" 
 
 "1877." 
 
 "How d you know?" 
 
 He walked away from her carelessly, replying: 
 "That s the idea I got of it. About that time." 
 
 "Frank," she said, "ain t you ever got any clue to 
 who you are, yet? Never got any hint at all?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Why don t you go to some real sure-enough 
 psychic ? They might help. I ve known em to do won 
 derful things." 
 
 Granthope gazed at her and laughed loud. "You?" 
 was all he could say. 
 
 She drew herself up. "Yes, me! Sure. Why, you 
 don t think I consider they ain t no genuine ones, even 
 if I do fake a little, do you ?" 
 
 "You actually believe there s a medium alive that 
 can tell such things?" 
 
 "I m positive of it. Why, when I begun, I give 
 some remarkable tests myself. I used to get names, 
 sometimes. But there are straight ones. Not here, 
 maybe, but in New York. You could send a lock of 
 your hair." 
 
178 THE HEART LINE 
 
 He went up to her and clapped his hand on her 
 shoulder, still laughing. "You re beautiful, my dear; 
 you re positively beautiful!" 
 
 She turned a surprised face to him. "What in the 
 world d you mean?" 
 
 He shook his head and walked away. "Preserve 
 your illusions! It s too wonderful. I ll be believing 
 in palmistry, next. I ll believe myself in love, after 
 that. And then I ll believe I m honest, dignffied, 
 honorable, modest!" His tone grew, word by word, 
 more hard and cynical. Then he turned to her with a 
 whimsical expression: "So you believe your doll s 
 alive !" 
 
 "I ve no time to talk nonsense any longer!" she 
 exclaimed, rising ponderously. "I can t make you out 
 at all, Frank. Sometimes you re practical as insurance 
 and sometimes you re half bug-house. Maybe it s them 
 clothes!" She regarded him carefully. 
 
 He bowed to her with mock courtesy, spreading his 
 fan. 
 
 "Lord, you do look like a fool in that Chink s rig. 
 Have a good time with em but keep your eyes and 
 your ears open!" 
 
 She went out. 
 
 He was about to turn out the electric lights and 
 leave, when he heard a knock at the door. He opened 
 it, and saw the little freckled-face girl who had come 
 to his office the day he had first met Clytie Payson. 
 He recognized her instantly, but she, seeing him so 
 extraordinarily disguised, drew back in surprise. 
 
 "Did you want Mr. Granthope?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes!" She finally made him out, but still gazed 
 at him, somewhat frightened. Her face was bloodless. 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 179 
 
 "Come in," he said kindly. "I m Granthope. You ll 
 have to excuse this costume. * He set a chair for her, 
 but she stood, timidly regarding 1 him. 
 
 "I m awfully afraid I m bothering you, Mr. Grant- 
 hope, coming so late I know I ought to have come 
 in your office hours, but I couldn t possibly get off 
 and I did want to see you awfully! D you suppose 
 you could help me a little, now ? I thought you might 
 be able to, you said such wonderful things when I 
 was here before, and I just can t stand it not to know, 
 and I don t know what to do." 
 
 "Do sit down. Tell me what s the matter, my dear." 
 
 She crept into a chair, and sat with nervous hands, 
 staring at him. 
 
 "Why, don t you remember?" She gazed at him in 
 alarm. "Oh, I ve depended so on what you said it s 
 all that kept me going !" 
 
 "Just pardon me a moment, please." He went to 
 his desk drawer and began to fumble over his card 
 catalogue. "I have a memorandum to make. Then 
 I ll talk to you." He came to the card, and made a 
 penciled note and glanced it over. Then he returned 
 to her and sat down. "Now tell me all about it," he 
 said gravely. "I remember perfectly, of course. Bill 
 was in the Philippines, wasn t he? You hadn t heard 
 from him for some time, and you were expecting him 
 home on the next transport?" 
 
 She sat, limply huddled in her chair, gazing at him 
 through her sad eyes. 
 
 "He did come back. I couldn t meet the boat I 
 missed him. And now he s gone!" 
 
 "He didn t let you know where he went?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Granthope, it s too awful! I can t bear 
 
i8o THE HEART LINE 
 
 it, but I could stand anything if I could only find him ! 
 You must find him for me." 
 
 "I ll do what I can, my dear. Your hand shows 
 that it will all come out for the best. I wouldn t 
 worry." 
 
 "Oh, but you don t know! You don t know how 
 bad it is !" she moaned. "I thought you might know. 
 He was wounded in a battle." 
 
 "But he came back?" 
 
 "Yes." Then she burst into a hurried torrent of 
 words. "He didn t want me to know. He was shot 
 in the face his nose was shot off it s awful some 
 of the men told me about it. Bill was ashamed to 
 have me see him he tried to make me think he wasn t 
 in love with me any more, so I d go away. But I 
 knew better. Bill s so proud, Mr. Granthope, you 
 don t know how proud he is! He d rather leave me 
 than make me suffer. But what do I care for his nose 
 being gone ? Why, Bill s a hero ! He had more nerve 
 than Hobson, anyway ! Just because he was the only 
 man in his company that dared to go through a 
 swamp, under fire, to save his lieutenant and he 
 brought him in on his back, Bill did! Why, Bill s 
 father was killed at Antietam, but Bill s luck was a 
 heap worse than that ! He has to live without a face 
 and be despised and sneered at because he did his 
 duty! Oh, if I can only find him, I ll give him some 
 thing that will make him forget. Don t I love him all 
 the more for it? He s tried to sacrifice his whole life 
 and happiness only for me just to save me from 
 suffering when I look at him. D you know many men 
 who d do that for a girl ? I don t !" 
 
 She broke down and sobbed convulsively. The story 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 181 
 
 seemed to Granthope like a scene from a play, and 
 his inability to comfort her smote him while she 
 fought to restrain her tears. 
 
 "And you can t find out where he is?" 
 
 "No. The company was mustered out, and Bill just 
 naturally disappeared. Nobody knows where he is. 
 I ve asked all his officers, and all the men I could find."" 
 
 He took her hand and looked at it soberly for a 
 moment. 
 
 "It will all come out right, my dear. You trust me. 
 There s your line of fate as clean as a string. I see 
 trouble in it, but only for a little while. You ll be 
 married, too. You must have patience and wait, that s 
 all. Suppose you come back and see me in a week or 
 so, and tell me if you ve heard any news of him. 
 Meanwhile, I ll see what I can find out myself. There s 
 a cross in your hand that s a good sign. Bill still 
 loves you, and he won t let you suffer long." 
 
 He felt the pitiful emptiness of his words, but he 
 had been too affected by her narrative to give her the 
 smooth banalities that were always ready to his 
 tongue. She got up and looked at him through her 
 tears. 
 
 "You have helped me, Mr. Granthope. Somehow 
 I knew you could. I ll be in again sometime. How 
 much is it, please?" 
 
 "My dear girl, when you come again, you can thank 
 the young lady whom you saw here before. Don t 
 thank me." 
 
 She looked at him silently, then she took his hand 
 and shook it very hard. "You mean that lady with 
 red hair who sits at the desk?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
182 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I liked her when I saw her. She was nice to me. 
 Is is she Mrs. Granthope?" 
 
 Granthope shook his head and smiled. 
 
 The girl blushed at her indiscretion. "I kind of 
 thought she seemed to be, well, fond of you. I mean, 
 the way she looked at you, I didn t know but what 
 you were married. I hope you ll excuse me." She 
 was visibly confused, and evidently had said much 
 more than she had intended. 
 
 "My dfar," Granthope replied, "she s far too good 
 forme!" 
 
 The girl shook her head slowly, as she rose to go. 
 A smile struggled to her face as if, for the first time, 
 she noted the incongruity of the palmist s costume, 
 then, with a grateful look she went out. 
 
 As soon as he had left, Granthope sat down at the 
 desk and wrote a note upon a memorandum pad. It 
 read: 
 
 Fancy 
 
 To-morrow morning please go down to the ticket office at 
 the Ferry, and see if you can find out where a soldier, with 
 his nose shot off, bought a ticket to, about ten days ago. 
 
 He rose, yawned, stared thoughtfully at the casts 
 for a few moments, then snapped his fingers and 
 walked to the window. His cab was waiting. He went 
 down-stairs, got into the vehicle and drove off. 
 
 The Maxwells lived at Presidio Heights, in one of 
 the newer residences of the aristocratic Western 
 Addition, a handsome brick house decorated with 
 Romanesque fantasies in terra cotta, behind a bronze 
 rail guarded by heraldic griffins. Granthope walked 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 183 
 
 up under the lantern-hung awning five minutes before 
 the hour and was shown to a room up-stairs. 
 
 Here there were several men waiting and adjusting 
 their garments. All but one were in Chinese costume ; 
 this was a fat, red-faced man, with a white mustache. 
 He was in evening dress, and kept exclaiming: 
 
 "I won t make a damned fool of myself for anybody. 
 It s all nonsense !" He was obviously embarrassed at 
 being the only nonconformist. 
 
 "Sully" Maxwell, arrayed in a magnificently em 
 broidered Chinese officer s summer uniform a long, 
 flounced robe, with the imperial dragons and their 
 balls of fire, the rainbow border and the all-over 
 cloud-pattern was helping the men to dress, chaffing 
 each of them in turn. He was middle-aged and pros 
 perous-looking, typically a "man s man" and "hail- 
 fellow-well-met," despite his immense fortune. He 
 greeted Granthope cordially, without hint of patron 
 age, and introduced him to the others. 
 
 Of two, Keith and Fernigan, Granthope had heard 
 much. They were the pets of a certain smartish social 
 circle, in virtue of their cleverness and wit. They 
 were of the kind who habitually do "stunts" and were 
 always expected to make the company merry and in 
 formal. Keith was a tall, wiry, flap-eared, smiling 
 fellow, made up as a Chinese stage-comedian, with his 
 nose painted white. Fernigan, short, stout to rotund 
 ity, almost bald, with spectacles, and a round, Irish 
 feface, was dressed in woman s costume, head-dress, ear 
 rings, green coat and pink silk trousers. He was 
 naturally droll, a wag at all times, and his whimsical 
 way constantly approached a shocking limit but never 
 quite reached it. He was speaking a good parody 
 
184 THE HEART LINE 
 
 of the Cantonese dialect to his partner, and making 
 eccentric gestures. 
 
 Both he and Keith greeted Granthope with mock 
 gravity, addressing him in pidgin English. Granthope 
 answered with what spirit he had, and, taking his 
 place at the mirror, placed upon his nose an enormous 
 pair of blue-glass spectacles, horn-rimmed. They dis 
 guised him effectually. 
 
 As he left the room, a man with a pointed, reddish 
 beard entered, dressed in long flowing robes of plum- 
 colored silk. 
 
 Granthope caught the greeting: "Hello, Blan!" and 
 turned with curiosity to see the Mr. Cayley of whom 
 he had heard so much. He did not, however, wait 
 to be introduced, but passed on. 
 
 The great reception-room down-stairs presented one 
 of the most beautiful, as well as one of the most 
 original, of San Francisco interiors. It was entirely 
 of redwood, panels six feet in width all round the 
 walls extending up to a narrow shelf supported by 
 carved brackets. The low-studded ceiling was broken 
 by a row of finely adzed beams, carved tastefully at the 
 ends. A feature of the reception-room was a wide 
 fireplace of terra cotta surmounted by a mantel, con 
 sisting of at least a dozen combined moldings, each 
 member of which showed a striking individuality of 
 detail. The place was illuminated by side brackets 
 in the form of copper sconces. Granthope entered, 
 quite at his ease, with a long, swinging, heel-and-toe 
 stride that comported well with his costume. 
 
 There were already some half-dozen persons sitting 
 about the room, most of whom seemed afraid to talk 
 for fear of disclosing their identity, or perhaps, a little 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 185 
 
 too self-conscious in their garish raiment. The silence, 
 if it had not been painful, would have been absurd. 
 Granthope looked in vain for any sign of his hostess* 
 presence, and then suspecting that she, too, was masked 
 to enjoy the piquancy of the situation, he saluted one of 
 the ladies, sat down beside her and began a conversa 
 tion. Knowing that few were acquainted with him he 
 had no need to disguise his voice. He sat on a straight 
 chair stiffly, as he had seen Chinese actors pose at the 
 theater, his toes turned out in opposite directions so as 
 to insure the proper fall of the skirt of his robe, and 
 disclose, through a narrow gap, the splendor of his 
 lavender trousers. His partner answered him in whis 
 pers. 
 
 As he sat talking nonsense gaily, a woman came 
 into the room with so perfect an imitation of the 
 "tottering lily" walk affected by high-caste Chinese 
 women, that he turned his eyes upon her in delight 
 at her acting. 
 
 She was of a good height ; and her white embroid 
 ered shoes, whose heels were placed in the center of 
 the sole, gave her nearly two inches more. Her cos 
 tume was a rainbow of subdued contrasting colors. It 
 was evident at a glance that every garment she wore 
 was old, valuable and consistent with her character of 
 bride. 
 
 The smoothly coiled rolls of her black wig were 
 decorated by numerous gold ornaments and artificial 
 flowers. Across her forehead was a head-dress of gold 
 filigree-work and kingfisher feathers; its ribbon was 
 tied in the back of her head and fell in fanciful ends. 
 She wore two coats the outer was of yellow brocaded 
 silk, a pastel shade, trimmed with a wide stripe of 
 
i86 THE HEART LINE 
 
 close blue embroidery and rows of looking-glass but 
 tons the inner one, shorter, was of blue and black 
 appliqued work in bold, virile pattern. Below this 
 showed her closely-pleated skirt of old rose with a panel 
 of gold embroidery in the center; this, as she walked, 
 revealed occasional glimpses of a pair of full straight 
 green trousers trimmed with horizontal stripes, and 
 a flash of white silk stockings. Necklaces she had in 
 profusion, one of jade, one of purple mother-of-pearl, 
 one of white coral, one of sandalwood ; and others in 
 graded sizes and colors. In her right hand she carried 
 a narrow gold-paper fan; on her left wrist was a jade 
 bracelet, and, pulled through it, a green silk handker 
 chief with a purple fringe. 
 
 Her entry made a sensation, as she courtesied grave 
 ly to each one in turn. So, playing her part cleverly, 
 she came to Granthope, who arose and greeted her with 
 a dignified salaam. So far they were the only ones who 
 had at all entered into the spirit of the occasion, and 
 li did his best to meet her character and play up 
 to her elaborate salutation. He offered his arm, then, 
 and escorted her, with considerable manner, to a long 
 settee. 
 
 In all this pantomime she had preserved a serious 
 expression, the repressed, almost inanely impassive, 
 set face of a Chinese lady of rank; but when at last 
 she was seated, she turned full upon him and smiled 
 under her mask. 
 
 The effect upon Granthope was a sudden thrill of 
 overpowering delight. He was deliciously weakened 
 by the revelation. His breath came suddenly, with a 
 swift intake the blood rioted through his veins. 
 
 She wore a much wider mask than the others, so that 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 187 
 
 nothing but her mouth and chin was shown. But that 
 mouth was so tempting, with its ravishing, floating 
 smile, and that smile so concentrated in its limitation 
 to a single feature, that it turned his head. The lips 
 were narrow and bright; the blood seemed about to 
 ooze through the skin. The upper one was curved in 
 a tantalizing bow between the drops of soft shadow 
 at the corners. The cleft above seemed to draw her 
 lip a little upward to disclose a line of small, perfect, 
 regular teeth of a delicate, bluish white translucence, 
 which, parting, showed a narrow rosy tongue. The 
 lower lip was that delicious fraction of an inch lesser 
 than the upper one which, in profile, gave her a touch 
 of youthful, almost boyish, wistfulness. Her round, 
 firm chin showed, from the same point of view, a 
 classic right angle to her throat, where the line swept 
 down the proud column of her neck, there to swing 
 tenderly outward toward her breast. 
 
 He could not take his eyes from her, but he had not 
 the will to restrain his staring. The spell was irre 
 sistible ; he drank her deep and could not get enough. 
 For these whirling moments he was at the mercy of 
 the attraction of sex, impersonal, yet distilled to an 
 intoxicating essence. Had it not been for her mask 
 hiding the upper part of her face, had her eyes cor 
 rected this almost wanton loveliness with some reserve 
 or with the effect of a more intellectual character, had 
 his glance even been given a chance to wander over 
 equally enchanting components of that expression, he 
 undoubtedly would not have been so moved by the 
 sight of her laughing, tempting mouth. But that, 
 faultlessly formed, exquisitely sexed, whimsically prov 
 ocative, had for him, with the rest of her face hidden, 
 
188 THE HEART LINE 
 
 an original and freshly flavored delight. In the spec 
 trum of her beauty the violets and blues of her spirit, 
 the greens and orange of her mind were for the nonce 
 inhibited; only the vibrant red rays of her physical 
 personality smote him, burning him with their radi 
 ance. But there was, he felt, no malice behind that smile, 
 though it was mischievous ; there was nothing wanton 
 there, though in this guise her lips seemed abandoned 
 and inviting. There was, in their flexed contour, in 
 the engaging mobility of their poise, no consciousness 
 of anything sensually appealing. It was, rather, as if 
 he gained some secret aspect of the woman beneath 
 and behind all conventions of morality, of modesty, 
 and of discretion. So far, indeed, she seemed, in a 
 way, without a personality. She was Woman smiling 
 at him. The vision was too much for him. 
 
 She bent toward him and her lips whispered: 
 "How do you do, Mr. Granthope? Why are you 
 staring so? I thought of course you knew me but 
 I really believe you don t." 
 
 Even then he did not recognize her, and was pro 
 foundly embarrassed. That he should fail to remem 
 ber such a mouth as that! He took her hand which 
 had been concealed in her long sleeve and looked at 
 it. She had glued long false nails of celluloid to her 
 little fingers, completing the picture of a Chinese lady 
 of quality. At the first sight of her palm, at the first 
 touch of it, even, he knew her, and, with a rush, a dozen 
 thoughts bewildered him. This was she whom he had 
 been able so to influence, to cajole. He had, in a way, 
 a claim to this comeliness. She had favored him, had 
 confessed her interest in him. They were, besides, 
 bound by a secret tie. He might hope for more of her, 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 189 
 
 perhaps. She was already somewhat in his power; 
 he had, at least, the capacity to sway her. She, 
 alluring, delightful, might perhaps be gained, and in 
 some way, won. She had known him at a glance 
 there was her prescience again! She had welcomed 
 him, in assurance of her favor. What then was pos 
 sible ? What dared he not hope for ? A great wave of 
 desire overcame him. 
 
 Meanwhile he answered, distracted and unready : 
 
 "You knew me then? I thought I was pretty well 
 disguised." 
 
 "Oh, you ve forgotten how hard it is to deceive me. 
 I should never try it, if I were you. Of course I knew 
 you ! I should know you if you had covered your 
 head in a sack." 
 
 He stammered, and he was not often confused 
 enough to stammer. "I don t know how to tell you 
 how beautiful you are, Miss Payson." 
 
 She spoke low and slowly, with a wayward inflec 
 tion, "Oh, I m so sorry." Then she added, "I scarce 
 ly dared speak to you, you are so magnificent." 
 
 "I would need to be, to be worthy of sitting beside 
 you," he replied, his wits floating, unmanageable. 
 
 "Did you get my note ?" 
 
 "Yes, I want to thank you for it." 
 
 "I hope you ve forgiven me." 
 
 "Of course, I was only flattered by your frankness." 
 
 "It s so easy to be frank with you," she said. "You 
 see, I m perfectly myself with you, even en masque. 
 I doubt if any of my friends would know me as I am 
 with you." 
 
 "But I ve seen a new y u that I haven t known 
 before." 
 
190 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Then she owes her existence to your presence. 
 But how am I different? Tell me." 
 
 "You take my breath away. You say such charm 
 ing things to me that it deprives me of the power of 
 answering you anything I could say seems ineffec 
 tive and cheap. You get ahead of me so. Really, 
 you ll have to be positively rude to me before I can 
 summon presence of mind enough to say anything 
 gallant." 
 
 Again her lips curved daintily. Her voice was 
 dulcet : 
 
 "Then I am afraid I shall never hear any nice 
 things from you." 
 
 He was reduced ; baffled by her suavity. He sought 
 in vain for a fitting return. He had the impulse 
 to take advantage of her courtesy, however, and grat 
 ify some portion of his desire to be nearer her. She 
 wore, suspended from the gold top-button of her 
 "qua," a red silk tassel with a filigree network of 
 silver threads, containing a gold heart-shaped scent 
 bottle. He reached to it and tried to remove it from 
 Its place, covering this slight advance jocosely, with 
 the remark: 
 
 "Is that your heart you have there? It seems to 
 be pure gold." 
 
 She did not resent what might possibly have been 
 considered a familiarity, but smiled when she saw that 
 he could not remove the bottle from the meshes. 
 
 "I m afraid you won t be able to get at it, that way." 
 There was a touch of playful emphasis in her voice. 
 
 Their hands met as she assisted him, showing him 
 how to pull up the sliding ring and open the net. 
 At that contact he became a little giddy. The blood 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 191 
 
 surged to her cheeks. She took out the bottle and 
 handed it to him. That moment was tense with feel 
 ing. Then she said, as he tried in vain to unstopper 
 the little jar: 
 
 "Can you open it, do you think?" 
 
 He attempted futilely to open the little heart. 
 "I m afraid I can t," he said disconsolately. "Won t 
 you help me?" 
 
 "No, you must do it yourself. There is a way 
 see!" 
 
 She took it from him and, concealing it in her 
 hand, opened the top and reached it out for him to 
 smell. He whiffed a penetrating perfume, disturb 
 ingly pungent, then she withdrew it from him and 
 closed the heart. 
 
 "May I take it?" he asked. 
 
 She returned it now, saying, and her smile was 
 more serious than before, "Learn to open it. There 
 is a way." 
 
 Granthope took the heart and tried to master its 
 secret. The room had by this time rilled up so that 
 a further tete-a-tete was impossible. Miss Payson 
 was now besieged by maskers and held court where 
 she sat. Fernigan, the stout young man with the 
 powdered face, dressed as a woman, was particularly 
 offensive to Granthope, and especially so because it 
 could not be denied that his antics and sallies were 
 witty. 
 
 Granthope arose therefore, and walked about the 
 room looking for some one whom he might recognize. 
 There was little likelihood of his succeeding had not 
 his professional capacity given him a clue to follow. 
 He passed from one group to another, bowing, ges- 
 
192 THE HEART LINE 
 
 ticulating and joking, as all had now begun to do, 
 keeping his eyes alertly on the hands of different 
 members of the assembly. It was not long before he 
 suspected Mrs. Page, and, after reassuring himself 
 by closer inspection, he went up to her. 
 
 She was as expensively dressed as Clytie, but with 
 out Cly tie s taste. Mrs. Page s magnificence was 
 barbaric, untamed to any harmony of color, though 
 effective in its very violence. She had not left her 
 diamonds at home. She blazed in them. Tall, dark, 
 well-formed and deep-breasted, not even the loosely 
 hanging folds of a Chinese costume could hide the 
 luxuriance with which Nature had endowed her fig 
 ure. She was laughing with abandon, reveling in the 
 freedom of the moment, when Granthope touched her 
 on the shoulder and whispered: 
 
 "Violet!" 
 
 She turned to him and stared, puzzled by his well- 
 disguised face. 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "I know more about you than any one here!" 
 
 "Good heavens !" she laughed, "what do you know 
 about me?" 
 
 "Shall I tell you?" 
 
 "Not here, for mercy s sake! Don t give me away 
 in respectable society, please. Come out in the hall 
 where we won t be eavesdropped." 
 
 She took his arm energetically and romped him out 
 to the staircase. The masks and costumes had let 
 loose all her folly. She effervesced in giggles. 
 
 "Let s go up-stairs in the library," she proposed. 
 "We have the run of the house to-night, and nobody ll 
 be there. I want to see if I can t guess who you are. 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 193 
 
 I haven t the least idea who you are, but I believe 
 you re going to be nice." 
 
 She tapped him on the cheek playfully with her 
 fan, then picked up her skirts and ran up-stairs, giv 
 ing him a glance of red silk hose, as she went. He was 
 still quivering with the excitement of Clyde s smile, 
 still warm from her nearness, still full of her, though 
 he would not share her wholesale glances to her 
 throng of admirers. He was still rapt with the exhil 
 aration her smile had kindled, he still held her little 
 perfumed heart. As he followed Mrs. Page up-stairs 
 he smelt again of the gold bottle. The fragrant odor 
 fired him anew. He grew perfervid. 
 
 Mrs. Page, unmasked, was awaiting him in the 
 library. 
 
 When they came down ten minutes later, he made 
 way to where Clytie sat, talking to the gentleman 
 with the reddish pointed beard and plum-colored gar 
 ments. Seeing Granthope approach, she turned to her 
 companion, saying: 
 
 "Would you mind getting me a glass of water, 
 Blanchard? This mask is fearfully warm. I hope 
 we won t have to keep them on much longer." 
 
 Cayley left to obey her and Granthope took his 
 place by her chair. She looked up at him quickly, and 
 said, in a low voice : 
 
 "I think you had better give me back my scent- 
 bottle, please." 
 
 A pang smote him. He felt the shock of reproach 
 in her voice, knowing what she meant immediately, 
 though he rallied to say, faint-heartedly: 
 
 "Why, I haven t learned how to open it yet." 
 
194 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I m afraid you ll never learn." She did not look 
 at him. 
 
 "What do you mean ?" he asked, summoning all his 
 courage. "I thought you had given it to me." 
 
 She kept her eyes away from him. "If I did, I must 
 ask it back, now." 
 
 Perturbed as he was by this new proof of her 
 intuition, he refused to admit it. After all, it might 
 have been merely her quick observation. At any 
 rate, he would make another attempt to pit his clever 
 ness against her sapience. 
 
 "Oh, we only went up to see Mr. Maxwell s books. 
 He has a first edition of Montaigne there." He was 
 for a moment sure that she was only jealous. 
 
 She bent her calm eyes upon him. There was no 
 weakness in her mouth, though it seemed more lovely 
 in its tremulous distress. The upper lip quivered 
 uncontrolled ; the lower one fell grieving, as she said : 
 
 "I asked nothing. I want only honesty in what you 
 do tell me." 
 
 This time he was fairly amazed. The hit was dead 
 ly. He dared not suspect that she had taken a chance 
 shot. He was too humbled to attempt any denial, 
 knowing how useless it would be in the face of her 
 discernment. Yet she had showed nothing more than 
 disapproval or distress. Her reproof could scarcely 
 be called an accusation, and her chivalry touched him. 
 
 "I don t know what you will think of me," he said. 
 
 "Oh, I ve heard so much worse of you than that," 
 she said, "and it hasn t prevented my wanting to be 
 friends with you. I hope only that you will never 
 misinterpret that friendliness. You don t think me 
 bold, do you?" 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 195 
 
 "I wish you were bolder." 
 
 "Oh, you don t know my capacity yet. But, really, 
 ido you understand? It s that feeling, you know, that 
 in some way we re connected, that s all. It s unex- 
 plainable, and I know it s silly of me. I m not trying 
 to impress you." 
 
 "But you are !" 
 
 In answer, she smiled again, and again that flood 
 of delight came over him rendering him unable, for 
 a moment, to do anything but gaze at her. Luckily 
 just then Cayley returned with a glass of water; at 
 the same time, the order was given by Mrs. Maxwell 
 to unmask. 
 
 Clytie drew off her visor immediately. As Grant- 
 hope watched her he felt the quality of his excitement 
 change, transmuted to a higher psychic level. Some 
 how, with her whole face revealed, with her serene 
 eyes shining on him, he was less in the grip of that 
 craving which had held him prisoner. It fled, leav 
 ing him more calm, but with a deepened, more vital de 
 sire. The completed beauty of her face now thrilled 
 him with a demand for possession, but the single note 
 of passion was richened to a fuller chord of feeling. 
 The mole on her cheek made her human, and almost 
 attainable. 
 
 That feeling gave him a new and potent stimulus, as, 
 under his hostess direction, he offered Clytie his arm 
 into the supper-room, and took a place beside her. 
 It buoyed him with pride when he looked about at the 
 gaily clad guests and noticed, with a quickened eye, 
 the distinction of her face and air, comparing her with 
 the others. That dreamy, detached aspect in which 
 he had seen her before had given way now to a fine 
 
196 THE HEART LINE 
 
 glow of excitement which stirred her blood. How far 
 she responded to his enthusiasm he could not tell ; she 
 was, at least, inspired with the novelty of the scene 
 the gaudy dresses, the warm red lights of monstrous 
 paper lanterns, the odors of burning joss-sticks, the 
 table, flower-bedecked and set out with strangely dec 
 orated dishes, and the monotonous, hypnotic squeak 
 and clang and rattle of a Chinese orchestra half-way 
 up the stairs. 
 
 All trace of her annoyance had gone from her now, 
 and that unnamable, untamed spirit, usually dormant 
 in her, had retaken possession of her body. She was 
 more jubilantly alive than he had thought it possible 
 for her to be. He dared not attribute her animation 
 to his presence, however, gladly as he would have 
 welcomed that compliment. It was the spell of 
 masquerade, no doubt, that had liberated an unusual 
 mood, emboldening her to show those nimble flashes 
 of gallantry. At any rate, that revelation of her 
 under-soul was a piquant subject for his mind to think 
 on ; there was an evidence of temperament there which 
 tinctured her fragile beauty with an intoxicating sug 
 gestion. It was a sign of unexpected depths in her, 
 a promise of entrancing surprises. 
 
 For the first time in his life he lacked the audacity 
 to woo a woman boldly. There had never been enough 
 at stake before to make him count his chances. There 
 had been everything to win, nothing to lose. Women 
 had solicited his favor, but there was something differ 
 ent in Clyde s approaches toward familiarity. She 
 spoke as with a right-royal and secure from suspicion, 
 with a directness which of itself made it impossible 
 for him to take advantage of her complaisance. Ha 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 197 
 
 was put, in spite of himself, upon his honor to prove 
 himself worthy of her confidence. There was, besides, 
 a social handicap for him in her assured position he 
 could see what a place she held by the treatment she 
 received from every one while he was in his novitiate 
 at such a gathering, newly called there, his standing 
 still questionable. But, most of all, to make their 
 powers unequal, was his increasing fear of her as an 
 antagonist with whom he could not cope intellectually. 
 He, with all his clever trickery and his practical know 
 ledge of psychology, was like a savage with bow and 
 arrow; she, with her marvelous intuition, like a god 
 dess with a bolt mysteriously and dangerously effect 
 ive. 
 
 Already his instinct accepted this relation, but his 
 brain was still stubborn, seeking a refuge from the 
 truth. He was to have, even as he sat there with 
 her, another manifestation. 
 
 Clytie sat at his left hand. Mrs. Page, at his right, 
 had been assigned to the bald, red-faced gentleman 
 with white mustache, who had so profanely refused 
 to make a fool of himself by wearing a Chinese cos 
 tume. His sprightly, flamboyant partner was ill- 
 pleased with her lot. She proceeded to spread an 
 airy conversational net for Granthope, endeavoring 
 to trap him into her dialogue, with such patent art 
 that every woman at the table noticed her tactics. 
 
 Granthope, however, shook her off with a smile and 
 a joke, as if she were an annoying, buzzing fly. Still 
 she hummed about him, leaving her partner to him 
 self and his food. However clever and willing Grant- 
 hope might have been, ordinarily, at such an exchange 
 of persiflage, it was all he could do to parry her 
 
198 THE HEART LINE 
 
 thrusts and at the same time keep up with Clytie. 
 But she, noticing Mrs. Page s game, was mischievous 
 enough, or, perhaps, annoyed enough, to give the wom 
 an her chance and submit to a trial of strength. So, 
 as if to give Granthope the choice between them, she 
 turned to her left-hand neighbor, Fernigan, who, in his 
 female costume, had kept that end of the table, by his 
 wit, from interfering with her colloquy. 
 
 Granthope was in a quandary, fearing to be inex 
 tricably annexed. Mrs. Page at this moment increased 
 his dilemma by casting a languishing look at him and 
 pressing his foot with hers under the table. 
 
 All that was flirtatiously adventurous in him boiled 
 up; for Mrs. Page was, in her own way, a beauty, 
 and, as he had reason to know, amiable. 
 
 He drew away his foot, however, and as he did so, 
 gave a quick inward glance at himself, wondering, and 
 not a little amused, at the change that had taken place 
 in him. Novelty is, in such dalliance, a prime factor 
 of temptation it was not a lack of novelty, however, 
 which made her touch unwelcome, for he was, in his 
 relations with the woman, at what would be usually 
 a parlous stage. He had already been gently reproved 
 for his weakness but it was not the smart of that 
 disapproval that withheld him. He had begun to fear 
 Clyde s vision yet he was not quite ready to admit 
 her infallible. His self-denial, then, was indicative of 
 an emotional growth. He smiled to himself, a little 
 proud of the accompaniment of its tiny sacrifice. 
 
 Clytie, turning to him, rewarded him with a smile, 
 and, leaning a little, said under her breath : 
 
 "I m so glad that you find me more worth your 
 while." 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 199 
 
 He could but stare at her. Mrs. Page was quick 
 enough to see, if not hear, what had happened; she 
 turned vivaciously to the gentleman in evening dress. 
 
 Granthope exclaimed, "You knew that?" 
 
 "Ah, it is only with you that I can do it." She 
 seemed to be more confused at the incident than he. 
 "I know so much more than I ever dare speak of," 
 she added. 
 
 This did not weaken her spell. 
 
 She continued : "Do you remember what you said, 
 when you read my palm, about my being willing to 
 make an exaggerated confession of motives, rather 
 than seem to be hypocritical, or unable to see my own 
 faults?" 
 
 He did not remember, but he dared not say so. 
 He waited a fraction of a second too long before he 
 said: 
 
 "Certainly I remember." 
 
 She looked hard at him and mentally he cowered 
 under her clear gaze. Then her brows drew slightly 
 together with a puzzled expression, as if she wondered 
 Why he should take the trouble to lie about so small 
 a matter. But this passed, and she did not arraign his 
 sincerity. 
 
 "Well, what I want you to know now is that I 
 don t consider myself any better than she is. Do you 
 know what I mean? I don t condemn her. Oh, dear, 
 I m so inarticulate ! I hope you understand !" 
 
 "I think I do," he answered, but he could not help 
 speculating as to the definiteness of her perception. 
 She answered his question unasked. 
 
 "I get things only vaguely that s one reason why 
 I could not judge a person upon the evidence of my 
 
200 THE HEART LINE 
 
 intuition I couldn t tell you, for instance, exactly 
 what happened between you two just now. I know 
 only that I was disturbed, and that you, somehow, 
 reassured me." 
 
 "But you were more precise about what happened 
 up-stairs." He was still at a loss to fix her limitations. 
 
 "Oh, there I pieced it out a little. Shall I confess? 
 I knew you well enough to fill in the picture. I know 
 something of her, too." 
 
 "Witch !" 
 
 "You re a wizard to make me confess !" she replied, 
 brightly shining on him. "I don t often speak. It s 
 usually very disagreeable to know so much of people 
 indeed, I often combat it and refuse to see. But 
 with you it s different." 
 
 "It s not disagreeable?" 
 
 "No, it is disagreeable usually. It makes me feel 
 priggish to mention it, too, but, with you, the impulse 
 to speak is as strong as the revelation itself; that s 
 the strangest part of it." 
 
 This confession gave him a new sense of power, for 
 he saw that, sensitive as was her intuition, he con 
 trolled and appropriated it. It had already occurred to 
 him what splendid use he might make of her, com 
 pelling such assistance as she could render. Vistas 
 of ambition had opened to his fancy. For him, as a 
 mere adventurer, her clairvoyance might reinforce his 
 scheming most successfully. With her he could play 
 his game as with a new queen on the chess-board. But 
 he saw now how absurd was the possibility of har 
 nessing her to such projects. He was, in fact, a little 
 dazzled by the prospect she suggested. As he corrected 
 that mistake with a blush for his worldly innocence, he 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 201 
 
 saw what the game with her alone could be his game 
 transferred from the plane of chicanery to the level 
 of an intimate friendship or even love. He saw how 
 she would play it, how she would hold his interest, 
 keeping him intellectually alive with the subtlety of 
 her character. 
 
 So far he had not taken her seriously; he had 
 reveled in the possibility of a love affair, but he had 
 not even contemplated the possibility of a permanent 
 alliance. As Madam Spoil had said, he had had his 
 pick of women and each had ended by boring him. 
 Granthope, besides, with all his delight in strategy, 
 was modest, and desire for social establishment had not 
 entered into his plans. He had accepted Clytie as one 
 of a different world, desirable and even tempting, but 
 not at all as one who would change either his theory or 
 his mode of life. But now, with a sudden turn, his 
 thoughts turned to marriage with her. Madam Spoil s 
 words leaped to his memory she had said that it was 
 possible. This idea came as the final explosion of a 
 long, tumescent agitation. He looked at Clytie with 
 new eyes. His ambition soared. 
 
 The meal went on in a succession of bizarre courses 
 seaweed soup, shark s fins, duck s eggs, fried goose 
 and roasted sucking pig, boiled bamboo sprouts to 
 bird s nests and mysterious dishes with rice gin and 
 citron wine. The company was rollicking now; even 
 the gentleman in black evening dress was laughing, 
 and, goaded on by the irrepressible Mrs. Page, had 
 taken a large crown of gold paper, cut into rich pat 
 terns and decorated with colored trimmings, from its 
 place in the center of the table and had set it upon 
 his bald head. The walls of the dining-room were 
 
202 THE HEART LINE 
 
 covered with a row of paper costumes, elaborate robes 
 used by the Chinese tongs in their triennial festival 
 of the dead. They were of all colors, decorated with 
 cut paper or painted in dragon designs with rainbow 
 borders and gold mons. Mrs. Page tore one from 
 the wainscot and wrapped it about her partner s 
 shoulders. Fernigan gibbered a fantastic allegiance 
 before him; Keith, he of the white nose, called for 
 a speech. Over all this mirth the clashing cymbals, 
 the rattling tom-toms and squeaking two-stringed fid 
 dles kept up an uncouth accompaniment. Granthope, 
 so far, had been a quiet observer, but when at Clytie s 
 request he removed his wig and false mustache, he 
 was recognized by Frankie Dean, who sat further 
 up the table. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Granthope," she cried out. "Won t you 
 please read my hand?" 
 
 Every one turned to him. Clytie watched him to 
 see what he would do. Mrs. Maxwell, at the head of 
 the table, obviously annoyed at this indelicacy, sought 
 to rescue him. 
 
 "I promised Mr. Granthope that he wouldn t be 
 asked," she interposed, smiling with difficulty. 
 
 "Office hours from ten till four," Fernigan an 
 nounced. The guests tittered. 
 
 Granthope arose calmly and walked up to the young 
 lady s side, taking her hand. Then he turned to his 
 sarcastic tormentor. 
 
 "This is one of the rewards of my profession," he 
 said, smiling graciously. "I assure you I don t often 
 get a chance to hold such a beautiful hand as this." 
 
 Clytie got a glance across to him, and in it he read 
 her approval. He bent to the girl s palm gravely : 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 203 
 
 "I see by your clothes-line," he said, "that you have 
 much taste and dress well. Your fish-line shows that 
 you have extraordinary luck in catching anything you 
 want. There are many victories along your line of 
 march. There is a pronounced line of beauty here; 
 in fact, all your lines are cast in pleasant places. You 
 will have a very good hand at whatever game you 
 play, and whoever is fortunate enough to marry you 
 will surely take the palm." 
 
 He retired gracefully, followed by laughter and 
 applause, and was not troubled by more requests. 
 Clytie whispered to him: 
 
 "I think you saved yourself with honor. It was 
 a test, but I was sure of you !" 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell, immensely relieved, almost immedi 
 ately gave the signal for the ladies to leave. After 
 the men had reseated themselves, heavy Chinese pipes 
 with small bowls were passed about. Most of the 
 guests tried a few puffs of the mild tobacco, and then 
 reached for cigarettes or cigars. As the doors to 
 the drawing-room were shut they drew closer together 
 and began to talk more freely. 
 
 Blanchard Cayley came over and sat down beside 
 Granthope in Clytie s empty chair. He, too, had taken 
 off his wig. His smile was ingratiating, his voice 
 was suave, as he said: 
 
 "I don t want to make you talk shop if you don t 
 care to, Granthope, but I d like to know if you ever 
 heard of reading the character by thumb-prints. I 
 don t know exactly what you d call it papilamancy, 
 perhaps." 
 
 "I don t think it has ever been done, but I don t 
 see why it shouldn t be," said Granthope, amused. 
 
204 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "What is necessary to make it a science?" 
 
 Granthope, quicker with women than with men, 
 was at a loss to see what Cayley was driving at, but 
 he suspected a trap, and foresaw that his science was 
 to be impugned. He countermined: 
 
 "Oh, first of all, a classification and a terminology," 
 he suggested. Cayley was caught neatly. He was 
 more ignorant than he knew. 
 
 "Why don t you classify the markings then? I 
 should think it might be considered a logical develop 
 ment of chiromancy." 
 
 "One reason is, because they have already been clas 
 sified by Galton. I ve forgotten most of it, but I 
 remember some of the primary divisions. Have you 
 a pencil?" 
 
 Cayley unbuttoned and threw open his plum-colored, 
 long-steeved dun/ disclosing evening dress under 
 neath, and produced a pencil which he gave to the 
 palmist. Granthope smoothed out his paper napkin, 
 and, as he talked, drew illustrative diagrams upon it. 
 
 "You see, the identification of thumb-prints is made 
 by means of the characteristic involution of the 
 nucleus and its envelope. One needs only a few 
 square millimeters of area. There are three primary 
 nuclei arches, whorls and loops. Each has variously 
 formed cores. The arch, for instance, may be tented 
 or forked so. The whorls may be circular or spiral. 
 The loops may be nascent, invaded or crested, and 
 may contain either a single or several rods, as they are 
 called. Let me see your thumb, please. You have a 
 banded, duplex, spiral whorl. It was there when you 
 were born, it will be the same in form when you die. 
 Mine is an invaded loop with three rods." 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 205 
 
 He saw by Cayley s face that he had scored. Such 
 technical detail was, in point of fact, Cayley s penchant, 
 and he was interested. Granthope proceeded: 
 
 "Almost every distinguishing characteristic of the 
 human body has been used at one time or another] 
 for divination or interpretation, as I suppose you 
 know." 
 
 Cayley saw an opening. "But what do you think! 
 the reading of moles, for instance, amounts to, really?" 
 
 "The reading of them, very little, of course. But 
 the location of them, a good deal." 
 
 "Ah," said Cayley, "I thought so. Then you affirm 
 an esoteric basis with regard to such interpretations? 
 You think that a mass of absolute knowledge has been 
 conserved, coming down from no one knows where, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 "There are several ways of looking at it," Grant- 
 hope answered him. He threw himself back in his 
 chair and gathered the company in with his eyes. 
 "One theory, as you know, is that palmistry derives its 
 authority from the fact that the lines are produced by; 
 the opening and closing of the hand originally, at 
 least the fundamental markings being inherited, as 
 are our fundamental mental characteristics and that 
 such alteration of the tissue is directly affected by the 
 character. One stamps his own particular way o 
 doing things upon his palm. Using the right hand 
 most, more is shown there that is individually charac 
 teristic. Of course this theory will not apply to the dis 
 tribution of moles upon the body. But it seems to me 
 that every part of an organic growth must be consistent 
 with the whole, and with what governs it. Everything 
 about a person must necessarily be characteristic of the 
 
206 THE HEART LINE 
 
 individual. There are really no such things as ac 
 cidents, if we except scars. We recognize that in 
 studying physiognomy, and, to a certain extent, in 
 phrenology. It is suggested less intelligibly in a per 
 son s gait, gesture and pose. Everything that is 
 distinctive must be significant, if only we have the 
 power of interpreting it. Of course we have not that 
 power as yet. Palmistry, being the most obvious and 
 striking method, has been more fully developed. A 
 great amount of data has been collected upon the 
 subject, and every good palmist is continually adding 
 to that material. But I believe that, to a possible 
 higher intelligence, any part of a man s body would 
 reveal his character since every specialized partial 
 manifestation of himself must be correlated with every 
 other part and the whole. How else could it be? 
 An infinite experience would draw a man s mental 
 and physical portrait, for instance, from a single toe, 
 as it is possible for a scientist to portray a whole ex 
 tinct animal from a single bone. I think that there can 
 be, in short, no possible divergence from type without 
 a reason for it; and that reason is the same one that 
 molded his character." 
 
 "But that doesn t explain prognostication of the fu 
 ture." By this time the animus of Cayley s attack 
 had died out. He was now impersonally interested. 
 
 "No scientific palmist attempts to give more 
 than possibilities. He must combine with the 
 signs in the hands a certain amount of psychology 
 a knowledge of the tendencies of human nature 
 in order to predict. But, after all, his diagnosis, when 
 it is logical, is as accurate as that of the ordinary phy 
 sician, and the risk is less serious. How many doctors 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 207 
 
 look wise and take serious chances or prescribe bread- 
 pills ? There s guess-work enough in all professions." 
 
 By this time the two had been joined by several 
 others who hung over them in a group, listening. Fer- 
 nigan interjected: 
 
 "That s right! Even Blanchard has to guess what 
 he s talking about most of the time !" 
 
 "And you have to guess whether you re sober or 
 not!" said slim Keith with the white nose. 
 
 "When you talk about the probable tendencies of 
 human nature, you don t know what you re up 
 against," said Cayley, retreating. "San Francisco is 
 a town where people are likely to do anything. There s 
 no limit, no predicting for them. They were buying 
 air-ship stock on the street down at Lotta s fountain, 
 the last thing I heard." 
 
 The old gentleman in evening dress, still wearing 
 his Chinese paper crown, took him up enthusiastically. 
 
 "You can be more foolish here without getting into 
 the insane asylum than any place on earth, but you 
 have to be a thoroughbred spiritualist before you can 
 really call yourself bug-house. Look at old man Ben 
 nett! You couldn t make anything up he wouldn t 
 believe !" 
 
 "What about him ?" said Cayley. "I would like to 
 have him for my collection of freaks." 
 
 "Oh, he was a furniture manufacturer here. I 
 knew him well, but I forget the details. It was some 
 thing fierce though, the way they worked him." 
 
 Granthope smiled. "I can tell you something about 
 Bennett," he offered. "I happened to hear the whole 
 story nearly at first hand." 
 
 "Let s have it," Cayley proposed. 
 
208 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Granthope leaned back in his chair and began, rather 
 pleased at having an audience. 
 
 "Why, he went to investigating spiritualism and fell 
 into the hands of a man named Harry Wing and a 
 gang of mediums here. They won Bennett over to a 
 firm belief, step by step, till he was the dupe of every 
 ghost that appeared in the materializing circles, which 
 cost him twenty-five dollars an evening, by the way. 
 One man that helped Wing out, played spirit, pre 
 tended to be his dead son, and used to ask him for 
 jewelry so that he could dematerialize it, and then 
 rematerialize it for identification. If Bennett went 
 down to Los Angeles he d take the same train and 
 turn up at a circle there, proving he was the same spirit 
 by the rings that had been given him up here. Well, 
 Bennett got so strong for it that after a while they 
 didn t bother with cabinets and dark seances the 
 players used to walk right in the door. Then they d 
 tell him that, as partly materialized spirits, they ought 
 to have dinner to increase their magnetism, and he d 
 send out for chicken and wine. Finally they got him 
 so they d point out people on the street and assert that 
 they were spirits. The prettiest test was when they 
 materialized Cleopatra. I ve never seen the Egyptian 
 queen, but she certainly wasn t a bit prettier than the , 
 girl who played her part. Bennett, as an extraordinary 
 test of her strength, was allowed to take her out to the 
 Cliff House in a hack. The curtains of the carriage 
 had to be pulled down to keep the daylight from 
 burning her." 
 
 "Oh, Cliff House, what crimes have been committed 
 in thy name!" Fernigan murmured. 
 
 "Next, they made Bennett believe that his influence 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 209 
 
 was so valuable in accustoming spirits to earth-con 
 ditions, that they were going to reveal a new bible to 
 him, with all the errors and omissions corrected, and 
 he would go down to posterity as its author. In 
 return, he was to help civilize the planet Jupiter. You 
 see, Jupiter being an exterior planet was behind the 
 earth in culture. Bennett contributed all sorts of agri 
 cultural implements and furniture to be dematerialized 
 and sent to Jupiter, there to be rematerialized and used 
 as patterns. Wing even got him to contribute a five 
 hundred dollar carriage for the same purpose. It 
 was sold by the gang for seventy-five dollars, and even 
 when it was shown to Bennett by his friends, who were 
 trying to save him, he wouldn t believe it was the same 
 one. They milked him out of every cent at last, and 
 he died bankrupt." 
 
 Granthope had scarcely finished his story when the 
 drawing-room doors were half opened and Mrs. Page 
 appeared on the threshold pouting. 
 
 "Aren t you ever coming in here?" she exclaimed 
 petulantly. "You might let us have Mr. Granthope, 
 at least." 
 
 The men rose and sauntered in, one by one. 
 
 Granthope had but a moment in which to reflect 
 upon what he had done, but in that moment he regret 
 ted his indiscretion in telling the Bennett story. He 
 had not been able to resist the opportunity to make 
 himself interesting and agreeable ; now he wondered 
 what price he would have to pay for it. The next 
 moment his speculations vanished at the sight of 
 Clyde. 
 
 He went directly to her and sat down. Although 
 the party was dispersed in little groups, the conversa- 
 
210 THE HEART LINE 
 
 tion had become more or less general, and he had no 
 chance to talk to her alone. He received her smile, 
 however, and she favored him with as much of her 
 talk as was possible. 
 
 As she sat there, with relaxed grace that was almost 
 languor, she made the other women in the room look 
 either negligently lolling or awkwardly conscious. He 
 noticed how some of them showed the fabled western 
 influence of environment by the frank abandon of their 
 pose, how others held themselves rigidly, as if aware 
 of their own lack, and sought, by stern attention, to 
 conceal it. Clyde s head was poised proudly, her hands 
 fell from her slender wrists like drooping flowers. 
 Her whole body was faultlessly composed, unified 
 with harmonious lines, as if a masterly portrait were 
 gently roused into life. 
 
 Fernigan now began, upon request, a Chinese par 
 ody, accompanied by absurd pantomime. Granthope 
 could not bear it, and, seeing Clytie still busy with her 
 admirers, slipped out of the room and went up to the 
 library. 
 
 Mr. Maxwell s books were rare and carefully select 
 ed, a treat for such an amateur as Granthope. He 
 went from case to case fingering the volumes, opening 
 and glancing through one after another. The pursuit 
 kept him longer than he had intended. 
 
 There was a smaller room off the library, used as 
 a study and shut off by a portiere. Granthope, stand 
 ing near the entrance, suddenly heard the sound of 
 swishing skirts and footsteps, then the subdued, modu 
 lated voices of two women. With no intention at first 
 of eavesdropping, he kept on with his perusal of the 
 book in his hand. The first part of the conversation he 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 211 
 
 remembered rather than listened to, but it soon at 
 tracted his alert attention. 
 
 "I think it s a rather extraordinary thing, Mrs. 
 Maxwell s asking him, though, don t you?" one of 
 the ladies said. 
 
 The reply was in a gentle and more sympathetic 
 voice : "Oh, she wanted an attraction, I suppose, and 
 he s really very good-looking, you know." 
 
 "He s handsome enough, but he s too much like a 
 matinee hero for me ; my dear, he s absolutely impos 
 sible, really! He s not the sort of person one cares 
 to meet more than once. He s beyond the pale." 
 
 "It s rather cruel to invite him just to show him 
 off, I think. In a way, he had to accept." 
 
 "Oh, I expect he s only too glad to come." 
 
 "I wonder how he feels! Do you suppose he has 
 any idea that he s out of his element? It must be 
 strange to be willing to accept an invitation when you 
 know you are, after all, only a sort of freak." 
 
 "Don t worry. A charlatan has to have a pretty 
 thick skin no doubt he ll make use of all of us, and 
 brag about his acquaintance. That s his business, you 
 know ; he has to advertise himself." 
 
 "I know ; but every man has his own sense of dig 
 nity, and it must be somewhat mortifying no self- 
 respecting coal-heaver would accept such an invitation 
 his pride would keep him from it." 
 
 "I don t see how a man like that can have much 
 pride. A coal-heaver has, after all, a dignified way of 
 earning his living. This man hasn t. His trade can t 
 permit him to be self-respecting. It s more undignified 
 than any honest labor would be. Why, he lives by 
 trickery and flatter} , and now he s beginning to toady, 
 
212 THE HEART LINE 
 
 too. Just look at the way he is after Clytie Payson, 
 already." 
 
 "Yes, I can t see why she permits it, but she seems 
 to be positively fascinated by him. Isn t it strange 
 how a fine girl like that is usually the most easily 
 deceived? Did you see the way she was looking at 
 him at supper? That told the story. Of course, you d 
 expect it of Mrs. Page, but not of Cly." 
 
 "Don t you believe it! Cly s no fool she sees 
 through him. He s interesting, you can t deny that ; 
 and you know that a clever man can get about any 
 thing he wants in this town. There are too few of 
 them to go round, and so they re all spoiled. But 
 Cly s only playing him." 
 
 "You don t think she s deliberately fooling him, do 
 you?" 
 
 "Nonsense ! I know Cly as well as you do. She 
 would always play fair enough, of course, but that 
 doesn t prevent her wanting to study a new specimen, 
 especially one as attractive as Granthope. But it won t 
 last long. Cly s too honest. It s likely that he ll go 
 too far and take advantage of her then she ll call him 
 down and dismiss him." 
 
 "Do you think he imagines that he could really " 
 began the other. 
 
 "Oh, he s no fool either! He knows perfectly well 
 where he belongs, but he s working his chances while 
 they last." 
 
 Granthope had been deliberately listening and, as 
 the last words came to his ears, his emotion burst into 
 flame. This, then, was how he was regarded by the 
 new circle into which he had been admitted. He was a 
 curiosity, handsome, but beyond the pale even Clytie, 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 213 
 
 it was probable, was willing to amuse herself with 
 him. The illumination it gave him as to his status was 
 vivid, its radiance scorched him. 
 
 He had never caught this point of view before. He 
 had been too interested in his emergence from obscuri 
 ty, he had even congratulated himself upon his increas 
 ing success. Now he saw that the further he went 
 on that road the further away from Clytie he would 
 be he saw the chasm that separated them. His undig 
 nified profession appeared to him for the first time in 
 its true aspect. The humiliation and mortification of 
 that revelation was sickening. He had not believed 
 that it was possible for him to suffer over anything so 
 keenly. The insults he had received, produced, after 
 a poigna>nt moment of despair, an energetic reaction. 
 His fighting instinct was awakened. He had achieved 
 a certain control of himself, he had a social poise and 
 assurance that kindled his mind at the prospect of 
 an encounter. 
 
 He drew aside the portiere and walked bojdly into 
 the little room. 
 
 Two ladies were sitting there, picturesque in their 
 costumes. Their rainbow-hued garments showed a 
 bizarre blotch of color in the quiet monochrome of the 
 place. Their faces were whitened with powder, their 
 eyebrows blackened to the willow-curve, their lips 
 lined with red they looked, in the half-light, like 
 fantastic, exotic Pierrettes. As they caught sight of 
 him they started up with surprise, almost with fear. 
 Granthope bowed with a quiet smile, perfectly master 
 of himself. 
 
 "I want to apologize for having overheard your 
 conversation," he said. "I must confess that I was 
 
214 THE HEART LINE 
 
 eavesdropping. My business is, you know, to read 
 character for others, and I don t often have a chance 
 to hear my own so well described. I m much obliged 
 to you, I m sure." 
 
 He had the whip-hand now. There was nothing for 
 them to say; they said nothing, staring at him, their 
 lips parted. 
 
 He walked through to the door of the hall and there 
 paused like an actor making his exit from the stage. 
 A cynical smile still floated on his lips. He had never 
 looked more handsome, with his black hair, his clean- 
 cut head, and his fine, deep eyes that looked them 
 over calmly, without haste. His costume became him 
 and he wore it well. Now, as he raised his hand, the 
 long sleeve of his olive green coat fell a little away 
 from his fingers. Below, his lavender trousers 
 gleamed softly. It was a queer draping for his serious 
 pose. It was a strangely figured pair that he addressed 
 as they sat, embarrassed, immovable in their splendid 
 silken garments. 
 
 He added more gently, with no trace of sarcasm 
 in his smooth voice : "I would like to tell you, if it is 
 any satisfaction for you to know, that your operation 
 has been successful. It was rather painful, without 
 the anesthetic of kindness, but I shall recover. I think 
 I may even be better for it, perhaps restored to health 
 who knows !" Then his smile became enigmatic ; 
 he left them and went down the stairs. 
 
 He made his way to Clytie with a new assurance ; 
 inexplicably to him, some innate power, long in re 
 serve, had risen to meet the emergency. He was 
 exhilarated, as with a victory. She looked up at him 
 puzzled. 
 
SIDE LIGHTS 215 
 
 "I wonder if you know what has happened this 
 time?" he said. 
 
 "Oh, if I only did! Something has you have 
 changed, somehow." 
 
 "Is it an improvement?" 
 
 "You know, it is my theory that you re going to " 
 She gave up her explanation her lips quivered. 
 "Well, yes! You have been embarrassed?" 
 
 "I suppose it was good for my vanity." 
 
 "Then you have heard something unpleasant." 
 
 "The truth often is." 
 
 "Was it true?" 
 
 He laughed it off. "It was nothing I mightn t have 
 known." 
 
 "Then it is for you to make it false, isn t it?" 
 
 "If I can." 
 
 "I think there is nothing you couldn t do if you 
 tried." 
 
 "There is nothing I couldn t do if I had your help," 
 he answered. 
 
 For answer, she took the little gold heart-shaped 
 bottle from its mesh-work and handed it to him. 
 
 "You must learn but perhaps this may help you. 
 Will you keep it?" 
 
 He took it and thanked her with his eyes. Then, 
 their dialogue being interrupted, he moved off. He 
 wandered about, speaking to one and another for a 
 few moments, gradually drifting toward the hall. 
 
 As he stood just outside the reception-room he 
 glanced up the broad stairs carelessly, thinking of the 
 two ladies to whom he had spoken. He smiled to him 
 self, wondering if they had yet come down. While he 
 Was watching, he saw a woman at the top of the 
 
216 THE HEART LINE 
 
 stairs, looking over the rail. A second glance showed 
 her to be a servant. She descended slowly, and, in a 
 moment, beckoned stealthily. He paid no attention. 
 
 She came nearer, and, finally, seeing no one with 
 him, called out to him in a whisper. It was Lucie, 
 Mrs. Maxwell s maid. The moment Granthope recog 
 nized her, he walked into the parlors again, as if he 
 had not noticed her. 
 
 Soon after that he paid his farewell amenities to 
 his hostess and went up to where he had left his hat 
 and coat. Lucie was in the upper hall waiting for 
 him. 
 
 "Mr. Granthope," she whispered, "may I speak to 
 you a moment? I have something." 
 
 "Not now," he said, passing on. 
 
 She plucked at his sleeve. "I ve got a great story/ 
 she insisted. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "Shall I come down to your office?" 
 
 "Be quiet!" he said under his breath, and went 
 in for his things. 
 
 She was waiting for him when he emerged. 
 
 "I ll come down as soon as I can get off," she con 
 tinued. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders without looking at her t 
 and went down-stairs, and out 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 
 
 Madam Spoil was sitting in her study on Eddy 
 Street, awaiting her victim, when Francis Granthope, 
 immaculate as usual, appeared in her doorway, having 
 been admitted by Spoil. She was in front of the 
 glass, pinning on a lace collar. 
 
 "Hello, Frank," she said cordially, looking over hef 
 shoulder, "you re a sight for sore eyes! We don t 
 see much of you, nowadays." 
 
 "I ve been pretty busy, lately," he answered, sitting 
 down and looking about with an expression of ill- 
 concealed distaste. The stuffy, crowded room seemed 
 more unpleasant than ever, after his evening at the 
 Maxwells . Madam Spoil seemed more gross. Every 
 thing that had been familiar to him had somehow 
 changed. He seemed to have a different angle of vis 
 ion. It was close and warm, and the air smelled of 
 dust. 
 
 "You ain t a-going to forget your old friends, now 
 you ve got in with the four hundred, are you, Frank ?" 
 she said earnestly. 
 
 He pulled out a cigarette-case and lit a cigarette. 
 As he struck the match he answered: 
 
 "Not if they don t meddle in my affairs." He gazed 
 at her coolly as he inhaled a puff of smoke and sent 
 a ring across the room. 
 
 Madam Spoil s face grew stern. "That s no way to 
 talk, Frank. I ve been the same as a mother to 
 
 217 
 
218 THE HEART LINE 
 
 you, in times past, ever since you went into business, 
 in fact. It looks like you was getting too good for us." 
 
 "Why, what s the matter now ?" 
 
 "Oh, you re so stand-off, nowadays." 
 
 He laughed uneasily. "You always said I was 
 spoiled." 
 
 "Well, who s spoiling you now? Miss Payson?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "You know, well enough! Lord, why don t you 
 come out with it! It s all in the family, ain t it? 
 You ve got her on the string, all right, ain t you ?" 
 
 "I have not." The frown grew deeper in his fore 
 head. 
 
 "H m!" She drew a long breath. "Well, that 
 means we ll have to begin at the beginning, then, I 
 expect. I had a sort of an idea that you had got her 
 going, and wouldn t mind saying so, but if you re 
 going to go to work and be mysterious, why, I ll have 
 to talk straight business." She pointed at him with 
 her pudgy finger. "Now, see here, she s been writing 
 to you, anyways. You can t deny that." 
 
 "What makes you think so?" 
 
 "I don t think anything at all about it; I know. 
 W T hat d you take me for? A Portugee cook? It s my 
 business to know all about the Paysons, that s all. 
 Very good." 
 
 Granthope looked more concerned, and eyed her sus 
 piciously. 
 
 "There s only one way for you to have found that 
 out," he said. "And that reminds me. I want to 
 get those notes I gave you about her when you were 
 up at my place. I didn t keep a copy, and I ve forgot 
 ten some of the details that I need." 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 2*9 
 
 Madam Spoil raised her eyebrows, also her shoul 
 ders, and made an inarticulate noise in her throat. 
 "Funny you need them so bad all of a sudden. Not 
 that they done us much good we ve found out a lot 
 for ourselves ; about all we need for the present" 
 
 "Well, I haven t interfered with your game, and 
 I don t see why you should interfere with mine. Only, 
 I d like those memoranda back, please." His tone was 
 almost peremptory. 
 
 "I m sorry, but I ain t got em." 
 
 "Where are they?" 
 
 "Why, I give em to Vixley." 
 
 Granthope saw that it was no use to go further. 
 He had, in spite of his precautions, already aroused 
 her suspicions, and so he pretended to consider the 
 matter of no moment. Madam Spoil, however, was 
 now thoroughly aroused. 
 
 "What I want to know, Frank, is whether you re 
 with us or not." 
 
 "I thought the understanding was that we were to 
 work separately." 
 
 "Separately and together. Mutual exchange and 
 actual profit, for each and for all. We got a mighty 
 good thing in Payson, me and Vixley have, and we 
 propose to work it for all it s worth. It ll be for your 
 interest to come in and help us out. True, you have 
 done something, but now you re lallagagging, so to 
 speak, when you might be making a big haul. Pay- 
 son s easy, and we can steer the girl your way, through 
 him. He ll believe anything. All we got to do is 
 to say my guides want him to have you for a son-in- 
 law, and the trick is as good as turned. I agree to 
 get him started this afternoon. He s a ten-to-one shot. 
 
220 THE HEART LINE 
 
 I can see that with half an eye. It ll only be up to 
 you to make good with the girl, and Lord knows that ll 
 be easy for you. Now is tliat straight enough for 
 you?" 
 
 Granthope rose and began to pace the floor nerv 
 ously. He paused to straighten some magazines upon 
 the table, he adjusted a photograph upon the wall, he 
 moved back a chair ; then he turned to her and said : 
 
 "I don t see how there s anything in this for me. 
 I m through with all that sort of thing, and I think, 
 on the whole, I ll stay out. I m going in for straight 
 palmistry and well, another kind of game altogether. 
 You wouldn t understand it even if I explained. I ve 
 got a good start, now, and I don t want to queer 
 myself." 
 
 Madam Spoil made a theatrical gesture of surprise. 
 "Lord, Frank, who would have thought of you doing 
 the Sunday-school superintendent act on me ! A body 
 would think you d never faked in your life ! My Lord, 
 I m trying to lead you astray, am I ?" 
 
 "That s all right. I don t pretend to be very virtu 
 ous, but some of this is getting a little raw for me." 
 
 Madam Spoil opened her eyes and her mouth. 
 "What s got into you, anyway?" 
 
 "Something s got out, perhaps," he said, frowning. 
 "At any rate, I don t care to make use of Miss Payson 
 to help you rob her father." 
 
 "Rob her father !" Outraged innocence throbbed in 
 Madam Spoil s voice. "Lord, Frank, you re plumb 
 crazy ! Why, he won t spend no money he don t want 
 to, will he? He can afford it well enough! He ll 
 never miss what we get out of him. You might think 
 I was going to pick his pockets, the way you talk." 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 221 
 
 She took him by the arm. "See here! You ain t 
 really stuck on that Payson girl, are you? Why, if 
 I didn t know you so well, I d be almost ready to sus 
 pect you of it ! But land, you ve had women running 
 after you ever since you went into business! But I 
 notice you don t often stay away from the office more n 
 two days running." 
 
 "I don t know that my private affairs are any of 
 your business," he said curtly. He was rather glad, 
 now, of the chance for an outright quarrel. 
 
 But she \vould not let it come to that, and continued 
 in a wheedling tone: "Well, this happens to be my 
 business, and I speak to you as a friend, Frank, for 
 your own good as well as mine. You can take it or 
 leave it, of course; I ain t a-going to try and put 
 coercion on to you, and there s time enough to decide 
 when we get Payson wired up. Then I ll talk to you 
 just once more. You just think it over a while, and 
 don t do nothing rash." 
 
 Granthope arose to leave. He was for a more 
 romantic game, himself. The vulgarity here offended 
 him esthetically rather than ethically, and yet he 
 winced at the insinuations Madam Spoil had made. 
 
 "I think I can go it alone," he said; "as for rash 
 ness, I won t promise." 
 
 He had gone but a few minutes when Professor 
 Vixley entered and shook a long lean claw with 
 Madam Spoil, took off his coat and sat down. "Well," 
 he said affably, "how re they coming, Gert?" 
 
 "Oh, so-so; Frank Granthope s just been here." 
 
 "Is that so! Did you get anything out of him?" 
 
 "No. And he wants his Payson notes back again. 
 What d you think of that !" 
 
222 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Vixley crossed his legs, and whistled a low, aston 
 ished note. "We re goin to have trouble with Frank, 
 I expect." 
 
 Madam Spoil s smooth forehead wrinkled. "Frank s 
 a fool ! He s leary of us, and I believe he ll throw us 
 down if we don t look out." 
 
 "Most time to put the screws on, ain t it?" 
 
 "I don t know ; we ll see. We can go it alone for 
 a while. Wait till we really need him and I ll guaran 
 tee to make him mind. He s got the society bug so 
 bad I couldn t do anything with him." 
 
 "The more he gets into society the more use he is 
 to us," said Vixley. "He s a pretty smooth article." 
 
 "Do you know, I have an idea he s getting stuck on 
 that Payson girl." 
 
 Vixley cackled. 
 
 "You never can tell," said Madam Spoil. "I believe 
 Frank s got good blood in him. Sooner or later it s 
 bound to come out." 
 
 "Well, if he s after the girl, it ll be easier for us to 
 bring him around. He won t care to be gave away." 
 
 "That s right, and we ll use it. I can see that girl s 
 face when she hears about him crawling through the 
 panel at Harry Wing s to play spook for Bennett." 
 
 "Not to speak of Fancy," Vixley added, grinning. 
 
 To them, Ringa entered. He slunk into a chair 
 beside Vixley, smoothed down his tow hair, stroked 
 his bristling mustache, and allowed his weak gray eyes 
 to drift about the room. 
 
 "Well ?" Madam Spoil queried, giving him a glance 
 over her fat shoulder. 
 
 "I found him all right, and I ve got something. I 
 guess it s worth a dollar, Madam Spoil." 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 223 
 
 "Let s hear it, first," said Vixley. 
 
 "I done the insurance agent act, and I jollied him 
 good." Ringa grinned, showing a hole in his mouth 
 where two front teeth should have been. 
 
 "You jollied him," Vixley showed his yellow teeth. 
 "Lord, you don t look it!" 
 
 "I did though," the pale youth protested. "I conned 
 him for near an hour." 
 
 "You re sure he didn t get on to you ?" Madam Spoil 
 asked, regarding her head sidewise in the glass and 
 patting the blue bow on her throat. 
 
 "Sure! I was a dead ringer for the real-thing 
 agent, and I had the books to show for it. I worked 
 him for an insurance policy." 
 
 "Well? What did he say?" Madam Spoil turned 
 on him like a mighty gun. 
 
 "He was caught between two trains once on the 
 Oakland Mole, and I guess he was squeezed pretty bad. 
 He said it was a close call." 
 
 "That s all right," said Vixley; "we can trim that 
 up in good shape, can t we, Gert ?" 
 
 "It ll do for a starter. Give him a dollar." 
 
 "Anything more to-day?" Ringa asked, rising 
 slowly. 
 
 "No; I ll let you know if I want you," said the 
 Madam. 
 
 Ringa slouched out. 
 
 "I d let that cool off a while till he s forgotten it," 
 Vixley suggested. 
 
 "I ll make him forget it, all right," Madam Spoil 
 returned. "That s my business. You do your part as 
 well as I do mine and you ll be all right." 
 
 "It s only this first part that makes me nervous/ 
 
224 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, he ain t going to catch me in a trap. I got 
 sense enough to put a mouse in first to try it." 
 
 She stood in front of the mirror in the folding-bed, 
 arranging her hair, which had been wet and still 
 glistened with moisture, holding her comb, meanwhile, 
 in her mouth. Professor Vixley tilted back in his 
 plush chair, his head resting against the grease-spot 
 on the wall-paper which indicated his habitual pose. 
 
 "Now don t you go too fast," he said, pulling out a 
 square of chewing-tobacco and biting off a corner. 
 "This here is a-goin to be a delicate operation. Pay- 
 son ain t so easy as Bennett was. Bennett would 
 believe that cows was cucumbers, if we told him so, 
 but this chap is too much on the skeptic. We got to 
 go slow." 
 
 "You leave me alone for that," Madam Spoil replied 
 easily. "I guess I know how to jolly a good thing 
 along. Has he got the money? That s all I want to 
 know about him." 
 
 "He s got money all right. That s a cinch. I m 
 not in this thing for my health. What s more, he s 
 got the writin bug, and I can see a good graft in that." 
 
 "Well, I ll give it a try." 
 
 "No, you better keep your hands off that subject, 
 Gertie. I can work that game better n you. I got it 
 all framed up how I can string him good. I m goin 
 to make that a truly elegant work of art. All you got 
 to do is to get him goin , and then steer him up against 
 me." 
 
 The door-bell rang noisily up-stairs and Mr. Spoil s 
 footsteps were heard going to answer the summons. 
 
 "I guess that s my cue," said Madam Spoil, smiling 
 affably. "I wish I had more magnetism to-day." She 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 225 
 
 shook her hands and snapped her fingers. "I can t 
 stand so much of this as I used to. I can remember 
 when I could get a name every time without fishing 
 for it. But what I ve lost in one way I have learned 
 in another. I m going to give him a run for his 
 money, and don t you forget it." 
 
 Vixley smiled and rubbed his hands. "Go in and 
 win, Gert. I guess I ll take a nap here on the lounge 
 while I m waitin for you, and see if the Doc doesn t 
 come in." 
 
 "All right," she replied; then marched up-stairs 
 and went into action. 
 
 The upper parlor, where she received her patrons 
 for private sittings, was a large room separated from 
 the back part of the house by black walnut double 
 doors. Upon the high-studded walls were draperies 
 of striped oriental stuffs, caught up with tacks and 
 enlivened by colored casts of turbaned Turks heads, 
 most of which were chipped on cheek and on chin, 
 showing irregular patches of white plaster. Upon the 
 mantel chaos reigned, embodied in a mass of minor 
 decorations of all sorts, such as are affected by those 
 who deem that space is only something to be as closely 
 filled as possible. The furniture was cheaply elaborate 
 and formally arranged, running chiefly to purple 
 stamped plush and heavy woolen fringe. The silk 
 curtains in the windows were severely arranged in 
 multitudinous little pleats, fan shaped, drawn in with 
 a pink ribbon at the center. There was scarcely a 
 thing in the room,, from the fret-sawed walnut what 
 not in the corner to the painted tapestry Romeo upon 
 the double doors, that an artist would not writhe at 
 and turn backward. A little ineffective bamboo table 
 
226 THE HEART LINE 
 
 in the center was made a feature of the place, but 
 supported its function with triviality. 
 
 Mr. Payson had just entered, cold and blue from 
 the harsh air outside. He bowed to the seeress. 
 
 She began with the weather, referring to it in 
 obvious commonplaces, eliciting his condemnation o 
 the temperature. She offered to light the gas-log and 
 succeeded, during the conversational skirmish, in draw 
 ing from him the fact that he suffered from rheu 
 matism, especially when the wind was north. 
 
 Madam Spoil allowed the ghost of a smile to haunt 
 her face for a brief moment. "Lucky you ain t got 
 my weight, it gets to you something terrible when 
 you Ye fat. I ain t quite so slim as I used to be." She 
 looked up from the grate coquettishly, marking the 
 effect of her words. 
 
 "Now let s set down and get ready," she said, going 
 over to the frail table and pressing her hands to her 
 forehead. "I ain t in proper condition to-day; I ve 
 been working hard and my magnetism s about wore 
 out. But I ll see what I can do." 
 
 He took a seat opposite her and waited. His atti 
 tude was benignly judicial; his eyes were fixed upon 
 her, through his gold-bowed spectacles. 
 
 "Funny thing how different people are," she began. 
 "Now, I get your condition right off. You ain t at 
 all like the rest of the folks that come here. I get 
 a condition of study, like. I see what you might call 
 books around you everywhere not account-books, 
 but more on the literary. Books and sheep, you under 
 stand. Not live ones! I would say they was more 
 on the dead sheep. Flat ones, too, with hair, like 
 queer, ain t it? Sounds like nonsense I suppose, but 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 227 
 
 that s just what I get. They must be some mistake 
 somehow." She drew her hand across her forehead 
 and snapped the electricity off her finger-tips. Then 
 she rubbed her hands and twisted her mouth. "Do 
 you know what I mean?" 
 
 "Why, it might be wool perhaps ; I have something 
 to do with wool," he offered. 
 
 "Now ain t that strange ? It is wool, as sure s you re 
 born ! I can see what you might call skins and bales 
 of wool. And I get a condition of business, too but 
 not what you might call a retail business. Seems like 
 it was more on the wholesale." 
 
 "Yes, that s right," he assented, nodding. 
 
 "What did I tell you !" she exclaimed. "I do believe 
 I may get something after all, though very often the 
 first time ain t what you might call a success, and 
 sitters are liable to get discouraged. I can tell you 
 only just what my guides give me, you know, and 
 sometimes Luella is pernickerty. She s my chief con 
 trol. You know how it is yourself, for you ll be a 
 man that knows women right down to the ground, 
 and you ve always been a favorite with the ladies, too." 
 
 "Oh, I never knew many women," he said modestly. 
 
 "It ain t the number I m speaking of. It s the hold 
 you had over em, specially when you was a young 
 man. They was women who would do anything you 
 asked them and be glad of the chance; now, wasn t 
 they ? Did you ever know of a party, what you might 
 call a young woman, though not so very young, with 
 the initial C?" She mumbled the letter so that it was 
 not quite distinguishable. 
 
 "G?" he said. "Why, yes ! was that the first name 
 or the last?" 
 
228 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "It seems like it was the first name, the way I get 
 it would it be Grace?" 
 
 This was, of course, a random "fishing test," and 
 she got a bite. 
 
 "My wife s name was Grace." 
 
 She hooked the fact, noticing the tense, and let her 
 line play out to distract his attention temporarily. 
 
 "It don t seem quite like your wife. Seems like it 
 was another woman who you was fond of. Maybe it 
 was meant for the last name. Sometimes my control 
 does get things awfully mixed. Or, it might be a 
 middle initial. You wait a minute and maybe I ll 
 get it stronger." 
 
 "Oh, if it was the last name, I think I recognize it." 
 
 She had another line out and another bite, now, and 
 played to land both, coaxing the truth gently from him. 
 
 "Yes, it s a last name, and she was terrible fond of 
 you. She was in love with you for some time, you 
 understand? And there was some trouble between 
 you." 
 
 "There was, indeed!" Mr. Payson shook his head 
 solemnly. 
 
 The hint now made sure of, she heightened it to 
 make him forget that he himself had given the clue. 
 
 "I get a feeling of worry, and what you might call a 
 misunderstanding. You didn t quite get along with 
 each other and it made a good deal of trouble for you. 
 You was what I might call put out, you understand? 
 She s in the spirit now, ain t she?" 
 
 "Yes ; she died a good many years ago." 
 
 Madam Spoil returned to her first fish and began to 
 reel in. "Your wife s passed out, too, and Luella tells 
 me she s here now. She says Grace was worried, too. 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 229 
 
 But she s happy now and wants you to be. You was 
 a young man then, and yet you have never got over it. 
 .You wasn t rightly understood, was you?" 
 
 Mr. Payson shook his head again. He was listening 
 attentively. 
 
 "But it wan t your fault, do you understand? It 
 was something that couldn t be helped. And some 
 times when you think of this other lady you say to 
 yourself, If she only knew ! If she only knew ! " 
 
 "Yes, I wish she did. It really wasn t my fault." 
 
 Madam Spoil cast more bait into the pool. 
 
 "Now, would her given name be Mary, or something 
 like that?" 
 
 "No it was an uncommon name." 
 
 The medium persisted stubbornly. 
 
 "That s queer. I get the name of Mary very plain." 
 
 "My mother s name was Mary; perhaps you mean 
 her?" 
 
 "It might be your mother, and yet it seems like it 
 was a younger woman. Now, this lady I spoke of had 
 dark hair, didn t she? or you might call it medium 
 sort of half-way between light and dark." 
 
 "No, -she had white hair." 
 
 Another fish was on the hook. Madam Spoil had got 
 what she wanted. This admission of Mr. Payson s, 
 coupled with the fact Granthope had discovered, that 
 Clytie had visited the crazy woman, identified the old 
 man s first love, she thought, effectually. She kept this 
 for subsequent use, however. It would not do, as 
 Vixley had said, to go too fast. 
 
 "Then this Mary must be some one else," she said. 
 "You may not recognize her now, but you probably 
 will. I can t do your thinking for you, you know. It 
 
230 THE HEART LINE 
 
 may possibly be that you ll meet her some day; at 
 any rate, my guides tell me you must be careful and 
 don t sign no papers for Mary. I don t know whether 
 she s in the spirit or not. You may understand it and 
 you may not. All I can do is to give you what I get." 
 
 Madam Spoil now became absorbed in a sort of 
 reverie. When at last she emerged it was with this: 
 
 "I see your mother and your wife now, and I get 
 the words, It s a pity Oliver couldn t marry her/ I 
 don t know what they mean at all." 
 
 "I understand. I was intending to marry another 
 woman, the one you spoke of just now, but some 
 thing prevented." 
 
 "That must be it. My guide tells me that something 
 dreadful happened, and it was what you might call 
 hushed up and you separated from her." 
 
 "It was not my fault." 
 
 "I get a little child, too" Mr. Payson grew still 
 more absorbed. The medium noticed his instant 
 reaction in eyes, mouth and hands. On the strength 
 of that evidence, she took the risk of saying: 
 
 "The child was the lady s with the white hair." 
 
 "What about it?" demanded Mr. Payson. 
 
 "I see the child standing by a lady who grew gray 
 very young, you understand. And now they re both 
 gone. Was you ever interested in Sacramento or 
 somewhere east of here?" 
 
 "Stockton?" he asked. "I lived there for a while." 
 
 "That s it. I see a river, and steamboats coming in, 
 and there s the child again." 
 
 "A boy or a girl?" 
 
 She hesitated for a moment to dart a glance at him 
 as swift as an arrow. Then she risked it. "A girl." 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 231 
 
 He drew a long breath. "I don t quite understand." 
 
 "It certainly is a little girl, and she s with the lady 
 with the gray hair. But wait a minute. Now I get a 
 little boy, and he s crying." 
 
 "Where is he?" came eagerly from Payson s lips. 
 
 "He s on this side. He s alive. I ll ask my guide." 
 She plunged into another stupor, then shook herself, 
 rubbed her forehead, wrung her hands. 
 
 "I can t get it quite strong enough to-day, but I ll 
 find out later. He seems to be mixed up with you, 
 some way, not in what you might call business, but 
 more personally. You re worried about him." 
 
 Mr. Payson, with a shrug of his shoulders, appeared 
 to disclaim this. 
 
 "Yes, you are! You may not realize it, but you 
 are. The time will come when you understand what 
 I mean. Now you re too much interested in other 
 things. Your mind is way off toward New York, 
 like, or in that direction." 
 
 He looked puzzled. 
 
 "Maybe it ain t as far as New York, but it s some 
 where around there, and I see books and printing 
 presses. Do you have anything to do with printing?" 
 
 This he also disclaimed. 
 
 "Funny!" she persisted. "I get you by a printing- 
 press looking at a book and then I see you at a table 
 writing." 
 
 "I have done some writing, but it has never been 
 printed." 
 
 "Well, it will be ! My guide tells me that you have 
 a great talent for literary writing, and it could be 
 developed to a great success. 
 
 "Now," she added, "you let me hold your hands a 
 
232 THE HEART LINE 
 
 while till I get the magnetism stronger. Just hold 
 them firm that s right. Lord, you needn t squeeze 
 them quite so hard !" She beamed upon him with 
 obvious coquetry. "Now I m going into a trance. I 
 don t know whether Luella will come, or maybe little 
 Eva. Eva s the cunningest little tot and as bright as 
 a dollar. She s awful cute. You mustn t mind any 
 thing she says or does, though. Sometimes, I admit, 
 she mortifies me, when sitters tell me what she s been 
 up to. I ve known her to sit on men s laps and kiss 
 em and hug em, like she was their own daughter, 
 but Lord, she don t know any better. She s innocent 
 as a baby." 
 
 His face grew harder as she said this, but she 
 proceeded, nevertheless, with her experiment, closing 
 her eyes and sitting for a while in silence. Then her 
 muscles twitched violently; she squirmed and wrig 
 gled her shoulders. Finally she spoke, in a high, 
 squeaky falsetto, a fair ventriloquistic imitation of a 
 child s voice. 
 
 "Good afternoon, Mr. Payson, I m little Eva! I 
 brought you some flowers, but you can t see em, 
 cause they re spirit flowers. You don t look very 
 well. Ain t you feelin well to-day? I m always well 
 here, and it s lovely on this side." 
 
 He made no response. Madam Spoil s soft hand, 
 obviously controlled by her spirit guide, moved up 
 Mr. Payson s arm and patted his cheek. He drew 
 back suddenly. 
 
 "My !" little Eva exclaimed. "You frightened me ! 
 What a funny man you are ! Won t you just let me 
 smoove your hair, once? I d love to. Oh, I think 
 you re horrid! I m just doin to slap your face 
 there !" Which she did quite briskly. 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 233 
 
 Mr. Payson loosened his hold with some annoyance. 
 
 "Well, I ain t doin to stay if you don t love me," 
 the shrill voice went on. "I don t like men who don t 
 love me. Good-by, old man, I m doin ." 
 
 There was another wriggle on the part of the 
 medium, after which a lower-toned voice said: 
 
 "How do you do ! I m Luella." 
 
 He watched the medium s blank, expressionless face 
 as she spoke. 
 
 "Say, you ain t well, I can see that. Haven t you 
 got a pain in your leg? Excuse me saying it, but I 
 can feel it right there." 
 
 She touched him gently on the thigh. 
 
 "Oh, that s only a touch of rheumatism," he replied. 
 
 "No, it ain t," she said, "it s more serious than that. 
 It s chronic, and it s growing worse. Sometimes it s 
 so painful that you almost die of it, isn t it? I know 
 where you got it; it come of an accident. I can see 
 you in a big crowded house, like, and there s railroad 
 trains coming and going, and you re crowded and 
 jammed. You got internal injuries and a complica 
 tion. You didn t realize it at the time, but it s grow 
 ing worse every day. If you don t look out you ll 
 pass out through it, but if you went right to work, you 
 could be cured of it, before it gets too bad." 
 
 "What could I do about it?" he asked. "The doc 
 tors don t help me much." 
 
 "Of course they don t. You haven t been to the 
 right ones. I was an Indian doctor, and I can see 
 just what s the matter with you. You need a certain 
 kind of herb I used to use when I was on the flesh- 
 plane in Idaho." 
 
 "Can t you help me, then?" 
 
 "Oh, I ve got to go now, they re calling to me. So 
 
234 THE HEART LINE 
 
 good-by." Another wriggle and Madam Spoil was 
 herself again. 
 
 "Well, what did you get?" she asked when she 
 recovered. 
 
 "Why, don t you know?" 
 
 "No more n a babe unborn," she said. "I was in a 
 dead trance, and I never remember anything that hap 
 pens. I hope little Eva didn t tease you any." 
 
 "Who is the other one Luella?" 
 
 "Why, she s an Indian princess that passed out 
 about ten years back. She s got a great gift of diag 
 nosing cases. She s helped my sitters a good deal." 
 
 "She told me something about my trouble." 
 
 "You mean about the gray-haired lady or the child?" 
 
 "Oh, no, about my leg!" 
 
 "Did she, now ? Well, what did I tell you ! Seems 
 to me you do look peaked and pale, like you was 
 enjoying poor health. I noticed it when you first 
 come in. I don t believe your blood s good. Luella 
 don t prescribe ordinarily, but she can diagnose cases 
 something wonderful. If I should tell you how many 
 doctors in this town send their patients to me to be 
 diagnosed before they dare to treat them themselves, 
 you d be surprised. Why, only the other day a lady 
 come in here that was give up by four doctors for 
 cancer, and Luella found it was only a boil in her 
 kidney. She went to a magnetic healer and was cured 
 in a week. Now she s doing her own work and 
 taking care of her babies, keeping boarders and plans 
 to go camping this very month." 
 
 "Who was the doctor?" Mr. Payson asked, much 
 impressed. 
 
 "Doctor Masterson. He s up on Market Street 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 235 
 
 somewhere. Perhaps I ve got a card of his around. 
 I ll see if I can find it." 
 
 She walked over to the mantel and fussed among 
 its dusty ornaments, saying, with apparent concern, as 
 she rummaged: 
 
 "I don t know as I ought to send you to Doctor 
 Masterson, after all. You see, he ain t a man I like 
 very much, and few do, I find. He don t stand very 
 well with the Spiritual Society, nor with anybody 
 else that I know of. He ain t quite on the square, 
 do you understand what I mean? To be perfectly 
 frank, I think he s a rascal. He has a bad reputation 
 as a man, but all the same, he s a good medium, no 
 body denies that, and he does accomplish some mar 
 velous cures! If Luella said your complaint was 
 serious, she knows, and it looks to me like you must 
 go to Doctor Masterson or die of it, for if he can t 
 cure you, nobody can. He s certainly a marvelous 
 healer." 
 
 She found the card at last, and brought it over to 
 Mr. Payson. 
 
 "Here it is, but you better not tell him I give it 
 to you, for we ain t on very good terms, and I wouldn t 
 want him to know that I was sending him business." 
 
 As Mr. Payson rose to go, the medium stopped him 
 with a gesture. 
 
 "Wait a minute," she said, passing her hand across 
 her forehead. "Grace is here again and she says : Tell 
 him that we re doing all we can on the spirit plane 
 to help him and we want him to cheer up, for con 
 ditions are going to be more favorable in a little while, 
 say, by the end of September. " 
 
 She paused a moment and then added: 
 
236 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Who s Clytie? Would that be the gray-haired 
 lady?" 
 
 "What about Clytie?" He was instantly aroused. 
 
 "It don t seem to me like she s in the spirit, exactly. 
 She s on the material plane. Let s see if I can get 
 it more definite. Oh, Grace says she s your daughter." 
 
 "That s true." 
 
 "What do you think of that? I get it very plain 
 now. Grace says she s watching over Clytie and will 
 help her all she can." 
 
 "Can t she tell me anything more?" 
 
 The medium became normal. "No, I guess that s 
 about all I can do for you to-day. I think you got 
 some good tests, specially when you consider it was 
 the first time. When you come again I expect we 
 can do better, and I m sure we can find that little boy 
 you was interested in." 
 
 Mr. Payson rose and stood before her, sedate, dig 
 nified, and said, in his impressive platform-manner: 
 
 "I don t mind saying that I consider this very 
 remarkable, Madam Spoil, very remarkable. I shall 
 certainly call again sometime next week. I am much 
 interested. Now, what is the charge, please?" 
 
 "Oh, we ll only call this three dollars. My price 
 is generally five, but I m sort of interested in your 
 case and I want you to be perfectly satisfied. You 
 can just ring me up any time and make an appoint 
 ment with me." 
 
 She bowed him out with a calm, pleasant smile. 
 
 Down-stairs, Professor Vixley was awaiting her. 
 With him was a shrewd-eyed, bald-headed, old man, 
 with iron spectacles, his forehead wrinkled in hori 
 zontal lines, as if it had been scratched with a sharp 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 237 
 
 comb. He had a three days growth of red beard on 
 his chin and cheeks, and his teeth, showing in a rift 
 between narrow, bloodless lips, were almost black. He 
 wore a greasy, plaid waistcoat, a celluloid collar much 
 in need of the laundry and a ready-made butterfly 
 bow. 
 
 "Why, how d you do, Doctor Masterson?" said 
 Madam Spoil. "I was hoping you would get around 
 to-day, so s we could talk business. I suppose you 
 put him wise about Payson, Vixley?" 
 
 "Certainly," said the Professor. "We re goin to 
 share and share alike, and work him together as long 
 as it lasts. How did you get on with him to-day ?" 
 
 "Oh, elegant," was the answer, as she took a seat 
 on the couch and put up her feet. "I don t believe 
 we re going to be able to use Flora, though." 
 
 Professor Vixley s black eyes glistened and he 
 grinned sensuously. "Why, couldn t you get a rise out 
 of him?" 
 
 Madam Spoil shook her huge head decidedly. "No, 
 that sort of game won t work on him. He ain t that 
 kind. I went as far as I dared and give him a good 
 chance, but he wouldn t stand for it." 
 
 "That s all right, Gert," said Vixley, "I ain t sayin 
 but what you re a fine figure of a woman, but he s 
 sixty and he might prefer somebody younger. You 
 know how they go. Now, Flora, she s a peach. She d 
 catch any man, sure ! She knows the ropes, too, and 
 she can deliver the goods all right. Look at the way 
 she worked Bennett. Why, he was dead stuck on her 
 the first time he seen her. She put it all over Fancy 
 at the first rattle out of the box." 
 
 Again Madam Spoil s crisp, iron-gray curls shook a 
 
238 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Denial. "See here, Vixley !" she exclaimed, "I ain t 
 been in this business for eighteen years without get 
 ting to know something about men. Bennett was a 
 very different breed of dog. I can see a hole in a 
 ladder, and I know what I m talking about. Payson 
 ain t up to any sort of fly game. He s straight, and 
 he s after something different, you take my word for 
 that. If there was anything in playing him that way, 
 I d be the first one to steer him on to Flora Flint, 
 but he d smell a mice if she got gay with him and 
 he d be so leary that we couldn t do nothing more 
 with him." 
 
 "Well, what did you get, then?" Vixley asked 
 
 "Did you wire it up for me?" Doctor Masterson 
 added. 
 
 "Oh, I fixed you all right, Doc. He ll show up at 
 your place, sure enough. That accident tip worked 
 all right and I got him going pretty good about his 
 leg. He s got your card and I give you a recom 
 mendation, I don t think ! You want to look out about 
 what you say about me. We ain t on speaking terms, 
 yon understand, and you re a fakir, for fair. You can 
 get back at me all you want, only don t draw it hard 
 enough to scare him away." 
 
 Doctor Masterson grinned, showing his line of black 
 fangs, and stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets 
 placidly. "Oh, I m used to being knocked, don t mind 
 me. I ll charge him for it. If I m going to be the 
 villain of this here drama, I ll do it up brown." 
 
 "Let s see now. I s pose you can probably hold 
 him about two months, can t you ?" said Vixley, strok 
 ing his pointed black beard and spitting into the fire 
 place. 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 239 
 
 "Oh, not so long as that," said Madam Spoil. "We 
 want to get to work on that book proposition. A 
 month s plenty long enough. They ain t much money 
 in it." 
 
 "I don t know." Doctor Masterson shook his head. 
 "I ve strung em for six months many s the time." 
 
 "Women, perhaps, but not men," said the Madam. 
 
 "Well, maybe. Men are liable to be in more of 
 a hurry, of course." 
 
 "And women ain t so much, with you, are they?" 
 
 The two men laughed cynically. 
 
 "Oh, they s more ways to work women than men, 
 that s all," the doctor replied. "They re more inter 
 ested in their symptoms, and they like to talk about 
 em. Then, again, they s a more variety of com 
 plaints to choose from. I don t say I ain t had some 
 pretty cases in my day." 
 
 "Say!" Madam Spoil interposed. "Who s having 
 a circle to-night Mayhew?" 
 
 "Let s see it s Friday, ain t it? Yes, Mayhew and 
 Sadie Crum," Vixley replied. 
 
 "Well, I s pose we got to put em wise about Pay- 
 son," said the Madam. "He s got the bug now and 
 he s pretty sure to make the rounds." 
 
 "Can t we keep him dark?" said Vixley. "He s our 
 game and they might possibly ring him in." 
 
 "No, that won t do," she answered emphatically. 
 "We got to play fair. They ve always been square 
 with us, and they won t catch him, I ll see to that. 
 Mayhew s straight enough and if Sadie tries to get 
 gay with us, we can fix her and she knows it. And the 
 more easy tests he gets, the better for us. It ll keep 
 him going, and so long as they don t go too far, it ll 
 
240 THE HEART LINE 
 
 help us. The sooner he gets so he don t want to 
 impose test conditions, the better, and they can help 
 convert him for us. I ll ring up Mayhew now. I ve 
 got a good hunch that Payson will show up there 
 to-night." 
 
 She raised her bulk from the couch and went to the 
 telephone by the window, calling for Mayhew s num 
 ber. When she had got it, she said: 
 
 "Is this number thirty-one? . . . Yes, I m number 
 fifteen. . . . Sure ! Oh, pretty good ! . . . I got 
 a tip for you. I m playing a six-year-old for the handi 
 cap, named Oliver. Carries sixty pounds, colors blue 
 and gray, ten hands, jockey is Payson. He s a ten- 
 to-one shot. My wife Grace lived in Stockton. Do 
 what you can for me, but keep your hands off, do 
 you understand ? Numbers forty and thirteen are with 
 me in this deal and we ll fix it for you if you stand 
 in ... yes, all right! If he shows up let me know 
 to-morrow morning, sure." 
 
 She turned to the two men. "I guess that s all 
 right now." 
 
 "What s all that about Stockton?" Vixley asked. 
 
 "He lived there once and there s something more 
 about his wife or something. Mayhew may fish it out 
 of him, and if he does I ll put you on." 
 
 "I ain t seen him yet," said the doctor, "but I 
 guess I ll recognize him. Sixty years old, Oliver Pay- 
 son, one hundred and sixty pounds, blue eyes and gray 
 hair, six feet tall. Are you sure he s a ten-to-one, 
 though? That cuts more ice than anything." 
 
 "Oh, sure!" said Madam Spoil. "Why, he swal 
 lowed the whole dose. He ain t doing no skeptic busi 
 ness. He thinks he s an investigator. Wait till you 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 241 
 
 hear him talk and you ll understand. Not religious, 
 you know, but a good old sort. He s caught all right, 
 and if we jolly him along, we can polish him off good." 
 
 "They ought to be some good materializin graft in 
 that wife proposition. Grace, was it ? We might turn 
 him over to Flora for that." This from Vixley. 
 
 "I ve been thinking of that," said Madam Spoil, 
 "but I don t know whether he ll stand for it or not. It 
 won t be anywheres near the snap it was with Bennett, 
 in full daylight, and we ll have to have special players. 
 I believe I can put my hands on one or two that can 
 help us out, though. Miss French for one ; she s got 
 four good voices. Then there s a young girl I got 
 my eye on that ll do anything I say. She s slim and 
 she can work an eight-inch panel as slick as soap; 
 and she s got a memory for names and faces that beats 
 the directory. Besides, I believe she s really psychic. 
 I ve seen her do -some wonderful things at mind-read 
 ing." 
 
 "No, can she really!" said Vixley. 
 
 "Oh, I used to be clairaudient myself when I begun," 
 said Madam Spoil a little sadly. "I could catch a 
 name right out of the air, half the time. I ve gave 
 some wonderful tests in my day, but you can t never 
 depend upon it, and when you work all the week, 
 sick or well, drunk or sober, you have to put water in 
 the milk and then it s bound to go from you. You 
 have to string em sooner or later. This girl s a dandy 
 at it, though, but that ll all wait. There s enough to 
 do before we get to that part of the game. I expect 
 I had better go out and see Sadie Crum myself. I 
 don t trust her telephone. She s got a ten-party line, 
 what do you think of that?" 
 
242 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "A ten-party line don t do for business," said Vixley, 
 "but it s pretty good for rubberin . I ve got some 
 pretty good dope off my sister s wire. She spends 
 pretty near all her time on it and it does come in 
 handy." 
 
 "Oh, pshaw!" Madam Spoil looked disgusted. "I 
 ain t got time to spend that way. What s the use 
 anyway? They ain t but one rule necessary to know in 
 this business, and that is: All men is conceited, and 
 all women is vain." 
 
 "That s right!" Vixley assented. "Only I got an 
 other that works just as good; all women want to 
 think they are misunderstood, and all men want to 
 think they understand. Ain t that right, Doc?" 
 
 Masterson grinned. "I guess likely you ought to 
 know, if anybody does. But I got a little one of my 
 own framed up, too. How s this? All men want to 
 be heroes and all women want to be martyrs." 
 
 The three laughed cynically together. They had 
 learned their practical psychology in a thorough school. 
 iMadam Spoil chuckled for some time pleasantly. 
 
 "You re the one had ought to write a book, Master- 
 son. I ll bet it would beat out Payson s!" 
 
 "Lord!" said Vixley. "If I was to write down the 
 things that have happened to me, just as they 
 occurred " 
 
 "It wouldn t be fit to print," Madam Spoil added. 
 Vixley looked flattered. 
 
 "How about that pickle-girl?" he asked next. 
 
 "What s that?" said Doctor Masterson. 
 
 "Oh, a new graft of Gertie s. Did she come, Gert?" 
 
 "I should say she did," Madam Spoil replied. "And 
 I got her on the string staking out dopes, too. Why, 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 243 
 
 she s mixed up with a fellow at the Risdon Iron Works, 
 and she don t dare to say her soul s her own since 
 she told me." 
 
 "Nothin like a good scandal to hold on to people 
 by," Masterson remarked. "Where d you get her?" 
 
 "Oh, she floated in. I give her a reading and found 
 out she worked in a pickle factory down on Sixth 
 Street where there are fifty or more girls. Soon as 
 I found out the handle to work her by, I made her 
 a proposition to tip off what s doing in her shop. She 
 makes her little report, steers the girls up here, and 
 then she comes round and tells me who they are and 
 all about em." 
 
 "That s what I call a good wholesale business," said 
 Vixley enviously. "I wish I could work it as slick as 
 that. She uses the peek-hole in the screen, I suppose ?" 
 
 "Sometimes, and sometimes she sits behind the win 
 dow curtain up-stairs." 
 
 "You have to give yourself away, that s the only 
 trouble," said Doctor Masterson. 
 
 "Oh, no," Madam Spoil remarked easily, "I just tell 
 her that I can t always get everybody s magnetism, 
 though of course I can always get hers. That gives 
 her an idea she s important, don t you see? Then I 
 can always lay anything suspicious to the Diakkas. 
 Evil spirits are a great comfort." 
 
 "And anyways, if she should want to tell anything," 
 Vixley suggested, "you can everlastingly blacklist her 
 at the factory with what you know." 
 
 "Yes," Madam Spoil assented; "she s got a record 
 herself, only she hasn t got sense enough to realize on 
 it the way I do on mine. Is they any bigger fool than 
 a girl that s in love?" 
 
244 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Only a man that is," Vixley offered sagely. 
 
 "Oh, men!" she exclaimed contemptuously. "I 
 believe they ain t more n but three real ones alive 
 to-day!" 
 
 The Professor s eyes snapped. "Well, they s women 
 enough, thank the Lord !" 
 
 "Well," said Doctor Masterson, "I got to go to 
 work; I m keeping office hours in the evening now 
 and I have to hump. So long, Gertie, I ll be all ready 
 for Payson, but you and Vixley have got to keep 
 jollying him along. You want me to hold him about 
 a month? I ll see what I can do, and if I get a lead, 
 I ll let you know." He shook hands and left them. 
 
 "I ain t so sure of the Doc as I d like to be," said 
 Madam Spoil after he had gone. 
 
 "Nor me neither," Vixley replied. "We ve got to 
 watch him, I expect, but he ll do for a starter and we 
 can fix him if he gets funny. There ain t nothin like 
 cooperation, Gertie." 
 
 As Madam Spoil sat down again to open a bottle 
 of beer she had taken from beneath the wash-stand, 
 Professor Vixley began to twirl his fingers in his lap 
 and snicker to himself. 
 
 "What are you laughing at, Vixley?" she asked, 
 pouring out two frothing glasses. 
 
 "I was just a-thinkin about Pierpont Thayer. Don t 
 you remember that dope who went nuts on spiritualism 
 and committed suicide?" 
 
 "No, I don t just recall it; what about it?" 
 
 "Why, he got all wound up in the circles here Sadie 
 Crum, she had him on the string for a year, till he 
 didn t know where he was at. He took it so hard 
 that one day he up and shot hisself and left a note 
 
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB 245 
 
 pinned on to his bed that said : I go to test the prob 
 lem/ Lord! I d a sold every one of my tricks and 
 all hers to him for a five-dollar bill! Why didn t 
 he come to me to test his problem? He d a found 
 out quick enough." 
 
 "Yes, and after you d told him all about how it was 
 done, I ll guarantee that I could have converted him 
 again in twenty minutes." 
 
 "I guess that s right," said Vixley. "Them that 
 want to believe are goin to, and you can t prevent 
 em, no matter what you do. They re like hop fiends 
 they ve got to have their dope whether or no, and 
 just so long as they can dream it out they re happy." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ILLUMINATION 
 
 It is easy to imagine the virtuous pride with which 
 the civil engineer, Jasper O Farrell, set about the lay 
 ing out of the town of San Francisco in 1846. Here 
 was the ideal site for a city a peninsula lying like 
 a great thumb on the hand of the mainland, between 
 the Pacific Ocean and a deep, land-locked bay, an area 
 romantically configured of hills and valleys, with pic 
 turesque mountain and water views, the setting sun 
 in the west and Mount Diablo a sentinel in the east ; to 
 the northward, the sea channel of the Golden Gate 
 overhung by the foot-hills of Tamalpais. 
 
 There was still chance to amend and improve the 
 old town site of Yerba Buena, the little Spanish set 
 tlement by the cove in the harbor, whose straight, nar 
 row streets had been artlessly ruled by Francisco de 
 Haro, alcalde of the Mission Dolores. He had marked 
 out upon the ground, northerly, La Calle de la Fun- 
 dacion and the adjacent squares necessary for the 
 little port of entry in 1835. Four years later, when 
 Governor Alvarado directed a new survey of the place, 
 Jean Vioget extended the original lines with mathe 
 matical precision to the hills surrounding the valley; 
 and it would have been possible to correct that artistic 
 blunder of the simple-minded alcalde. But Jasper 
 O Farrell had seen military service with General Sut- 
 ter; his ways were stern and severe, his esthetic 
 impulses, if he had any, were heroically subdued. 
 
 246 
 
ILLUMINATION 247 
 
 Market Street, indeed, he permitted to run obliquely, 
 though it went straight as a bullet towards the Twin 
 Peaks. The rest of the city he made one great checker 
 board, in defiance of its natural topography. 
 
 As one might constrict the wayward fancies of a 
 gipsy maiden to the cold, tight-laced ethics of a puri 
 tanical creed, so O Farrell bound the city that was to 
 be for ever to a gridiron of right-angled streets and 
 blocks of parallelograms. He knew no compromise. 
 His streets took their straight and narrow way, up 
 hill and down dale, without regard to grade or expense. 
 Unswerving was their rectitude. Their angles were 
 exactly ninety degrees of his compass, north and south, 
 east and west. Where might have been entrancingly 
 beautiful terraces, rising avenue above avenue to the 
 heights, preserving the master-view of the continent, 
 now the streets, committed to his plan, are hacked out 
 of the earth and rock, precipitous, inaccessible, gro 
 tesque. So sprawls the fey, leaden-colored town over 
 its dozen hills, its roads mounting to the sky or div 
 ing to the sea. 
 
 So the stranger beholds San Francisco, the Improb 
 able. Its pageantry is unrolled for all to see at first 
 glance. Never was a city so prodigal of its friendship 
 and its wealth. She salutes one on every crossing, wel 
 coming the visitor openly and frankly with her western 
 heart. In every little valley where the slack, rat 
 tling cables of her car-lines slap and splutter over the 
 pulleys, some great area of the town exhibits a rising 
 colony of blocks stretching up and over a shoulder of 
 the hill to one side and to the other. Atop every crest 
 one is confronted with farther districts lying not only 
 beneath but opposite, across lower levels and hollows, 
 
248 THE HEART LINE 
 
 flanking one s point of vantage with rival summits. 
 San Francisco is agile in displaying her charms. As 
 you are whirled up and down on the cable-car, she 
 moves stealthily about you, now lagging behind in 
 steep declivities, now dodging to right or left in 
 stretches of plain or uplifted hillsides, now hurrying 
 ahead to surprise you with a terrifying ascent crowned 
 with palaces. Now she is all water-front and sailors 
 lodging-houses; in a trice she turns Chinatown, then 
 shocks you with a Spanish, Italian or negro quarter. 
 Past the next rise, you find her whimsical, fantastic 
 with garish flats and apartment houses. She lurks 
 in and about thousands of little wooden houses, and 
 beyond, she drops a little park into your path, discloses 
 a stretch of shimmering bay or unveils magnificently 
 the green, gently-sloping expanse of the Presidio. 
 
 No other city has so many points of view, none 
 allures the stranger so with coquetry of originality and 
 fantasy. Some cities have single dominant hills; but 
 she is all hills, they are a vital part of herself. They 
 march down into the town and one can not escape 
 them, they stride north and west and must be climbed. 
 The important lines of traffic accept these conditions 
 and plunge boldly up and down upon their ways. And 
 so, going or returning from his home, the city is always 
 with the citizen from Nob Hill he sees ships in the 
 harbor and the lights of the Mission ; from Kearney 
 Street he keeps his view of Telegraph Hill and Twin 
 Peaks the San Franciscan is always in San Francisco, 
 the city of extremes. 
 
 Of all this topographical chaos, the most spectacular 
 spot is Telegraph Hill. To the eastward on the har 
 bor side, it rises a sheer precipice over a hundred feet 
 
ILLUMINATION 249 
 
 high, where a concrete company has quarried stone for 
 three decades despite protest, appeal, injunction and 
 the force of arms. To the north and west the hill falls 
 away into a jumble of streets, cliffed and hollowed like 
 the billows of the sea, crusted with queer little houses 
 of the Latin quarter. 
 
 Francis Granthope, after the Chinese supper, had 
 found himself swayed by an obsession. The 
 thought of Clytie Payson was insistent in his mind. 
 She troubled him. He recognized the symptom with 
 a grim sense of its ridiculousness. It was, according 
 to his theory, the first sign of love; but the idea of 
 his being in love was absurd. Certainly he desired her, 
 and that ardently. She stimulated him, she stirred his 
 fancy. But he was jealous of his freedom; he would 
 not be snared by a woman s eyes. Marriage, indeed, 
 he had contemplated, but, to his mind, marriage was 
 but a part of the game, a condition which would insure 
 for him an attractive companion, a desirable standing; 
 in short, a point of vantage. What had begun to chafe 
 him, now, was a sort of compulsion that Clytie had 
 put upon him. Somehow he could not be himself with 
 her he was self-conscious, timid he was sensitive to 
 her vibrations, he was swayed by her fine moods and 
 impulses. Though the strain was gentle, still she 
 coerced him. He felt an impulse to shake himself 
 free. 
 
 In this temper, he decided, while he was at dinner, 
 to see her, and, if he could, regain possession of the 
 situation, master her by the use of those arts by 
 which he had so often won before. He would, at 
 least, if he could not cajole her, assert his independence. 
 
250 THE HEART LINE 
 
 No doubt he had been misled by her claims of intuitive 
 power. He would put that to the test, as well. 
 
 It was already after sunset when he started across 
 Union Square. Kearney Street was alight with elec 
 tric lamps and humming- with life. He walked north, 
 passing the gayer retail shopping district towards the 
 cheaper stores, pawnshops and quack doctors offices 
 to where the old Plaza, rising in a green slope to 
 Chinatown, displayed the little Stevenson fountain 
 with its merry gilded ship. Here the waifs and the 
 strays of the night were already wandering, and he 
 responded to frequent appeals for charity. 
 
 Beyond was the dance-hall district, where women of 
 the town were promenading, seeking their prey ; sail 
 ors and soldiers descended into subterranean halls of 
 light and music. Then came the Italian quarter with 
 its restaurants and saloons. 
 
 He paused where Montgomery Avenue diverged, 
 leading to the North Beach, consulted his watch, and 
 found that it was too early to call. He decided to 
 kill time by going up Telegraph Hill, and kept on up 
 Kearney Street 
 
 Across Broadway, it mounted suddenly in an incline 
 so steep, that ladder-like frameworks flat upon the rib 
 bed concrete sidewalks were necessary for ascent. Two 
 blocks the hill rose thus, encompassed by disconsolate 
 and wretched little houses, with alleys plunging down 
 from the street into the purlieus of the quarter; then 
 it ran nearly level to the foot of the hill. The track 
 there was up steps and across hazardous platforms, 
 clambering up and up to a steep path gullied by the 
 winter rains, and at last, by a stiff climb, to the summit 
 of the hill. 
 
ILLUMINATION 251 
 
 From here one could see almost the whole penin 
 sula, the town falling away in waves of hill and valley 
 to the west. The bay lay beneath him, the docks flat 
 and square, as if drawn on a map, red-funneled steam 
 ers lying alongside. In the fairway, vessels rode at 
 anchor, lighted by the moon. The top of the hill was 
 commanded by a huge, castellated, barn-like white 
 structure which had once been used as a pleasure pavil 
 ion, but was now deserted, save by a rascally herd of 
 tramps. At a near view its ruined, deserted grandeur 
 showed unkempt and dingy. By its side, a city park, 
 crowning the crest, scantily cultured and improved, 
 indicated the first rude beginning of formal arrange 
 ment. Moldering, displaced concrete walls and seats 
 showed what had been done and neglected. 
 
 He skirted the eastern slope of the hill, went up 
 and down one-sided streets, streets that dipped and 
 slid longitudinally, streets tilted transversely, keeping 
 along a path at the top till he came to the cliff. 
 
 Here was the prime scandal of the town, naked in all 
 its horror. The quarrymen had, with their blasting, 
 robbed the hill inch by inch, foot by foot and acre by 
 acre. Already a whole city block had disappeared, 
 caving gradually away to tumble to the talus of gravel 
 at the foot of the steep slope. For years, the neigh 
 borhood had been terrorized by this irresistible, ever- 
 approaching fate. The edge of the precipice drew 
 nearer and nearer the houses, bit off a corner of the 
 garden here, ate away a piece of fence there, till the 
 danger-line approached the habitations themselves. 
 Nor did it stop there; it crept below the floors, it 
 sapped the foundations till the house had to be aban 
 doned. Then with a crash, some afternoon, the whole 
 
252 THE HEART LINE 
 
 structure would fall into the hollow. House after 
 house had disappeared, family after family had been 
 ruined. The crime was rank and outrageous, but it 
 had not been stopped. 
 
 As Granthope walked, he saw bits of such deserted 
 residences. Here a flight of stone steps on the verge 
 of the height, there fences running giddily off into the 
 air or drain-pipes, broken, sticking over the edge. The 
 hazardous margin was now fenced off at any moment 
 a huge mass might slip away and slide thundering 
 below. At the foot of the cliff stood the lead-colored 
 building housing the stone-crusher, whose insatiate 
 appetite had caused this sacrifice of property. It was 
 ready to feed again on the morrow. 
 
 He walked to the edge and looked down a sharp 
 incline, a few rods away from the most dangerous 
 part of the cliff. He was outside the fence, now, with 
 nothing between him and the slope. As he stood there, 
 a dog barked suddenly behind him. He turned his 
 foot slipped upon a stone, twisted under him, and he 
 fell outward. He clutched at the loose dirt, but could 
 not save himself and rolled over and over down the 
 slope. Forty feet down his head struck a boulder and 
 he lost consciousness. 
 
 He came to himself with a blinding, splitting pain in 
 his head ; his body was stiff and cold in the night 
 air. He lay half-way down the slope, his hands and 
 face were scratched and bleeding, his clothes were torn. 
 He was motionless for some time, endeavoring to 
 collect his senses, wondering vaguely what to do. 
 Then he stirred feebly, tried his limbs to see what 
 damage had been done and found he had broken no 
 
ILLUMINATION 253 
 
 bones. His ankle, however, was badly strained, and 
 it ached severely. As he sank back again, far down 
 the hill towards the crusher building, a voice came up 
 to him: 
 
 "Francis ! Francis !" 
 
 It penetrated his consciousness slowly. Still a little 
 dazed, he rolled over and looked down to the deserted 
 street below. He tried to rise and his ankle crumpled 
 under him. He answered as loud as he could cry, then 
 lay there watching. 
 
 Sansome Street lay bare in the moonlight. On the 
 near side the hill sloped up to him from the rock 
 crusher. On the other side was a row of gaunt build 
 ings a pickle factory, a fruit-canning works, and so 
 on, to the dock. An electric car flashed by and, as it 
 passed, he saw a woman moving to and fro at the foot 
 of the talus. 
 
 He sat up as well as he could on the slope and 
 again shouted down to her. She stopped instantly. 
 Then, waving her hand, she started to scramble up the 
 slippery gravel of the hill. 
 
 As she ascended, she had to zigzag this way and 
 that to avoid sliding back. Part of the time, she was 
 forced to go almost on hands and knees. The moon 
 was behind her, throwing her face into shadow. She 
 climbed steadily without calling to him again. When 
 she \vas a few yards away, he cried to her: 
 
 "Miss Payson ! Is that you ?" 
 
 "Yes! Don t try to move, I m coming." 
 
 She reached him at last and knelt before him 
 anxiously. Her tawny, silken hair was loosened under 
 her hat and streamed down into her eyes. She had 
 on a red cloth opera cloak with an ermine collar; this 
 
254 THE HEART LINE 
 
 was partly open, showing, underneath, a white silk 
 evening dress cut low in the neck. Her hands were 
 covered with white suede gloves to the elbow they 
 were grimy and torn into ribbons. Her white skirt, 
 too, was ripped and soiled. She put her hand to her 
 hair and tossed it back, then took his hands in hers. 
 
 "Are you hurt?" she asked anxiously. 
 
 "Not much. I believe I was stunned. I have no 
 idea how long I ve been here. What time is it?" 
 
 "It is almost eleven. Oh, I m so glad I found you ! 
 I m going to help you down." She stooped lower to 
 assist him. 
 
 "But I don t understand," he said in astonishment. 
 "How in the world did you happen to come? What 
 does it all mean?" His bewilderment was comic 
 enough to draw forth her flashing smile. 
 
 "We ll talk about that afterwards. We must get 
 down this hill first. Oh, I hope there are no bones 
 broken." 
 
 "Oh, no, I m all right," he insisted, "but it s like a 
 dream! Let me think I was up on Telegraph Hill, 
 and I slipped and fell over then I must have been 
 unconscious until you came. How did you happen to 
 come? I don t understand. It s so mysterious." 
 
 "You must get up now. See if you can walk." She 
 gently urged him. "I ll explain it all when you re safe 
 down there where we can get help." 
 
 With her assistance he raised himself slowly, but the 
 pain in his ankle was too great for him to support 
 his own weight. He dropped limply down again and 
 smiled up at her. 
 
 "I think I might make it if I had a crutch of some 
 kind any stick would do." 
 
ILLUMINATION 255 
 
 "Wait, I ll see if I can find one." 
 
 She left him, to go down, slipping dangerously at 
 times, using her hands to save herself. Part-way down 
 she found an old broom the straw was worn to a mere 
 stub, and this she brought back. 
 
 With its aid and that of her steady arm, he hobbled 
 down foot by foot. He slid and fell with a suppressed 
 groan more than once, but she was always ready to lift 
 him and support his weight in the steeper descents. 
 The lower part of the hill fanned out to a more grad 
 ual slope, where it was easier going. They reached 
 the sidewalk at last and he sat down upon a large rock 
 almost exhausted. 
 
 Just then an electric car came humming down San- 
 some Street. In an instant she was out on the track 
 signaling for it to stop. 
 
 "If you pass a cab or a policeman, please send them 
 down here!" she commanded. "This gentleman has 
 met with an accident and we must have help to take 
 him home." 
 
 The conductor nodded, staring at her, as she stood 
 in her disheveled finery, splendidly bold in the moon 
 light, like a dismounted Valkyr. The car plowed on 
 and left them. Calmly she stripped off her slashed 
 gloves and repaired the disorder of her hair. A long 
 double necklace of pearls caught the moonlight, and in 
 the front breadth of her gown, a rent showed a pale 
 blue silken skirt beneath. Granthope, bedraggled and 
 smeared with blood and dust, was as grotesque a figure. 
 The humor of the picture struck them at once, and 
 they burst into laughter. 
 
 Then, "How did you know?" he said. 
 
 She became serious immediately. "It was very 
 
256 THE HEART LINE 
 
 strange. I was at a reception with Mr. Cay ley. I 
 happened to be sitting on a couch by myself, when I 
 don t know how to describe the sensation but I saw 
 you, or felt you, lying somewhere, on your back. I 
 was so frightened I didn t know what to do. I knew 
 something had happened, yet I didn t know where to 
 find you. I gave it up and tried to forget about it, 
 but I couldn t it was like a steady pain then I knew 
 I had to come. It seemed so foolish and vague that I 
 didn t want to ask Mr. Cayley to go on such a wild- 
 goose chase with me. Father understands me better 
 and if he d been there I would have brought him along. 
 So I slipped out alone, put on my things and took a 
 car down-town. I seemed to know by instinct where to 
 get off you should have seen the way the conductors 
 stared at me ! and I turned right down this way, 
 trusting to my intuitions. I seemed to be led directly 
 to the foot of the cliff here where I first called you." 
 
 "Yes, you called Francis, didn t you? he said, look 
 ing up at her in wonder. 
 
 "Did I ? I don t know what I said if I did it was 
 as instinctively done as all the rest. We ll have to go 
 into business together." Her laugh was nervous and 
 excited. 
 
 He frowned. "Miss Payson, I don t know how to 
 thank you it was a splendid thing to do." 
 
 "Oh, it has been a real adventure almost my first. 
 But it s not over yet. I must take you home now. 
 What a sight I am! You, too! Wait let me clean 
 you off a little." 
 
 She stooped over him and, with a lace handkerchief, 
 lightly brushed his face free of the dust, wiped the 
 blood away, then, with gentle fingers, smoothed his 
 
ILLUMINATION 257 
 
 black hair. Both trembled slightly at the contact. She 
 stopped, embarrassed at her own boldness, then stood 
 more constrained and self-conscious, till the rattling 
 wheels of a carriage were heard. A hack came clatter 
 ing up over the cobble-stones and drew up at the curb. 
 The driver jumped down from his seat. 
 
 There were a few words of explanation and direc 
 tion, then the man and Clytie, one on either side, helped 
 Granthope into the vehicle. She followed and the 
 cab drove off up-town. For a few moments the two 
 sat in silence, side by side. An electric lamp illumi 
 nated her face for an instant as the carriage whirled 
 past a corner. Her eyes were shining, her lips half 
 open, as she looked at him. 
 
 The sight of her, and the excitement of her roman 
 tic intervention, made him forget his pain. He felt 
 her spell again, and now with this appearance how 
 much more strongly ! There was no denying her magic 
 after such a bewildering manifestation. The event had, 
 also, brought her humanly more near to him he had 
 felt the strong touch of her hand, her breath on his 
 face the very disorder of her attire seemed to increase 
 their intimacy. He leaned back to enjoy the full flavor 
 of her charm. He was suddenly aroused by her 
 placid, even voice : 
 
 "Mr. Granthope, there s one thing you didn t tell me 
 the other day, when you described that scene at Madam 
 Grant s." 
 
 He caught the name with surprise, remembering that 
 he had never spoken it to her. In her mention of it 
 he felt a vague alarm. 
 
 "What?" He heard his voice betray him. 
 
 "That there was a little boy with her, that day." 
 
258 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Clytie turned to him, and for the first time he felt 
 a sudden fear that she would find him out. 
 
 "Was there a little boy there ? How do you know ?" 
 
 She kept looking at him, and away, as she spoke. In 
 the drifting of her glances, however, her eyes seemed 
 to seek his continuously, rather than continually to 
 escape. "Quite by accident never mind now. But 
 this is what is most strange of all I didn t tell you, 
 before while I was there, that time, so many years 
 ago you know what strange fancies children have 
 you know how, if one is at all sensitive to psychic influ 
 ence, how much stronger and how natural it seems 
 when one is young well, all the while, I seemed to 
 feel there was some one else there some one I couldn t 
 see!" 
 
 She was too much for him, with such intuition. His 
 one hope was, now, that she would not plumb the 
 whole depth of his deceit. He managed his expression, 
 drawing back into the shadow. 
 
 "Did you know who it was, there?" 
 
 "No only that I was drawn secretly to some one 
 who was there, near me, out of sight. Of course, I ve 
 forgotten much of the impression, but now, as I remem 
 ber it, it almost seems to me as if this little boy who 
 ever he was must be related to me in some vague 
 way as if we had something in common. I wish I 
 could find out about it. You know better the rationale 
 of these things they come to me only in flashes of 
 intuition, suddenly, when I least expect them." 
 
 He sought desperately to divert her from the sub 
 ject, summoning to his aid the tricks experience had 
 taught him. First to his hand came the ruse of per 
 sonality. 
 
ILLUMINATION 259 
 
 "You called me Francis before that was strange, 
 for few people call me that or Frank nowadays only 
 one or two who have known me a long time." 
 
 "Ah, I didn t know what I was saying. It was 
 strange, wasn t it? But you won t accuse me of 
 coquetry at such a time, will you? You were in dan 
 ger I thought only of that." 
 
 "Oh, I don t mind," he said playfully. 
 
 "Nor do I." 
 
 "You ll call me Francis?" 
 
 She smiled. "Every time I rescue you." 
 
 There was evidently no lead for him there. He had 
 to laugh, and give it up. Clytie s mood grew more 
 serious. 
 
 "Mr. Cayley was telling me how interesting you 
 were after the ladies had left; really, he was quite 
 complimentary. He told me all about that absurd 
 Bennett affair you talked about." 
 
 "Yes, it was an extraordinary case." He wondered 
 what was coming. 
 
 "I mean the story was absurd to hear, but I can t 
 help wondering what sort of people they were who 
 would deceive an old man like that. It seems pitiful 
 to me that any one could have the heart to do it and 
 for money, too." 
 
 Granthope cursed his indiscretion. Must she find 
 this out, too? Was no part of his life, past or present, 
 safe from her? If so, he might as well give her up 
 now. It seemed impossible to conceal anything from 
 her clear vision. But he still strove to put her off. 
 
 "Oh, these people were weak and ignorant we 
 haven t all the same advantages or the same sensitive 
 ness to honor and truth. They were used to this sort 
 
260 THE HEART LINE 
 
 of thing, hardened to it, and perhaps unconscious of 
 their baseness by a constant association with such 
 deceptions." 
 
 "But didn t Mr. Bennett have any friends to warn 
 him to show these people up in their true light?" 
 
 "Oh, that was no use. It was tried, yes; that is, 
 he was shown his carriage, for instance, after it \v;:> 
 sold, but he refused to believe it was the same one. 
 He confessed that it was just like it, but he knew 
 that his was then on the planet Jupiter. I don t think 
 the mediums themselves could have convinced him." 
 
 "Think of it ! It makes their swindling even worse. 
 If he had doubted, if he had tried to trap them, it 
 wouldn t be quite so bad, it would have been a battle 
 of brains but to impose on such credulity, to make 
 a living by it oh, it s unthinkable !" 
 
 "Well, after all, they made him happy. In a way, 
 they were telling him only pleasant lies, as a parent 
 might tell a child about Santa Claus and the fairies." 
 
 He could not keep it up much longer. It was too 
 perilous ; and he played for her sympathy. "After all, 
 I suppose my business is about as undignified." 
 
 "But it s really a science, isn t it? Mr. Cayley gave 
 me to understand that you had a convincing theory to 
 explain all personal physical characteristics." 
 
 "There s a little more to palmistry than that, I think 
 an instinctive feeling for character." 
 
 "Of course. You must have felt my personality 
 intuitively, or you would never have been able to get 
 it so well. But it was most extraordinary of all, I 
 think, the way you got my name. How do you account 
 for that?" 
 
 He felt, the net closing about him. 
 
ILLUMINATION 261 
 
 "Oh, I m sometimes clairaudient." 
 
 She took it up with animation. "Are you? I must 
 try to send you a message!" 
 
 "Haven t you?" he said, still attempting to keep 
 the talk less serious. "All day I have heard you say 
 ing, You must learn/ But learn what?" 
 
 "It seems so queer to me that you shouldn t know, 
 yourself." 
 
 "Then tell me. Explain." 
 
 "No, you ll find out, I think." 
 
 He waited a while, for a twinge of pain gave him all 
 he could do to control himself. Somehow it sobered 
 him. "I wish I dared to be friends with you." 
 
 She gave him her hand simply and he returned its 
 cordial pressure. He was sincere enough, now. He 
 was not afraid of mere generalities. 
 
 "I m not worthy of your friendship," he said. "I d 
 hate to have you know how little I am worth it. If 
 you knew how I have lived what few chances I have 
 had to know any one really worth while. I ve never 
 yet had a friend who was able to understand me." 
 
 "I have given you my hand," she replied, "and I 
 shall not withdraw it. It is my intuition, you see, and 
 not my reason, that makes me trust you." 
 
 They relapsed for a while into silence. Then, as the 
 cab turned up into Geary Street, past the electric 
 lights, she went on as if she had been thinking it out 
 to herself. 
 
 "You know what I said the other day about its 
 being easier to say real things at the first meeting. I 
 am afraid I said too much then. But I was impatient. 
 I felt that I might never see you again and I wanted 
 to give you the message. Now, when I feel sure that 
 
262 THE HEART LINE 
 
 we re going to be friends, I am quite willing to wait 
 and let it all come about naturally. The only thing 
 I demand is honesty." 
 
 "Is that all? * he asked, with a touch of sarcasm. 
 
 She laughed unaffectedly. "Are you finding it so 
 hard?" 
 
 The cab drew up to the curb at the door of his 
 rooms. Immediately she became solicitous, helping 
 him to alight. He used the broom for a crutch, and, 
 scratched and torn, his clothes still stained with clay, 
 she in her harlequin of dirt and rags, they presented 
 an extraordinary spectacle under the electric light, to 
 a man on the sidewalk who was approaching leisurely, 
 swinging his stick. As they reached the entrance he 
 drew nearer, making as if to speak to them; instead, 
 he lifted his hat, stared at them and passed on. It 
 was Blanchard Cayley. 
 
 Clytie s face went red. Cayley turned for an instant 
 to look at them again and then proceeded on his way. 
 Granthope did not notice him. 
 
 Clytie disregarded his protest, and, saying that she 
 would see him safely to his room, at least, accompanied 
 him up-stairs. 
 
 As he fumbled for his key in his pocket, the office 
 door was suddenly opened and Fancy Gray appeared 
 upon the threshold. 
 
 Her eyebrows went up and Granthope s went down. 
 Her eyes had flown past him to stare at Clytie. The 
 two women confronted each other for a tense moment 
 without a word. 
 
 Fancy had taken off her jacket ; her hair was braided 
 down her back. She wore an embroidered linen blouse 
 turned away at the neck, and pinned over her heart 
 
ILLUMINATION 263 
 
 was a little silver chatelaine watch with a blue dial. 
 It rose and fell as she drew breath suddenly. 
 
 "Mr. Granthope has met with an accident," Clytie 
 announced, the first to recover from the shock of 
 surprise. 
 
 "I should say he had," was her comment, "and you, 
 too?" Then she laughed nervously. "It must have 
 been a draw." 
 
 Clytie did not catch the allusion. "I happened to 
 find him and brought him back," she explained. "He 
 had fallen down the cliff on Telegraph Hill." 
 
 As Granthope limped in, Fancy put a few more won 
 dering inquiries, which he answered in monosyllables. 
 Seeing Fancy so disconcerted, Clytie left Granthope in 
 a chair and turned directly to her with a conciliatory 
 gesture. 
 
 "We always seem to meet in queer circumstances, 
 Miss Gray, don t we?" she said kindly. "It s really 
 most fortunate that you happened to be here at work. 
 I don t quite know what I should have done, all alone, 
 but Fm sure you will do all that s necessary for Mr. 
 Granthope, better than I. I must hurry home ; father 
 will be expecting me." 
 
 During this speech, Fancy s eyes had filled, and now 
 they shone soft with gratitude. 
 
 "Oh," she said, "I can fix him up all right. It s only 
 a bad strain, I guess." 
 
 Granthope watched the two women in silence. 
 
 "Well, then, I ll go." Clytie walked to the mirror, 
 smiled with Fancy at the image she saw there, touched 
 her hat and rubbed her face with her handkerchief. 
 Then she held out her hand with a charming sim 
 plicity. 
 
264 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I do wish you d come and see me sometime, Miss 
 Gray!" she said. 
 
 Fancy choked down something in her throat before 
 she replied. 
 
 "I will sometime sure. If you really want to see 
 me." 
 
 "Yes, I really do." Clytie smiled again. Then she 
 went up to Granthope. "Good night, Mr. Granthope, 
 I m sure I m leaving you in kind hands. I hope it 
 won t prove a serious injury. And remember!" 
 Then, bowing to both, she left the room and went 
 down to her cab. 
 
 Two vertical lines were furrowed in Granthope s 
 brow. He turned to Fancy with a look that barely 
 escaped being angry. 
 
 "God! I m sorry you were here!" 
 
 "Yes? That s easily remedied ; you only have to say 
 the word." 
 
 "Too late, now!" His tone was sad rather than 
 cruel. 
 
 "I hardly expected you to bring home company " 
 she began. 
 
 "I m sure it was as much a surprise to me " 
 
 "I m sorry, Frank, but I had to see you Vixley was 
 here after you left." 
 
 He groaned with the pain his ankle gave him and 
 she flew to him and knelt before his chair. 
 
 "Oh, Frank, I m so sorry. What can I do for you ? 
 First, let me take off your shoe and attend to your foot. 
 I can run out and get something to put on it. It was 
 awkward, my being here but I don t mind on my 
 own account, so much. If it embarrassed you, forgive 
 
ILLUMINATION 265 
 
 "It s worse than that," he said. 
 
 "You mean that you care for her?" 
 
 "I don t know what I do mean but you ll have to 
 
 go-" 
 
 She looked up at him for a moment, searching his 
 
 drawn face. 
 
 "I will, just as soon as I ve bound up your ankle and 
 got your couch ready. It won t take long." 
 
 "No, I can attend to that myself. I ll telephone for 
 a doctor and have him fix me up. You must go now." 
 
 "All right. Just wait till I put on my jacket and do 
 up my hair." 
 
 Walking off, proudly, she opened the door of the 
 closet and stood before the mirror there, while he, a 
 limp, relaxed figure in the arm-chair, watched her as 
 she unbraided her hair and combed it out in a magnifi 
 cent coppery cascade to her waist. Tossing her head, 
 she said: 
 
 "Vixley s laying for you, Frank ! You d better watch 
 out for him. It s something shady about the old man s 
 past, I believe. Anyway, I hope you ll fool em, 
 Frank !" 
 
 With this complication of his position, he bent his 
 head on his hand as if he were weary. "I don t know 
 what I m going to do," he said. "It s too much for 
 me, I m afraid." 
 
 "What s the matter?" said Fancy solicitously. 
 "Didn t I work it right? Honest, Frank, I didn t give 
 you away a bit I didn t tell him a word. You know 
 my work isn t lumpy I just pumped him. I beat him 
 at his own game, and it didn t taste so good, either. 
 Oh, I m so sorry if I did anything to hurt you. I d 
 die first!" 
 
266 THE HEART LINE 
 
 As he did not answer her she came over to him and 
 kne-lt on the floor, seizing his hand. Her tears fell 
 upon it. 
 
 "You ve been mighty good to me, Frank, you sure 
 have ! You took me off the streets when I was starv 
 ing. I don t know whatever would have become of 
 me. I suppose I d gone right down the line, if it hadn t 
 been for you. You re the only friend I ve got, and I 
 only wish I could do something to prove how grateful 
 I am. Honest, I thought I was helping you out when 
 I kept Vixley here. You don t think you don t 
 think I like him do you? Don t say that, Frank!" 
 
 She was speaking in gasps now ; her tears were un 
 restrained. Her hand clutched his so fiercely that he 
 could scarcely bear the pain. He did not dare to look 
 at her. 
 
 "I ve always been square with you, Frank, haven t 
 I?" 
 
 He patted her hand softly. 
 
 "We ve kept to the compact, haven t we ? The com 
 pact we made at Alma ? You trust me, don t you ?" 
 
 "Of course ! You re all right you re true blue. 
 I couldn t distrust you. You ll always be the 
 Maid of Alma. It was a game thing you did for me. 
 Nobody else would have done it. You have helped me, 
 but I can t tell you what a corner I m in." He paused 
 and looked at her intensely. "Fancy you haven t 
 forgotten have you?" 
 
 She forced a trembling smile, as she said bravely: 
 
 " No fair falling in love ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She shook out a laugh and stroked his hand, looking 
 up at him through her tears. "Oh, no danger of that, 
 
ILLUMINATION 267 
 
 Frank. You don t know me. I m all right, sure ! 
 Only and I owe you so much ! You ve taught me 
 everything. If I could only do something to prove 
 that I m worth it." 
 
 "You can that s the trouble. I believe I m almost 
 cur enough to ask it of you." 
 
 "What is it? Tell me, quick ! You know I d black 
 your boots for you. I d do anything." 
 
 "Did you notice Miss Payson s face when she saw 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes." Fancy dropped her head. 
 
 "I d hate to have her suspect if she thought " 
 
 "Oh!" She sprang to her feet and stood as proud 
 as a lioness. "Is that it? You want me to go for 
 good?" Even now there was no anger in her look or 
 tone. The little silver watch heaved up and down 
 on her breast. 
 
 He sought for a kind phrase. "I m afraid it would 
 be better it makes me feel like a beast of course, 
 you understand " his eyes went to her, pleading. 
 
 "Then it is Miss Payson? Oh, Frank, why didn t 
 you tell me ! You might have trusted me ! You ought 
 to have known better! Haven t I always said that 
 when the woman who could make you happy did come, 
 how glad I d be for you ?" 
 
 "You re really not hurt, then? I was afraid " 
 
 "Poor old Frank! You goose! Of course not it 
 makes me sorry to think of leaving you, that s all. 
 Never mind there s nothing in the race but the finish ! 
 I m all right." She had become a little hysterical in 
 her actions, but he was too distracted to notice it. 
 
 "I ll let you have all the money you want I ll get 
 you a good place " he began. 
 
268 THE HEART LINE 
 
 She shook her head decidedly. "Cut that out, please, 
 Frank ; but thanks, all the same. If I ever want any 
 money, I ll come to you. Why shouldn t I? But not 
 now. Don t pay me to go away that sounds rotten. 
 I ll get a position all right. Didn t I turn down that 
 secretary s place only last week? But I guess I ll travel 
 on my looks for a while. I m flush." 
 
 "I hope I can tell her all about this, sometime," he 
 said wearily. 
 
 "Bosh! What s the use? Thank God some women 
 know that some women are square without being told. 
 Men seem to think we re all cats. Even women talk 
 of each other as if they were a different sort of human 
 animal. But not Miss Payson she s a thoroughbred. 
 I can see that all right. You can t fool Fancy Gray 
 about petticoats. I take off my hat to her. She s got 
 every woman you ever had running after you beaten 
 a mile. Don t you worry she ll never be surprised 
 to find that a woman can be square. Well, I ll fade 
 away then." 
 
 As she talked she buttoned up her jacket and stuck 
 the hat pin in her hair. Now her eyes grew dreamier 
 and she went over and sat on the arm of his chair and 
 put her hand on his hair affectionately, saying : 
 
 "Say, Frank, I don t know after all, perhaps some 
 time you might just tell her this sometime when the 
 thing s all going straight, when she s got over well, 
 what I saw in her eyes to-night when she finds out 
 what you re worth when she really knows how good 
 you are you just tell her this say : There s one thing 
 about Fancy Gray, she always played fair! She ll 
 know then ; but just now, you can be careful of her 
 watch out what you do with her, she s going to suffer 
 
ILLUMINATION 269 
 
 a whole lot if you don t. You know something about 
 women, but you ll find out that when you re sure 
 enough in love you ll need it all, and what you know 
 isn t a drop in the bucket to what you ve got to learn. 
 I hope you ll get it good and hard. It ll do you good. 
 You only know one side now. You ll learn the rest 
 from her. She s not the sort to do things half-way. 
 When she begins to go she ll go the limit." 
 
 She leaned over him. "You might give me one kiss 
 just to brace me up, will you ? It may take the taste of 
 Vixley off my lips. Well, so long. Don t take any 
 Mexican money ! If there s anything I can do, let me 
 know." She rose and tossed a smile at him with her 
 old jaunty grace. Then she patted him on the cheek 
 and went swiftly out. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 COMING ON 
 
 By artful questions, and apparently innocent remarks 
 to lure his confidence, by a little guess-work, more 
 observation, and a profound knowledge of the frail 
 ties of human nature, Madam Spoil had plied Oliver 
 Payson to good advantage. 
 
 She got a fact here, a suggestion there, and, one at 
 a time, she arranged these items in order, and with 
 them wove a psychological web strong enough to work 
 upon. It was partly hypothetical, partly proved, but, 
 slender and shadowy as it was, upon it was portrayed 
 a faint image of her victim a pattern sufficient for 
 her use. Every new piece of information was deftly 
 used to strengthen the fabric, until at last it was 
 serviceable as a working theory of his life and could 
 be used to astonish and interest him. Of this whole 
 process he was, of course, unaware, so cleverly dis 
 guised was her method, so skilful was her tact. She 
 never frightened her quarry, never permitted him to 
 suspect her. Her errors she frankly acknowledged 
 and set down to the ignorance of her guides. She 
 had, indeed, many holes by which she could escape 
 set formulae for covering her petty failures. 
 
 After two or three interviews, she had filled up 
 almost all the weak spots in her web, and was prepared 
 to encompass her victim by wiles with which to bleed 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Payson had gone away from his first interview 
 270 
 
COMING ON 271 
 
 limping slightly more than usual, and had talked con 
 siderably about his ailment to his daughter. Clytie, 
 not knowing what had increased his hypochondria, 
 was inclined to laugh at his fears and complaints. He 
 found a more sympathetic listener in Blanchard Cay- 
 ley, who took him quite seriously and discoursed for 
 an hour in Payson s office upon the possibilities of 
 internal disorders, such as the medium had mentioned. 
 
 The result was a visit to Doctor Masterson. 
 
 The healer s quarters were two flights up in one 
 of the many gloomy buildings on Market Street, half 
 lodging-rooms, half offices, inhabited by chiropodists, 
 cheap tailors, "painless" dentists and such riffraff. 
 The stair was steep and the halls were narrow. The 
 doctor s place was filled with a sad half-light that 
 made the rows of bottles on the shelves, the skull in 
 the corner and the stuffed owl seem even more mys 
 terious. The room was dusty and ill-kept; the floor 
 was covered with cold linoleum. 
 
 The magnetic healer s shrewd eyes glistened and 
 shifted behind his spectacles ; the horizontal wrinkles 
 in his forehead, under his bald pate, drew gloomily 
 together as Mr. Payson poured out the story of his 
 trouble. For a time the doctor said nothing. Then he 
 took a vial full of yellow liquid from his table, car 
 ried it to the window, held it to the light, examined 
 it solemnly and put it back. He sat down again and 
 looked Mr. Payson over. Then he tilted back in his 
 chair, stuck a pair of dirty thumbs in the armholes of 
 his plaid waistcoat, and said, "H m!" Finally, his 
 thin lips parted in a grisly smile showing his blackened 
 teeth. 
 
 His victim watched, anxiously waiting, with his two 
 
272 THE HEART LINE 
 
 hands on the head of his cane. The gloom appeared 
 to affect his spirits; he seemed ready to expect the 
 worst. 
 
 Doctor Masterson took off his spectacles and wiped 
 them on a yellow silk handkerchief. "It looks pretty 
 serious to me/ he said, "but I calculate I can fix you 
 up. It ll cost some money, though. Ye see, it s this 
 way : I m controlled by an Indian medicine-man named 
 Hasandoka and his band o sperits. Now, in order to 
 bring this here psychic force to bear on your case, 
 it s bound to take considerable o my time and their 
 time, and I ll have to go to work and neglect my reg - 
 lar patients. It takes it out o me, and I can t do but 
 just so much or I peter out. I ll go into a trance and 
 see what Hasandoka has to say, and then you ll be 
 in a condition to know what to decide. O course, you 
 understand, I ain t no doctor and don t claim to be, 
 but I got control of a powerful psychic force that 
 guides me in my treatment, and I never knew it to 
 fail yet. If my band o sperits can t help you, nobody 
 can, and you better go to work and make your will 
 right away. See?" 
 
 Mr. Payson saw the argument and manifested a 
 desire to proceed with the investigation. 
 
 The doctor loosened his celluloid collar and closed 
 his eyes. In a minute or two he appeared to fall 
 asleep, breathing heavily. 
 
 Then, through him, the great Hasandoka spoke, in 
 the guttural dialect such as is supposed to be affected 
 by the American Indian, using flowery metaphors 
 punctuated by grunts. 
 
 The tenor of his communication was that Mr. Pay- 
 son was undoubtedly afflicted with something which 
 
\\ 
 
 Doctor Masterson was prepared for his victim Page -273 
 
274 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I ve been in direct communication with Hasan- 
 doka," he said, "and I m posted on your case now, and 
 have full directions what to do. The first thing is a 
 good course of massage. Now, which would you pre 
 fer to have, a man or a woman ? I got a girl I some 
 times employ who s pretty slick at massage. She s 
 good and strong and willing and as pretty as a peach, 
 if I do say it she s got a figger like a waxwork I 
 think p raps Flora would help you more n any one " 
 
 Mr. Payson shook his head coldly, saying that he 
 preferred a man. 
 
 "Oh, o course," Doctor Masterson said apologeti 
 cally, shrugging his shoulders, "if you don t want her 
 I guess I better go to work and do the rubbing myself, 
 if you d be better satisfied." 
 
 The Indian herb prescribed by Hasanaoka was, it 
 appeared, a rare, secret and expensive drug. The 
 doctor s price was ten dollars a bottle, in addition to 
 his weekly charge for treatment. He presented Mr. 
 Payson with a bottle of dark brown fluid of abomin 
 able odor. 
 
 The treatment went on thrice a week, the massage 
 being alternated with trances in which the doctor, 
 under the cogent spell of the medicine man, uttered 
 many strange things. The whole effect of this was to 
 reassure Mr. Payson upon the fact that powerful 
 influences were at work for his especial benefit. 
 
 Whether induced by Hasandoka s aid or by Doctor 
 Masterson s suggestion, an improvement in the patient s 
 mind, at least, did come. He was met, the following 
 week, by the magnetic healer in his rooms with a con 
 gratulatory smile. Doctor Masterson inaugurated the 
 second stage of his campaign. 
 
COMING ON 275 
 
 "Say, you certainly are looking better, ain t you? 
 How s the pain, disappearing, eh ? I thought we could 
 bring you around. Yesterday I was in a trance four 
 hours on your case and it took the life out o me 
 something terrible. I knew then that I was drawing 
 the disease out o you. You just go to work and walk 
 acrost the room, and see if you ain t improved. We 
 got you started now, and all we got to do is to keep 
 it up till you re absolutely well." 
 
 Blanchard Cayley also seemed interested when Mr. 
 Payson told him of the improvement. 
 
 "You certainly are growing younger every day," 
 said Cayley. "I don t know how you manage it at 
 your age, in this vile weather, too, but I notice you ve 
 got more color and more spring in you. You re a 
 wonder !" 
 
 One afternoon, during the third week of his treat 
 ment, as Mr. Payson was seated in his own office, the 
 door opened and a chubby, roly-poly figure of a 
 woman, with soft brown eyes and hair, came in timidly 
 and looked about, seemingly perplexed and embar 
 rassed. She walked up to his desk. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," she said, "but could you tell 
 me where Mr. Bigelow s office is, in this building? 
 I thought it was on this floor, but I can t find his 
 name on any door." 
 
 He replied, scarcely glancing at her: "Down at the 
 end of the corridor, on the left." 
 
 She stood watching him for a moment as he con 
 tinued his writing, and then ventured to say: 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir, but ain t you the gentle 
 man that come to me some time ago to have your life 
 read?" 
 
276 THE HEART LINE 
 
 He looked up now and recognized her as the one 
 who had initiated him into the occult world, through 
 the medium of the "Egyptian egg." 
 
 "Why, yes." He smiled benevolently. "You re 
 Miss Ellis, aren t you?" 
 
 She seemed pleased. "Yes," she answered ; "I hope 
 you don t mind my reminding you of it, but I took an 
 interest in your case more than usual, on account of 
 your reading being so different, and I was surprised to 
 see you here. You re looking much better than you 
 did then. When you come into my place, I said to 
 myself, There s a man that ll pass out pretty soon 
 if he don t take care of himself. You seemed so 
 miserable. Why, I wouldn t know you now, you re 
 so much improved. You must have gained flesh, too. 
 Well, I congratulate you. If you ever want another 
 reading, come around here s my card, but perhaps 
 you ve tried Madam Spoil since. She s the best in 
 the business. I go to her myself sometimes." 
 
 He walked to the door with her and bowed her 
 out politely. 
 
 A week after he made another visit to Madam Spoil. 
 The medium was gracious and congratulatory. 
 
 "Why, you look like a new man, that s a fact !" she 
 said. "Between you and me, I never really expected 
 that you could recover, but I knew if anybody could 
 help you it would be Masterson. I suppose he come 
 pretty high, didn t he ? Two hundred ! For the land 
 sake ! I m sorry you had to fall into the hands of that 
 shark, but, after all, it s cheaper than being dead, 
 ain t it? A desperate disease requires a desperate 
 remedy, they say. I wouldn t take you for more than 
 forty years old now, in spite of your gray hairs. 
 
COMING ON 277 
 
 "Now," she continued, "you ve had experience and 
 you re in a position to know whether there s any 
 truth in spiritualism or not. No matter what anybody 
 tells you about fakes or tricks and all that nonsense 
 I don t say some so-called mediums ain t collusions 
 you ve demonstrated the truth of it for yourself, and 
 you ve found out that we can do what we say. You 
 can afford to laugh at the skeptics and these smart- 
 Alecs who pretend to know it all. What we claim can 
 be proved and you ve proved it. Lord, I d like to know 
 where you d be now if you hadn t. I ve always said: 
 Investigate it for yourself, and if you don t get satis 
 faction, leave it alone for them that do. Go at it in a 
 frank and honest spirit and try to find out the truth, 
 and you ll generally come out convinced. I don t 
 believe in no underhanded ways of going to work at it 
 neither. If you was going to study up Christian Sci 
 ence, or Mo-homedism, we ll say, you wouldn t be 
 trying to deceive them and giving false names and all, 
 and why should you when you want to find out about 
 the spirit world? What you want to do is to depend 
 upon the character of the information you get, to test 
 the truth of what we claim. You treat us square and 
 we ll treat you square. We ain t infalliable, but we 
 can help. Whatever is to be had from the spirit plane 
 we can generally get it for you." 
 
 "I m very much interested," Mr. Payson said. 
 "There does seem to be something in it, and I want 
 to get to the bottom of it. There are several things 
 I d like to get help on, too." 
 
 "Do you know, I knew they was something worry 
 ing you," she replied, smiling placidly. She laid her 
 fingers to her silken thorax. "I felt your magnetism 
 
278 THE HEART LINE 
 
 right here when you came in, and I got a feeling of 
 unpleasantness or worry. It ain t about a little thing 
 either; it s an important matter, now, ain t it?" 
 
 Mr. Payson, affected by her sympathy, admitted 
 that it was. Under his shaggy eyebrows, his cold eyes 
 watched her anxiously, as if gazing at one who might 
 wrest secrets from him. His belief in her had in 
 creased with every sitting, so that now the old man, 
 gray and bald, in his judicial frock-coat, lost some 
 thing of his influential manner and became more like 
 a child before his teacher, swayed by every word that 
 fell from her lips. 
 
 Her manner was half patronizing, half domineer 
 ing. "What did I tell you? You feel as if, well, 
 you don t quite know what to do, and you re saying to 
 yourself all the time, Now, what shall I do? That s 
 just the condition I get." 
 
 "Do you think you could help me ?" 
 
 "I don t know ; I ll try. I ain t feeling very recep 
 tive to spirit influence to-day; I guess I overeat my 
 self some ; but then again, I might be very successful ; 
 there s no telling. You just let me hold your hands 
 a few minutes and I can see right off whether con 
 ditions are favorable or not." 
 
 He did so. Suddenly she turned her head to one 
 side and spoke as if to an invisible person beside her. 
 
 "Oh, she s here, is she? What is it? She says she 
 can t find him? Well, what about him? What? 
 Shall I tell him that?" 
 
 She opened her eyes and drew a long breath. 
 
 "Luella is here and she says to tell you that Felicia 
 wants to give you a message. Do you understand who 
 I mean?" 
 
COMING ON 279 
 
 "Yes, I know. She s the lady you spoke to me 
 about before, with the white hair." 
 
 "Would her name be Felicia Grant?" 
 
 He assented timidly, as if fearing to acknowledge it. 
 
 "Well, Felicia says she has found the child her 
 child, the one that was lost. Do you understand?" 
 
 "Yes, yes. Go on !" 
 
 "Really, I don t like to tell you this, Mr. Payson " 
 
 "Tell anything." 
 
 Madam Spoil dropped her voice, as if fearful of 
 being overheard. "You was in love with her." 
 
 "Yes." He eyed her glassily. 
 
 "And you was the father of the child?" 
 
 He nodded, still staring. 
 
 Madam Spoil smiled complacently. "Well, Felicia 
 says she has found the boy, and she s going to bring 
 him to you as soon as conditions are favorable. She 
 can t do it yet; the time ain t come for it. That s all 
 I can get from her. But Luella says you re worried 
 about a book, and she wants to help you." 
 
 "How can she help?" 
 
 "Wait a minute." Madam Spoil smoothed her fore 
 head with both hands for a while, then went on: "It 
 seems that she can t work through me so well, it being 
 what you might call a business affair, and she rec 
 ommends that you try some one else, while I ll try 
 to get the boy. I think a physical medium could help 
 you more. There s Professor Vixley; he s something 
 wonderful in a business way. I confess I can t com 
 prehend it. Are you selling books?" 
 
 "Not exactly." 
 
 "Well, whatever it is, Vixley s the one to go to. 
 He ll do well by you and you can trust him. I ll just 
 
280 THE HEART LINE 
 
 write down his address; you go to see him and tell 
 him I sent you, and I guarantee he ll give satisfaction. 
 About the child, now, we ll have to wait. I shouldn t 
 wonder if you could be developed so you could handle 
 the thing alone. You ve got strong mediumistic 
 powers, only they re what you might call asleep and 
 dormant. If you could come to me oftener we might 
 be able to produce phenomena, for you re sensitive, 
 only you don t know how to put your powers to the 
 right use. You could join a circle, I suppose, but 
 the quickest way is to have sittings with me, private." 
 The old man took off his spectacles and wiped off 
 a mist. His hand was trembling. "I might want to 
 try it later," he said at last, "but I m not quite ready 
 to, yet I want to think it over. If you really think 
 that this Vixley can help about the book, I ll look him 
 up first. I want it to be a success, and I am a bit 
 worried about it." 
 
 When he reached home he went into the living- 
 room, to find Blanchard Cayley sitting there at ease, 
 bland, suave and nonchalant. Clytie had not yet re 
 turned for dinner. Mr. Payson shook his hand cor 
 dially. 
 
 "I m glad to see you, Blanchard. Been looking over 
 that last chapter of mine? What do you think of it?" 
 
 "I haven t had time to read it yet. I ve been expect 
 ing Cly home any minute." 
 
 "How are you getting on with her? Is she still 
 skittish?" 
 
 "Oh, it ll come out all right, I expect," the young 
 man said carelessly. 
 
 "I hope so! She s a good girl. I know she ll see 
 
COMING ON 281 
 
 it my way in the end you just hold on and be nice 
 to her. You know I m on your side. I d give a good 
 deal to see Cly married to a good man like you. 
 Strange, she doesn t seem to take any interest in my 
 work at all. If I didn t have you to talk to, I don t 
 know what I d do. Suppose I read you that last chap 
 ter while we re waiting for her. I d like to get your 
 criticism of it. That trade dollar material has 
 helped me immensely." 
 
 For half an hour, while Mr. Payson read the driest 
 of dry manuscripts, Blanchard Cayley yawned behind 
 his hand or nodded wisely, with an approving word 
 or two. The old man had pushed up his spectacles 
 over his forehead and held the sheets close to his eyes. 
 He read in a mellow, deep voice, but it was the voice 
 of a pedant. 
 
 "There," he said at last, stacking up the scattered 
 papers. "I guess that will open their eyes, won t it?" 
 
 "It s great ; that book will make a sensation." 
 
 "Well, it isn t finished yet, and what s to come will 
 be better than what I ve done. I m on the track of 
 something that may help it a good deal." 
 
 "What s that?" said Cayley perfunctorily. 
 
 "See here," Mr. Payson drew his chair nearer and 
 shook his pencil at the young man. "I ve had some 
 wonderful experiences lately. You may not believe it, 
 but I tell you there s something in this spiritualistic 
 business. I ve been investigating it for a month now 
 all alone, and I m thoroughly convinced that these 
 mediums do have some sort of power that we don t 
 understand." 
 
 "Really?" Cayley was beginning to be interested. 
 "I knew you had always been an agnostic, but I had 
 
282 THE HEART LINE 
 
 no idea that you had gone into this sort of thing-. 
 Have you struck anything interesting?" 
 
 "I certainly have. I went into it in a scientific spirit, 
 as a skeptic, pure and simple, but I ve received some 
 wonderful tests. Why, they told me my name the 
 very first thing and a lot about my life that they had 
 no possible way of finding out. The trouble is, they 
 know too much." 
 
 Cayley laughed. "Found out about your wild oats, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 Mr. Payson frowned at this frivolity. "There are 
 things they ve told me that no one living could pos 
 sibly know. Whether it s done through spirits or not, 
 it s mysterious business. You ought to go to a seance 
 and see what they can do." 
 
 "I d hate to have them tell my past," Cayley said 
 jocosely, "but I don t take much stock in them. 
 They re a gang of fakirs." 
 
 "They re pretty sharp, if they are. I haven t lived 
 fifty years in the West to be taken in as easily as that. 
 I ought to know something about men by this time. 
 Why, see here! You know what trouble I had with 
 my leg? It was something pretty serious. Well, look 
 at me now. You ve noticed the change yourself. I 
 went to a medium and now I m completely cured. 
 That s enough to give any one confidence, isn t it? 
 It s genuine evidence." 
 
 Cayley agreed with a solemn nod. "But what about 
 the book?" 
 
 "Why, if they can influence the right forces so that 
 it ll be a success, why shouldn t I give them a trial? 
 Look at hypnotism! Look at wireless telegraphy! 
 For that matter, look at the telephone! Fifty years 
 
COMING ON 283 
 
 ago no one would believe that such things were pos 
 sible. It may be the same with this power, whatever 
 it is, spirits or not. I m an old man, but I keep up with 
 the times. I m not going to set myself up for an 
 authority and say, because a thing hasn t seemed 
 probable to me, that I know all about the mysterious 
 forces of nature. I ve come to believe that there are 
 powers inherent in us that may be developed success 
 fully." 
 
 The incipient smile, the attitude of bantering pro 
 test had faded from Cayley s face, as the old man 
 spoke. He listened sedately. Oliver Payson was a 
 rich man. He had an attractive, marriageable daugh 
 ter. Blanchard Cayley was poor, single and without 
 prospects. 
 
 "Of course, there s much we don t yet understand," 
 he said gravely. "One hears all sorts of tales there 
 must be some foundation to them." 
 
 "That s so why, just look at Cly! She s had 
 queer things happen to her ever since she was a child." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose that s why she s so interested in 
 this palmist person; though I confess I don t take 
 much stock in him." 
 
 "What do you mean?" Mr. Payson demanded. 
 
 "Why, I thought of course you knew. Granthope, 
 the palmist you know, the fellow everybody s taking 
 up now he has been here, hasn t he? I had an idea 
 that Cly had taken rather a fancy to him." 
 
 "He was here?" Mr. Payson seemed much sur 
 prised. 
 
 "Why, I wouldn t have spoken of it for the world 
 if I had known you didn t know but I ve seen her 
 with him several times, and I thought, of course " 
 
284 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Cayley threw it out apologetically in apparent con 
 fusion at his indiscretion. 
 
 Mr. Payson stared. "Granthope, did you say? I 
 believe I have heard of him. Cly and a common 
 palmist? I can t believe it. What can she want of a 
 charlatan like that?" 
 
 "I was sorry to see it myself," Cayley admitted, 
 "but I suppose she knows what she s doing". The 
 man s notorious enough. Only, she ought to be care 
 ful." 
 
 "I won t have it!" Mr. Payson began to storm. 
 "Reading palms for a lot of silly women is a very dif 
 ferent thing from spiritualism. I don t mind her 
 going to see him once for the curiosity of the thing, 
 but I won t have him in the house. I ll put a stop to 
 that in a hurry. You say you ve seen them together? 
 Where?" 
 
 "Oh, I think it was probably an accidental meeting," 
 he said. "I wish you wouldn t say anything about it, 
 Mr. Payson. Very likely it doesn t mean anything 
 at all. Tell me about this fellow you spoke of going 
 to. Do you think he s all right?" 
 
 "I ll soon find out if he isn t trust me !" Mr. Pay- 
 son wagged his head wisely. "His name is Professor 
 Vixley, and I ve heard he s a very remarkable man. 
 I m going to see him next week and see what he can 
 do for me. I m not one to be fooled by any claptrap; 
 I intend to sift this thing to the bottom." 
 
 "How do you intend to go about it ?" Cayley asked. 
 "I ll tell you what I d do. I d ask him to answer a 
 few definite questions. If he can do that, it ll be a 
 pretty good test, even if it is only thought-reading." 
 
 "If there s anything in thought transference there 
 
COMING ON 285 
 
 may be something in spiritualism, too. One s as un- 
 explainable as the other. See here! Suppose I ask 
 him something that I don t know the answer to myself 
 wouldn t that prove it is not telepathy?" 
 
 "I should say so; but what could you ask?" 
 
 Mr. Payson had arisen, and was walking up and 
 down the room with his hands behind his back. He 
 stopped to deliberate beside the bookcase, then he 
 took down a volume at random. "Suppose I ask him 
 what the first word is on page one hundred of this 
 book." 
 
 He looked over at Cayley, then down at the title of 
 the book. 
 
 "The Astrology of the Old Testament queer I 
 should put my hand on that! I ll try it. I won t, 
 look at the page at all." He put the book back on the 
 shelf. "Can t you suggest something? Suppose you 
 give me a question that you know the answer of and 
 I don t." 
 
 Blanchard Cayley sought for an idea, his eyes fixed 
 on the ceiling. Then he said slowly : "I used to know 
 a girl once in Sacramento who lived next door to me. 
 Try Vixley on her name, why don t you ?" 
 
 "Good ! I ll do it. Now one more." 
 
 "You might ask him the number of your watch." 
 
 "That s a good idea; then I can corroborate that 
 on the spot." 
 
 "You d better let me see if there s one there, 
 though," Cayley suggested. "I believe sometimes they 
 are not numbered. Just let me look." 
 
 Mr. Payson took out his watch and handed it to the 
 young man, who opened the back cover and inspected 
 the works. He noted the number, took a second 
 
286 THE HEART LINE 
 
 glance at it and then snapped the cover shut. "All 
 right, if he can tell that number, he s clever." He 
 handed it back to Mr. Payson. "When did you say 
 you were going to see him ?" he asked. 
 
 "Next Tuesday or Wednesday, I expect," was the 
 reply. "I ve got to go up to Stockton to-morrow, 
 and I may be gone two or three days attending to 
 some business. By the by, Cayley, I heard rather a 
 queer story last week when I was up there. You re 
 interested in these romantic yarns of California; per 
 haps you d like to hear this." 
 
 "Certainly, I should. It may do for my collection 
 of Improbabilities." 
 
 "Well, I met the cashier of the Savings Bank up 
 there he s been with the bank nearly thirty years and 
 he told me the story. It seems one noon, about twenty 
 years ago, while he was alone in the bank, a little boy 
 of seven or eight years of age came in, and said he 
 wanted to deposit some money. The cashier asked 
 him how much he had, thinking, of course, that he d 
 hand out a dollar or two. The boy put a packet 
 wrapped in newspaper on the counter, and by Jove! 
 if there wasn t something over five thousand dollars, 
 in hundred-dollar greenbacks! What do you think 
 of that? The cashier asked the boy where he got so 
 much money, suspecting that it must have been stolen. 
 The boy wouldn t tell him. The cashier started round 
 the counter to hold the boy till he could investigate, 
 and, if necessary, hand him over to the police. The 
 little fellow saw him coming, got frightened, and ran 
 out the door, leaving the money on the counter. He 
 has never been heard from since." 
 
 "Well, what became of the money, then?" 
 
COMING ON 287 
 
 "Why, it had to be entered as deposited, of course. 
 The boy had written a name the cashier doesn t 
 know whether it was the boy s own name or not on 
 the margin of the newspaper, and the account stands 
 in that name, awaiting a claimant." 
 
 "What was the name?" 
 
 "The cashier wouldn t tell me, naturally. It has 
 been kept a secret. With the compound interest, the 
 money now amounts to something like double the 
 original deposit." 
 
 "It s a pity I don t know the name; I might prove 
 an alibi." 
 
 "Oh, I forgot and it really is the point of the 
 whole story. The package was wrapped in a copy of 
 Harper s Weekly, and the boy, whose hands were 
 probably dirty, had happened to press a perfect thumb- 
 print on the smooth paper. Of course, that would 
 identify him, and if any one could prove he was in 
 Stockton at that time, give the name and show that 
 his thumb was marked like that impression, the bank 
 would have to permit him to draw that account." 
 
 "That lets me out," said Cayley, "unless that par 
 ticular thumb-print happens to show a banded, duplex, 
 spiral whorl." 
 
 "What in the world do you mean?" Payson asked. 
 
 "Why, you know thumb-prints have all been classi 
 fied by Galton, and every possible variation in the form 
 of the nucleal involution and its envelope has been 
 named and arranged." 
 
 "I didn t know that," said Payson. "But I did know 
 there were no two thumbs alike. That s the way they 
 identified my partner when he was drowned. He was 
 interested in the subject, having read of the Chinese 
 
288 THE HEART LINE 
 
 method, and he happened to have a collection of 
 thumb-prints, including his own, of course, done in 
 India ink. His body was so disfigured and eaten by 
 fishes that he couldn t be recognized until, suspecting 
 it might be he, we proved it by his own marks." 
 
 "I didn t know you ever had a partner." 
 
 "Oh, that was years ago, soon after Cly was born. 
 His name was Ichabod Riley. That was a queer story, 
 too. His wife was a regular Jezebel, Madge Riley 
 was, and there s no doubt she poisoned her first two 
 husbands. She was arrested and tried for the murder 
 of the second, but the jury was hung, and she wasn t. 
 Ichabod was supposed to have been accidentally 
 drowned off Black Point, but I have good reason to 
 believe that he committed suicide on account of her. 
 He was afraid of being poisoned as well. She is sup 
 posed to have killed her own baby, too. 
 
 "Well," Mr. Payson added, rising, "I ve got to go 
 up-stairs and get ready for dinner. You ll stay, won t 
 you?" 
 
 "I ll wait till Cly gets home, at any rate, but I ll not 
 promise to dine." 
 
 The old man went up-stairs, leaving Cayley alone 
 beside the bookcase. 
 
 When he returned he found Cayley, cool and suave 
 as ever. Clytie was with him, standing proudly erect 
 on the other side of the room, a red, angry spot on 
 either cheek. She held no dreamy, listless pose now; 
 something had evidently fully awakened her, stinging 
 her into an unaccustomed fervor. Her slender white 
 hands were clasped in front of her, her bosom rose 
 and fell. Her lips were tightly closed. 
 
 Mr. Payson, near-sighted and egoistic, was oblivious 
 
COMING ON 289 
 
 of these stormy signs, and remarked genially : "You re 
 going to stay to dinner, aren t you, Blanchard?" 
 
 Blanchard Cayley drawled, "I think not, Mr. Pay- 
 son; I ll be going on, if you ll excuse me," smiling, 
 "and if Cly will." 
 
 "Don t let us keep you if you have another appoint 
 ment," she said, without looking at him. 
 
 He left after a few more words with the old man, 
 who began at last to smell something wrong. 
 
 "What s the matter, Cly ?" he asked. 
 
 She had sat down and was pretending to read. Now 
 she looked up casually: 
 
 "Oh, nothing much, father, except that he was im 
 pertinent enough to question me about something that 
 didn t concern him." 
 
 "H m !" Mr. Payson took a seat with a grunt and 
 unfolded his newspaper. "I m sorry you two don t 
 get on any better." 
 
 "We d get on well enough if he d only believe that 
 when I say no* I mean it." 
 
 He stared at her, suddenly possessed by a new 
 thought. "Is there anybody else in the field, Cly?" 
 
 "There are many other men that I prefer to Blanch 
 ard Cayley." 
 
 "What is this about* your being with this palmist 
 chap?" 
 
 "Did Blanchard tell you that?" she asked with ex 
 quisite scorn. 
 
 "Have you seen much of this Granthope ?" 
 
 "I ve seen him four times." 
 
 "And you have invited him to my house?" 
 
 "He has been here." 
 
 Mr. Payson rose and shook his eye-glasses at her. 
 
290 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I must positively forbid that!" he exclaimed. "I 
 won t have you receiving that fellow here. From what 
 I hear of him he s a fakir, and I won t encourage him 
 in his attempts to get into society at my expense." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you forbid him the house, 
 father? Isn t that a bit melodramatic? I wouldn t 
 make a scene about it. I am twenty-seven and I m 
 not absolutely a fool. I think you can trust me." 
 
 "Then what have you been doing with him ? What 
 does it all mean, anyway?" 
 
 "As soon as I know what it means, I ll tell you. 
 At present, I think we had better not discuss Mr. 
 Granthope." 
 
 He blustered for a while longer, iterating his re 
 proaches, then simmered down into a morose con 
 dition, which lasted through dinner. Clytie knew 
 better than to discuss the subject with him. Her 
 calmness had returned, though she kept her color and 
 did not talk. The two went into the library and read. 
 
 Shortly after eight o clock the door-bell rang. As 
 it was not answered promptly, Mr. Payson, still nerv 
 ous, irascible and impatient, went out into the hall, 
 growling at the servant s delay. 
 
 He opened the door, to see Francis Granthope, 
 rather white-faced under his black hair, supporting 
 himself on crutches. 
 
 "Is Miss Payson at home?" he asked, taking off 
 his hat. 
 
 "Yes, she is. Won t you step in ? What name shall 
 I give her, please?" Mr. Payson spoke hospitably. 
 
 "Thank you. Mr. Granthope," was the answer. 
 
 The old man turned suddenly and returned his visi 
 tor s hat. 
 
COMING ON 291 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said sternly, "but Miss Pay- 
 son is not at home for you and I don t intend that 
 she ever shall be. I have heard enough about you, 
 Mr. Granthope, and I desire to say that I can not 
 consent to your being received in my house. You re 
 a charlatan and a fakir, sir, and I do not consider you 
 either my daughter s social equal nor one with a char 
 acter respectable enough to associate with her. I 
 must ask you to leave this house, sir, and not to come 
 again." 
 
 Granthope s eyes glowed, and his jaws came to 
 gether with determination. But he said only : 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Payson, I m sure that I do not 
 care to call if I m not welcome. This is, of course, 
 no place to discuss the subject, but I shall not come 
 here again , without your consent. As to my meeting 
 her again, that lies wholly with her. You may be sure 
 that I shall not annoy her with my attentions if she 
 doesn t care to see me. But I ask you, as a matter of 
 courtesy, to let Miss Payson know that I have called." 
 
 "See that you keep your word, sir that s all I have 
 to say," was Mr. Payson s reply, and he stood in the 
 doorway to watch his visitor down the garden walk. 
 He remained there until Granthope had descended 
 the steps, then walked down after him and watched 
 him to the corner. 
 
 Mr. Payson returned to the library sullenly. 
 
 "That palmist of yours had the impertinence to 
 come here and ask for you," he informed Clytie, "but 
 I sent him about his business, and I expect he won t 
 be back in a hurry." 
 
 Clytie looked up with a white face. "Mr. Grant- 
 hope, father?" She rose proudly and faced him. "Do 
 
2Q2 THE HEART LINE 
 
 you mean to say that you were rude enough to turn 
 him away? It s impossible!" 
 
 Mr. Pay son walked up and down the room in a 
 dudgeon. 
 
 "I certainly did send him away, and what s more, I 
 told him not to come back." 
 
 Clytie, without another word, ran out into the hall. 
 The front door was flung open and her footsteps could 
 be heard on the gravel walk. Mr. Payson seated him 
 self sulkily. 
 
 In five minutes more she had returned, slowly, her 
 hair blown into a fine disorder, the color flaming in 
 her cheeks, her eyes quickened. 
 
 "What in the world have you been doing?" her 
 father demanded. 
 
 "I wanted to apologize for your rudeness," she an 
 swered, "but I was too late." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 
 
 "He gives exact and truthful revelations of all 
 love affairs, settles lovers quarrels, enables you to 
 win the affection and esteem of any one you desire, 
 causes speedy and happy marriages " 
 
 Granthope put down the paper with a look of dis 
 gust. It was his own advertisement, and it had 
 appeared daily for months. He took up his desk tele 
 phone with a jerk, and called up the Chronicle busi 
 ness office. 
 
 "This is Granthope, the palmist. Please take out 
 my displayed ad., and insert only this: Francis Grant- 
 hope, Palmist. 141 Geary St., Readings, Ten Dollars. 
 Only by Appointment. Ten till Four/ " 
 
 There was now a red-headed office boy in the cor 
 ner where Fancy Gray used to sit. Granthope missed 
 her jaunty spirit and unfailing comradeship. Not 
 even his endeavor to give his profession a scientific 
 aspect amused him any longer. He had lost interest 
 in his work. He was uneasy, dissatisfied, blue. He 
 went into his studio listlessly, with a frown printed 
 on his brow. Until his first client appeared he lay 
 upon the big couch, his eyes fixed upon the light. 
 
 He had been there a few moments when his office 
 boy knocked, and opening the door, injected his red 
 head. 
 
 "Say, dere s a lady in here to see you, Mr. Grant- 
 hope I" 
 
 293 
 
294 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 The boy grinned. "By de name of Lucie. Says 
 you know her." 
 
 "Tell her I can t see her." 
 
 Granthope turned away, and the boy left. 
 
 The room was as quiet as a padded cell, full of a 
 soft, velvety blackness, except where the single drop- 
 lamp lighted up the couch. Ordinarily the place was, 
 in its strange dark emptiness, a restful, comforting 
 retreat. Now it imprisoned him. Above his head 
 the great ring of embroidered zodiacal signs shone 
 with a golden luster. They were the symbols of the 
 mysterious dignity of the past, of the dark ages of 
 thought, of priestcraft and secret wisdom of the blind 
 centuries that had gone. But, a modern, incongru 
 ously set about with such medieval relics, he felt for 
 the first time, undignified. In their time these em 
 blems had represented all that existed of knowledge. 
 Now, to him they stood for all that was left of ignor 
 ance and superstition; and it was upon such instru 
 ments he played. 
 
 He read palms perfunctorily that Saturday. He 
 seemed to hear his own voice all the while, and some 
 dissociated function of his mind scoffed continually at 
 his chicanery. It was the same old formula : "You are 
 not understood by those about you. You crave sym 
 pathy, and it is refused. You are extraordinarily 
 sensitive, but when you are most hurt you often say 
 nothing. You have an intuitive knowledge of people. 
 You have a wonderful power of appreciation and 
 criticism. People confide in you. You are impulsive, 
 but your instinct is usually sure" the same profes 
 sional, easy rigamarole, colored with what hints his 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 295 
 
 quick eyes gave him or his flagging imagination sug 
 gested. 
 
 Women listened avidly, drinking in every word. 
 How could he help telling them what they loved so to 
 hear ? They asked questions so suggestive that a child 
 might have answered. They prolonged the discussion 
 of themselves, obviously enjoying his apparent interest. 
 He caught himself again and again playing with their 
 credulity, their susceptibility, and hated himself for it. 
 They lingered, smiling self-consciously, and he delayed 
 them with a look. In very perversity, he began delib 
 erately to flatter their vanity in order to see to what 
 inordinate pitch of conceit their minds would rise. 
 He affected indifference, and even scorn they fol 
 lowed after him still more eagerly. He grew, at last, 
 almost savagely critical, an instinct of cruelty aroused 
 by such complacent, egregious egoism. They fawned 
 on him, like spaniels under the lash. 
 
 After a solitary dinner he returned to his rooms. 
 For an hour or two he tried to lose himself in the 
 study of a medical book. Medicine had long been his 
 passion and his library was well equipped. Had he 
 been reading to prepare himself for practice he could 
 not have been more thorough. To-night, however, 
 he found it hard to fix his attention, and in despair he 
 took up a volume of Casanova s Memoirs. There was 
 an indefatigable charlatan! The fascinating Cheva 
 lier had never wearied in ill-doing; he kept his zest 
 to the last. He skipped to another volume to follow 
 the pursuit of Henriette, of "C. V.," of Therese. 
 The perusal amused him, and he gx>t back something 
 of his cynical indifference. 
 
 It was after eleven o clock when he laid down the 
 
296 THE HEART LINE 
 
 book and rose to look, abstractedly, out of the office 
 window. He longed for an adventure that should 
 reinstate him as his old careless self. 
 
 He left his rooms, went up to Powell Street and 
 finally wandered into the noisy gaiety of the Techau 
 Tavern. The place was running full with after-theater 
 gatherings, and he had hard work to find a table. All 
 about him was a confusion of excited talk, the clatter 
 of dishes, the riotous music of an insistent orchestra. 
 Parties were entering all the while, beckoned to places 
 by the head waiter. The place was garish with lights 
 and mirrors. 
 
 Granthope had sat there ten minutes or so, sipping 
 his glass, noticing, here and there, clients whom he 
 had served, when, between the heads of two women, 
 far across the room, he recognized Mrs. Page. It was 
 not long before she saw him, caught his eye, and 
 signaled with vivacity. The diversion was agreeable ; 
 he rose and went over. A glance at her table showed 
 him a company most of whose members he had met 
 before, but with whom, only a few months since, he 
 would have counted it a social success to be considered 
 intimate. While not being quite of the elect, they held 
 the key of admission to many high places in virtue of 
 their wit and ingenious powers to please. They were 
 such as insured amusement. Granthope himself was 
 this evening desirous of being amused. 
 
 With Mrs. Page was Frankie Dean, the irrepressible, 
 voluble, sarcastic, a devil in her black, snapping eyes, 
 as cold-blooded as a snake. It was she who had so 
 nearly embarrassed him at the Chinese supper at the 
 Maxwells . She eyed him now, dark, feline, whim 
 sically watching her chance to make sport of him. 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 297 
 
 [With them was a young girl from Santa Rosa, newly 
 come to San Francisco, an alien in such a company. 
 She was slight and dewy, vivid with sudden color, 
 with soft, fervent eyes that had not yet learned to 
 face such audacity as her companions practised. Keith 
 and Fernigan were there, also, like a vaudeville team, 
 rollicking with fun, playing into each other s hands, 
 charging the company with abandon. Lastly, "Sully" 
 Maxwell sat, silent, happy, indulgent, with his pockets 
 filled with twenty dollar gold-pieces, which he got rid 
 of at every opportunity. He spoke about once every 
 fifteen minutes, and then usually to the waiter. "A 
 good spender" was Sully that quality and his un 
 failing good-nature carried him into the gayest circles 
 and kept him there unnoticed, until the bills were to 
 be paid. 
 
 To Granthope, tired with his day s work, in conflict 
 with himself, morbidly self-conscious, the scene was 
 stimulating. There was an atmosphere of inconse 
 quent mirth in the group, which dissolved his mood 
 immediately. The women, smartly dressed, bubbling 
 with spirit, quick with repartee Keith and Fernigan, 
 their sparkling dialogue interrupted, waiting for an 
 other auditor even Sully, prosperous, good-natured, 
 hospitably making him welcome the group attracted 
 him, rejuvenated him, enveloped him with their friv 
 olity. The party was in the first effervescence of its 
 enthusiasm. Mrs. Page was at her sprightly best, 
 impellent, a gorgeous animal. Even Frankie Dean, 
 whom he did not like, was temptingly piquant and 
 brisk. The little girl had a novelty and virginal charm. 
 He had been out of his element all day. Here, he 
 could be himself. He could take things easily and 
 
298 THE HEART LINE 
 
 jocosely, and have no thought of consequences. His 
 mood disappeared like a shattered soap-bubble, and he 
 was caught into their jubilant atmosphere. 
 
 He was introduced to the girl from Santa Rosa, 
 who looked up at him timidly but with evident curi 
 osity, as at a celebrity, and sat down between her and 
 Mrs. Page. Sully Maxwell took advantage of the 
 new arrival to order another round of drinks club 
 sandwiches, golden bucks till he was stopped by 
 Frankie Dean. Keith and Fernigan recommenced 
 their wit. Mrs. Page looked at him with all kinds of 
 messages in her eyes, as if she were quite sure that 
 he could interpret them. The girl from Santa Rosa 
 said nothing, but, from time to time, gave him a shy, 
 curious glance from her big brown eyes. Granthope s 
 spirits rose steadily, but his excitement had in it 
 something hectic. In a sudden pause he seemed to 
 remember that he had been speaking rather too loudly. 
 
 After the party had refused, unanimously, further 
 refreshment, Sully proposed that they should all drive 
 out to the Cliff House, and they left the restaurant 
 forthwith to set out on this absurd expedition. It was 
 already long past midnight ; the adventure was a char 
 acteristic San Francisco pastime for the giddier spirits 
 of the town. 
 
 Sully was for hiring two hacks; Mrs. Page, gig 
 gling, vetoed the proposition, and Frankie Dean sup 
 ported her. Decidedly that would be commonplace; 
 why break up the party? The girl from Santa Rosa 
 looked alarmed at the prospect. Granthope smiled 
 at her ingenuousness, and liked her for it. The result 
 of the sidewalk discussion was that Sully obligingly 
 mounted beside the driver, and the six others squeezed 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 299 
 
 into the carriage, the door banged, and they proceeded 
 on their hilarious way toward the "Panhandle" of the 
 Park. On the rear seat Granthope sat with Mrs. 
 Page and Frankie Dean on either hand, protesting 
 that they were perfectly comfortable. Opposite him 
 the girl from Santa Rosa leaned forward on the edge 
 of the cushion, shrinking away from the two men 
 beside her. 
 
 Mrs. Page made an ineffectual search in the dark 
 for Granthope s hand. Not finding it, she began to 
 sing, under her breath : 
 
 "It was not like this in the olden time, 
 It was not like this, at all!" 
 
 and Frankie Dean, quick-witted enough to understand 
 the situation, remarked, "Oh, Mr. Granthope doesn t 
 read palms free, Violet; you ought to know that!" 
 She darted a look at him. 
 
 So it went on frothily, with chattering, laughter, 
 snatches of song, jests and stories, punctuated occa 
 sionally by the rapping of Sully s cane on the window 
 of the carriage, as he leaned over in a jovial attempt 
 to participate in the fun. Granthope, for a while, 
 led the spirit of gaiety that prevailed, told a story 
 or two, "jollied" Mrs. Page, laughed at Keith s in 
 consequence, accepted Frankie Dean s challenges. 
 But the frank, bewildered eyes of the little girl from 
 Santa Rosa, fixed upon him, disconcerted him more 
 than once. 
 
 The carriage soon entered Golden Gate Park. The 
 night was warm and still, the dusk pervaded with 
 perfumes. Under the slope of Strawberry Hill Max- 
 
300 THE HEART LINE 
 
 well stopped the carriage and ordered them all out to 
 invade the shadowy stillness with revelry. The night 
 air was that of belated summer, full of a languor that 
 comes seldom to San Francisco which has neither real 
 summer nor real winter, and the wildness of the place, 
 remote, unvisited, was exhilarating. A mock minuet 
 was started, races run, even trees climbed by Frankie 
 Dean the audacious, with shrieks and laughter, all 
 childishly with the sheer joy of living. Granthope and 
 the girl from Santa Rosa, after watching the sport 
 with amusement for a while, left the rest and walked on 
 past a turn of the road, to stand there, discussing the 
 stars, while the cries of the two women came softened 
 along the sluggish breeze. The girl took off her hat 
 and breathed deeply of the night air. They walked on 
 farther through the gloom, till only an occasional 
 faint shout reached them from the party. Granthope 
 put the girl at her ease, pointed out the planets and the 
 constellations and explained the principles of ancient 
 astrology. They had begun to forget the rest when 
 they were overtaken and captured again and the 
 frowded carriage took its way towards the sea. 
 
 Upon a high ledge of rock jutting out into the 
 Pacific, at the very entrance to the Bay of San Fran 
 cisco, stands the Cliff House, a white, wooden, 
 many-windowed monstrosity with glazed verandas, 
 cupolas, frivolous dormers, cheap, garish, bulky, gay, 
 seemingly almost toppling into the water. Here come 
 not only such innocently holidaying folk as Fancy 
 Gray and Gay P. Summer, not only jaded tourists and 
 the Sunday-outing citizens who lie upon the warm 
 beach below and doze away a morning in the sun and 
 wind. It was patronized of old by the buggy-riding 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 301 
 
 fraternity, the smokers, the spenders, with their lights- 
 o -love, as the most popular of road-houses. The cable- 
 cars and the two "dummy" railroad lines have changed 
 its character somewhat, but it is still a show-place of 
 the town. There is good eating, a gorgeous view of 
 the Pacific, and the sea-lions on the rocks below. 
 
 Here Mrs. Page s party alighted, near three o clock 
 in the morning. The bar only was open, its white- 
 frocked attendant sleeping behind the counter. This 
 they entered, yawning from their ride. The barkeeper 
 was awakened, peremptorily, and was ordered to pre 
 pare what he had for refreshment. With hot beans 
 from the heater, tamales, potato salad, cold cuts, 
 crackers and cheese, he laid a table in a small dining- 
 room. Sully Maxwell undertook all the arrangements, 
 fraternized with the barkeeper, selected beverages, 
 not forgetting ginger ale for the girl from Santa Rosa. 
 Mrs. Page and Frankie Dean, somewhat disheveled, 
 retired, to appear trig and trim and glossy in the gas 
 light, ready for more gaiety. Granthope, meanwhile, 
 had wandered out upon the veranda to watch the surf 
 dashing on the rocks, to note the yellow gleam from 
 the Point Bonita light, and smell the salt air; to get 
 his courage up, in short, for another round of anima 
 tion. The instant he returned Mrs. Page went at 
 him. 
 
 "Now, Frank," she said, "it won t do to sulk or to 
 flirt with Santa Rosa. What s got into you, anyway? 
 You must positively do something to amuse us." 
 
 "Office hours from ten till four," Keith murmured 
 audibly. 
 
 Frankie Dean turned on him: "They never let you 
 out of your cage at all !" 
 
302 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Fernigan, thereat, began an absurd pantomime that 
 half terrified the girl from Santa Rosa. He pretended 
 to be a monkey behind the bars of a cage, eating pea 
 nuts and worse. It was shockingly funny. The 
 company roared, all but Granthope. He was at the 
 point of impatience, but replied with what sounded 
 like ennui: 
 
 "I m a bit stale, Violet ; you ll have to excuse me if 
 I m stupid to-night. I came to be entertained." 
 
 Frankie Dean looked at him mischievously. "Never 
 mind, Mr. Granthope, she ll come back." 
 
 It was obviously no more than a cant phrase, in 
 tended for a witticism. Mrs. Page, however, took it 
 up with mock seriousness. 
 
 "Who s she , now? I m back in the chorus again! 
 There was a time, Frank " Her voice was sentimen 
 tal ; she tilted her head and looked at him, under half- 
 closed eyelids, across the table. 
 
 "I say, Granthope, you ought to publish an illus 
 trated catalogue of em. There s nothing doing for 
 amateurs, nowadays. When women pay five dollars to 
 have their hands held what chance is there for us? * 
 This from Keith, with burlesque emphasis. 
 
 Mrs. Page would not be diverted. "No, but really, 
 Frank ; who is she ? I ve quite lost track of your con 
 quests." 
 
 "Oh, you know I m wedded to my art/ he said 
 lightly. 
 
 "Yes, and it s the art of making love, isn t it?" 
 
 No further seek his merits to disclose, " said 
 Keith, and Fernigan added, " Nor draw his frailties 
 [from their dread abode. " 
 
 The girl from Santa Rosa looked suddenly bursting 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 303 
 
 with intelligence, recognizing the quotation. She 
 started to finish it, then stopped; her lips moved si 
 lently. Granthope smiled. 
 
 Frankie Dean had been watching her chance for 
 another at his expense. Now she asked, with apparent 
 frankness: "Mr. Granthope, can you tell character by 
 the lines on the soles of the feet?" 
 
 "Science of Solistry," murmured Keith to the Santa 
 Rosa girl. 
 
 "Let s try it!" Mrs. Page exclaimed. "I will, for 
 one ! Do you know my second toe s longer than my 
 great toe? I m awfully proud of it. I can prove it, 
 too !" 
 
 "Go on !" Frankie Dean dared her. 
 
 The girl from Santa Rosa stared, her lips apart. 
 "Why, every one s is, aren t they?" 
 
 "No such thing!" Mrs. Page stopped and almost 
 blushed. A chorus of laughter. 
 
 "Oh, there are a good many better ways of telling 
 character than that," said Granthope. 
 
 "Yes," Keith put in. "Indiscreet remarks, for in 
 stance." 
 
 Mrs. Page bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders. 
 "Oh, if I were going in for indiscreet remarks I might 
 make a few about you!" 
 
 Here Sully interposed. "Isn t this conversation 
 getting rather personal? I move we discard all these 
 low cards. This is no woman s club. The quiet life 
 for mine." 
 
 The hint was taken by Keith, who began an English 
 music-hall song, to the effect that "John was a nice 
 good usband, e never cared to roam, e only wanted 
 a quiet life, e only wanted a quiet wife ; there e would 
 
304 THE HEART LINE 
 
 sit by the fireside, such a chilly man was John " 
 where he was joined in the chorus by Fernigan "Oh, 
 I opes and trusts there s a nice ot fire, where my old 
 man s gone !" Maxwell pounded in time upon the 
 table. The girl from Santa Rosa hazarded a laugh. 
 
 Granthope looked on listlessly, ever more detached 
 and introspective. This was what he had been used to, 
 since he could remember, but now, in the stuffy little 
 room, with its ghastly yellow gas-light, the smell of 
 eatables and wine, the pallor of the women s faces, the 
 flush of Maxwell s, the desperate frivolity, the artifi 
 ciality of it all bored him. He wondered, whimsically, 
 why he had ever looked forward to being the com 
 panion of such a society as this. It was all harmless 
 enough, unconventional as it was, but he tasted the 
 ashes in his mouth. Perhaps, after all, he was only 
 not in the mood for it. He tried to smile again. 
 
 Fernigan seized a small Turkish rug from the floor 
 and hung it in front of him, like a chasuble. Standing 
 before the company he intoned a sacrilegious parody, 
 like everything he did, funny, like everything he did, 
 atrocious : 
 
 . "O, sanctissimus nabisco in Colorado maduro domino 
 te deum, e pluribus unum vice versa et circus hippo- 
 criticam, mephisto apollinaris mix vomica dolores 
 intimidad mores; O rara avis per diem cum magnum 
 vino et sappho modus vivendi felicitas," to the droned 
 "A men." 
 
 Keith then enlivened the company with what quaint 
 parlor tricks he knew, or dared, from making of a 
 napkin a ballet dancer pirouetting upon one toe, to 
 limericks that were suppressed by Sully Maxwell. 
 Mrs. Pag e laughed prodigiously, showing all her 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 305 
 
 teeth., staring with her great eyes, vivid in her every 
 expression, flamboyant, sleek and glossy, abounding 
 in temperament. Frankie Dean smiled maliciously 
 and plied the performers with her acrid wit. The 
 girl from Santa Rosa listened, her cheeks burning. 
 
 At six they went outside for fresh air and prome 
 naded the glazed veranda until the sun rose. In front 
 of them was the broad Pacific, stretching out to the 
 Farralones, even to Japan. To the north, across the 
 bar, yellowed with alluvium from the San Joaquin and 
 Sacramento Rivers, a mountainous coast stretched to 
 far, misty Bolinas. Southward ran the broad, wide 
 beach exposed by the ebb tide. It was damp and coo] ; 
 the last spasm of summer had given way to the brisk, 
 stimulating weather that was San Francisco s usual 
 habit. Granthope buttoned his light overcoat tightly 
 over his rumpled evening dress and walked with the 
 girl from Santa Rosa, enjoying the scene quietly, 
 speaking in monosyllables. The others had a new 
 burst of effervescence, still more desperate than ever; 
 their hilarity was indefatigable. Keith walked along 
 the tops of the tables, leading Mrs. Page. Frankie 
 Dean and Fernigan two-stepped the length and 
 breadth of the wide platform, joking incessantly. 
 
 A walk up the beach was then suggested, and, after 
 a preliminary furbishing of faces and hair, they went 
 down the steep rocky road to the wide strand, and 
 proceeded along the shore. 
 
 Granthope, falling behind, saw that the girl from 
 Santa Rosa alone had waited for him. She gazed at 
 him steadily with grave eyes. 
 
 "Well," he said kindly, "what d you think of San 
 Francisco ?" 
 
306 THE HEART LINE 
 
 She looked down at the sand and drew a circle 
 with her toe before she answered. 
 
 "It s pretty gay here, isn t it?" 
 
 "Oh, well, if you call this sort of thing gay !" 
 
 The girl looked immensely relieved, gave him a 
 quick, searching glance, and said shyly : "Do you know, 
 Mr. Granthope, I have an idea that you didn t enjoy 
 it any more than I did!" 
 
 He smiled at her, then silently grasped her hand. 
 She blushed and turned away. 
 
 "I thought it was going to be great fun," she said, 
 as they walked on. "I never was up all night before. 
 It s awfully exciting. But people do look awful in the 
 morning, don t they?" 
 
 She herself was like a blossom wet with dew, but 
 Granthope knew what she meant, well enough. He 
 had watched the lines come into Mrs. Page s face and 
 her mouth droop at the corners; he had noticed the 
 glitter fade from Frankie Dean s black eyes, and her 
 lids grow heavy. 
 
 "You ought never to have come," he said. "I think 
 you d better go home and get to bed. Suppose we 
 leave them and walk across to the almshouse and take 
 the Haight Street cars?" 
 
 "Oh, d you think they d mind, if we did?" 
 
 "They d never notice that we were gone, I m sure." 
 
 "I m afraid yon ll find me awfully stupid. Miss 
 Dean is very witty, isn t she?" 
 
 "I d rather be stupid." 
 
 "You re sure I won t bore you?" 
 
 "I don t feel much like talking, myself. I have 
 plenty to think about. Suppose we don t say anything, 
 unless we have something to say." 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 307 
 
 "Oh, I didn t know you could do that in San 
 Francisco !" 
 
 He laughed sincerely for the first time that night. 
 
 As they came to the place where the beach road 
 turned off for Ingleside, the rest of the party was some 
 distance ahead. They were sitting upon some rocks, 
 and, as Granthope looked, he saw Mrs. Page rise, lift 
 her skirts and walk barefooted across the sands, down 
 to the water s edge. She turned and waved her hand 
 to him. He took off his hat to her and pointed inland 
 in reply. Then he climbed the low sand-hills with his 
 companion and struck off southward, along the road. 
 The girl had colored again. 
 
 Her confidence in him was soothing. She was so 
 serious and innocent, so quick with a country girl s 
 delicate observation of nature, that he fell into a more 
 placid state of mind. She became more friendly all 
 the while, till, despite her confession of shyness, she 
 fairly prattled. He let her run on, scarcely listening, 
 busy with his own thoughts. And so, up the long 
 road to the almshouse, resting in the pale sunshine 
 occasionally, through the Park to the end of the Haight 
 Street cable-line they walked, and talked ingenuously. 
 
 She lived in "The Mission," and there, having 
 nothing better to do, he escorted her, and at last, in 
 that jumble of wooden buildings so multitudinously 
 prosaic, between the Twin Peaks and the Old Mission, 
 he left her. She bade him good-by apparently with 
 regret. Widely different as they were in mind and 
 temperament, they had, for their hour, come closely to 
 gether. Now they were to recede, never again, per 
 haps, to meet. 
 
 He walked in town along Valencia Street, through 
 
308 THE HEART LINE 
 
 that curious "hot belt" which defies the town s normal 
 state of weather, turned up Van Ness Avenue, still 
 too busy with his reflections to shut himself up in his 
 studio. It was Sunday morning he had almost for 
 gotten the day and he turned up his collar, to con 
 ceal what he could of his evening attire and its wilted, 
 rumpled linen, somewhat uncomfortable in the pres 
 ence of the church-going throngs which pervaded the 
 avenue. 
 
 He had reached the top of the long slope leading 
 to the Black Point military reservation, and was paus 
 ing upon the corner of Lombard Street, when, looking 
 up the hill, he saw Clytie Payson coming down the 
 steep, irregular pathway that did service for a side 
 walk. He stepped behind a lamp-post and watched 
 her, uncertain whether or not to let her see him. 
 
 She came tripping down, picking her way along 
 the cleated double plank, too intent upon her footsteps 
 to look far ahead. The sight of her made him a little 
 trepid with excitement; it focused his dissatisfaction 
 with himself. He knew, now, what had disturbed him. 
 It was the thought of her. She had forced him to 
 look at himself from a new point of view, with a 
 new, critical vision. He longed for her approval. Her 
 gentle coercion was drawing him into new channels 
 of life, and he felt a sudden need for her help. He 
 was losing his whilom comrades, his old familiar asso 
 ciations repelled him. He had nothing to sustain him 
 now, but the thought of her friendship. 
 
 But, in his present state, he had not the courage to 
 address her. As a child plays with circumstances and 
 makes his own omens, he left the decision to chance. 
 If she turned and saw him, he would greet her and 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 309 
 
 throw himself on her grace. If not, he would pass on 
 without speaking, much as he longed to speak. 
 
 She came down to the corner diagonally opposite 
 and paused for a moment, looking off at the mountains 
 and the waters of the Golden Gate. He saw her make 
 a sudden movement, as if waking from her abstraction, 
 then she walked over in his direction. He came out 
 from his cover and went to meet her. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Granthope !" She was smiling, 
 holding out her hand. "I thought I recognized you! 
 Something told me to stop a moment, and wait Then 
 suddenly I saw you. You see, you can t escape me !" 
 
 He was visibly embarrassed, conscious of his signifi 
 cantly unkempt appearance. She, however, did not 
 show that she noticed it. 
 
 "How is your ankle?" was her first inquiry. He 
 assured her that it had given him no trouble for a 
 week, and he expressed his thanks to her for her help. 
 
 "I ve been hoping I might see you," she said, "to 
 apologize for the reception you received the last time 
 you called. I can t tell you how unhappy it made me, 
 nor how I regret it." 
 
 "Mayn t I see you a while now?" He felt at 
 such a disadvantage in his present condition that 
 it was embarrassing to be with her, and yet he longed 
 for another hour of companionship. 
 
 "Let s walk down to the Point," she said. "I can 
 get in the reservation, and it will be beautiful." 
 
 As they walked down across the empty space at 
 the foot of the avenue and along the board-walk over 
 the sand, she talked inconsequently of the day and the 
 scene, evidently attempting to put him at his ease. 
 The little girl from Santa Rosa had given him a 
 
3 io THE HEART LINE 
 
 passive comfort. Clytie s companionship was an ac 
 tive and inspiring joy. His depression ceased; a sane, 
 wholesome content filled him. He watched her grace 
 ful, leopard-like swing and the evidences of vitality 
 that impelled her movements. 
 
 They passed the sentry who nodded to her at the 
 gate, went past the officers quarters, down a little 
 path lined with piled cannon-balls, out to a small 
 promontory that overlooked the harbor. Here there 
 was an old Spanish brass cannon in its wooden mortar- 
 carriage, and a seat on the very edge of the bluff. 
 The harbor extended wide to the southeast. Inshore 
 was a covey of white-sailed yachts in regatta, just tack 
 ing, to beat across to Lime Point, opposite. 
 
 As they sat down, Clytie said, "Now do tell me 
 about Miss Gray. How is she?" 
 
 "She s not with me any more." 
 
 She lifted her brows. "Where is she?" 
 
 "I don t know, quite." 
 
 "You haven t seen her since she left?" 
 
 "No, not for two weeks." 
 
 Clytie frowned and bit her lip, then shook her head 
 silently. Then she remarked, as if to herself, "I like 
 her. I m sure she s fine." 
 
 "She likes you, too." 
 
 "I wish I might see her," she went on, her eyes 
 fixed on the mountains. "I d like to do something 
 for her. I might get her a position in my father s 
 office, I m sure, if she d take it. I have a curious 
 feeling, though, that it is she who will be more likely 
 to do something for me." 
 
 "If she ever can, you may be sure she will. Fancy 
 is true blue." 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 311 
 
 "You didn t have any misunderstanding with her, 
 did you?" 
 
 "Oh, no." 
 
 She seemed to notice his reluctance to explain, and 
 did not pursue the subject. 
 
 She turned and her eyes fell upon his hand, which 
 lay carelessly upon his knee. "Let me see your palm," 
 she said impulsively. "I ve never looked at it care 
 fully. I suppose you ve told your own fortune often 
 enough." 
 
 He gave his left hand to her. She barely touched 
 it, holding it lightly, but he felt the magnetism of the 
 contact almost as a caress. "You ll find my line of 
 fate shows that I m to change my career," he re 
 marked. "It s broken at the head line, you see, and 
 begins over again." 
 
 "Now, let me look at your right hand." 
 
 She looked at it, and her expression changed subtly. 
 It was as if she had found some secret satisfaction 
 in his palm, some answer to her desires. 
 
 "What d you see?" 
 
 "The heart line." 
 
 In his left hand it began near the root of the second 
 finger, at the mount of Saturn, not, as he would have 
 preferred, farther toward the index finger, at the 
 mount of Jupiter. He wondered if that meant to her 
 what it did, in his professional capacity, to him an 
 indication of more sensual tastes. Half its length 
 was cobwebbed with tiny branches, and punctuated 
 with islands ; then it ran, deep and clear to the edge 
 of the palm, almost straight. In his right palm the 
 line was cleaner, simpler, undivided. 
 
 She had begun to color, faintly ; she had turned her 
 
312 THE HEART LINE 
 
 eyes from him. Into her loveliness had come a new 
 element of charm. There was something special in it, 
 something for him alone; it was as if she had been 
 signaling to him, and he had not, till now, understood. 
 Instantly every line in her body seemed to be imbued 
 with a* new grace, a new meaning, translating her 
 spirit. He was too full of the inspiration to speak; 
 he could only look at her, irradiated, as if he had 
 never seen her before. To his admiration for her 
 beauty, his respect for her character, his interest in her 
 mind, there was added something more ; the total was 
 not to be accounted for by the sum of these. And 
 the wonderful whole satisfied the divine fastidiousness 
 of his nature. She was for him the supreme choice. 
 Her mind worked like his. Her very size pleased him. 
 He seemed to know her for the first time. He had 
 desired her, before, for her beauty and her intelli 
 gence; he had thought calmly of love and marriage. 
 But now he felt the supreme demand for possession, 
 
 because only because he must have her because 
 
 nothing else in his life mattered. 
 
 A secret ray of thought seemed to carry the message 
 back to her, for, apparently embarrassed by the inten 
 sity of his silence, she rose and walked a few paces, 
 with her hands behind her back, gazing off at the 
 harbor. It was not thought that he sent, however, 
 for he could not think; it was a new function of his 
 soul aroused, excited, thrilling him with the power 
 of its vibration. 
 
 When that wave broke, he was at a loss for words. 
 How could he say how much he wanted her? How 
 could he ask if she, too, felt that same thrill, while 
 he winced under this new, mortifying sense of the 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 313 
 
 cheapness and falsity of his life? He could not yet 
 bring himself to confess the miserable truths; it was 
 not the larger, more obvious things he was afraid of, 
 for she knew well enough of these but one or two 
 shameful details came into his mind and made hirm 
 shrink from himself. 
 
 She turned to him again, composed, though still she 
 showed elation. 
 
 "I m sorry Fancy had to go," she said earnestly. 
 Her eyes were steady, though her lips were still quiv 
 ering. 
 
 "It was too bad. But it was necessary." 
 
 She gave him a swift, searching look. 
 
 "Oh! Then you are finding out?" 
 
 "I m being pushed on, somehow. It s really queer, 
 as if the force came from outside of myself " 
 
 "Oh, no! I m sure not!" 
 
 "Something is working out in me " 
 
 Clytie smiled rarely, her face illuminated. "Oh, fate 
 deals the cards, but we have to play them ourselves. 
 And I think you ve taken several tricks already." 
 
 "You mean about Fancy Gray?" 
 
 "No that I can t judge I never have judged. 
 Your advertisement in the papers." 
 
 He was immensely surprised, pleased. "You have 
 noticed that already? Why, this is only the very first 
 day" 
 
 "I have watched for it every day." 
 
 There was another pause. Her remark was reveal 
 ing yet he dared not hope too far. He felt so near 
 to her, so intimate in that revelation that he feared 
 to deceive himself. Oh, he was for her, now! His 
 heart clamored for possession, yet he could not declare 
 
314 THE HEART LINE 
 
 himself. They were upon different spiritual altitudes. 
 Women, before, had come at his whistle. Now he 
 was awkward, timid, excited with expectancy, his 
 heart going- hard. 
 
 "There is a reason why I was glad to see that 
 change, Mr. Granthope," she continued. He waited 
 for her words eagerly. She looked away, her eyes 
 following the sails in mid-channel. "I m thinking of 
 leaving town." 
 
 The announcement fell upon him like a blow. "You 
 are going away!" he exclaimed, his voice betraying 
 him. 
 
 "Not for a week or two, perhaps." 
 
 "A week!" The words stung him. "Don t go 
 yet!" he exclaimed faintly. 
 
 "I don t want to go yet. My aunt in the East 
 has invited me to visit her for six months." She 
 spoke calmly, but did not look at him. 
 
 "I ll have to hurry, won t I ?" he said with a desper 
 ate, whimsical inflection. 
 
 "Yes. You ll have to hurry." 
 
 For a while he was too agitated to speak. If there 
 had needed anything more to convince him of his sta-te 
 of mind, this sufficed. He was aware, by the sense 
 of shock, how much he cared. 
 
 "Before I go, I d like to ask a favor of you, Mr. 
 Granthope." 
 
 It almost comforted him. "What is it of course, 
 I ll do anything." 
 
 "Will you see if you can find out something about 
 that little boy who lived with Madam Grant?" 
 
 There it was again! This blow turned his mind 
 black. She was gazing at him earnestly he could 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 315 
 
 hardly bear her look, so placid, so sincere. "You 
 mean clairvoyantly ?" he stammered. 
 
 "Yes. I think we might do it, together." 
 
 He rose to walk up and down the top of the bank 
 for a few minutes. Once he stopped and gazed at 
 her fiercely, under tensely set brows. Finally he re 
 turned hopelessly. 
 
 "I m sorry, but I can t do that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 He hesitated. "I know I couldn t get anything." 
 
 "But you did before?" 
 
 He longed desperately to confess everything, but 
 he could not speak. He felt her recede from him; 
 their delightful intimacy was broken. She did 
 not insist further, and self-contempt kept him silent, 
 till he broke out, "Oh, it s you who must help me!" 
 
 "I ve done all I can for you. You must find out 
 the rest for yourself." 
 
 "I don t dare to think how much you have to find 
 out about me." 
 
 "Tell me !" 
 
 "I haven t the courage." 
 
 She let her hand fall lightly upon his for an instant. 
 "Well, that only proves, doesn t it, that, so long as 
 there s anything insurmountable in the way of direct 
 ness and simplicity, you haven t gone all the way? 
 I ll wait." 
 
 "I m so afraid of losing your sympathy and your 
 respect." 
 
 "But you can t stop still !" 
 
 "Fm afraid of losing you!" 
 
 He saw the tears come into her eyes. "Ah, there s 
 only one way you can lose me," she said deliberately. 
 
316 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "How?" He was eager. 
 
 She did not answer, but arose slowly. "I think I 
 must be going." 
 
 He followed her, thoroughly dissatisfied with him 
 self at having let his moment pass. He understood 
 her well enough. It was only by stopping still, as she 
 had said, that he could lose her. She had started a 
 change in him, and it must go on. Something which 
 tied his hands, his mind, must be cut; he must be 
 free of that before he could speak. 
 
 They retraced their steps, she talking, as when they 
 had come, inconsequently ; he, moody, troubled in 
 wardly, self-conscious. She was to give him one more 
 hope, however. As she left him, on the avenue, she 
 offered her hand, and smiled. 
 
 "Don t give it up," she said, and turned away, leav 
 ing him standing alone, still fighting his battle with 
 himself. 
 
 He had enough to think of, as he strode home, 
 ill-satisfied with himself and in a turmoil of thought 
 in regard to her. There was no question of mastery, 
 now; she had beaten him at his own game. It was 
 only a question of surrender. 
 
 He went up into his office and stood, looking about. 
 The row of plaster casts confronted him. He took 
 one from the row and examined it. There, too, was 
 a heart line split up with divergent branches, punctu 
 ated with little islands, beginning at the Mount of 
 Saturn, herring-boned to the end, at the double crease 
 which signified two marriages. The fingers were short 
 and fat, the thumb being far too small. Small joints, 
 broad lines, deep cushions at the Mounts of Venus and 
 Mercury, deep bracelets at the wrist Granthope s 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 317 
 
 eyes read the signs as if the hand were a face, or a 
 whole body. 
 
 As he turned the cast over thoughtfully, to look 
 at the back, it dropped from his grasp and fell to the 
 floor, breaking into a dozen pieces. Bits of wire pro 
 jected humorously from the stump. He smiled. 
 
 "Kismet!" he said to himself. "Adieu, Violet!" 
 
 He was stooping to clear away the fragments when 
 he heard a knock upon the door. Going to answer it, 
 he found Professor Vixley waiting. 
 
 "Hello, Frank," said the slate-writer. "Can I see 
 you for a few minutes ?" 
 
 "Come in." Granthope drew up a chair, but stood 
 himself with his hands in his pockets while his visitor 
 made himself comfortable. 
 
 Vixley s shrewd eyes roved about the room and 
 rested upon the broken cast. "Hello," he said, "cat 
 got into the statuary?" 
 
 "Accident," said the palmist. 
 
 "Plenty more where they come from, I s pose. Say, 
 Frank, let s see the Payson girl s hand, will you ?" 
 
 "I haven t it." 
 
 "You mean a cast, of course, eh? I expect you ve 
 pretty near got the original, ain t you?" 
 
 "Not yet." Granthope frowned. 
 
 "But soon" 
 
 Granthope shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "It was about Payson I wanted to see you," the 
 Professor went on. "Seems to me you ain t standin 
 in like you agreed to. Gert claims you got cold feet 
 on the proposition. I thought I d drop in and chew 
 it over." 
 
 Granthope did not answer, and the frown on his 
 
3 i8 THE HEART LINE 
 
 forehead persisted. Vixley took out a cigar and lighted 
 it, threw his match on to the desk, looked about again, 
 and grinned. "Then you have got cold feet, eh?" he 
 remarked, crossing his legs. 
 
 Granthope looked the Professor squarely in the eye 
 for a moment. Then he said deliberately: "Vixley, 
 what will you take to leave town?" 
 
 Vixley showed his astonishment in the stare with 
 which he replied. His lip drew away from his yellow 
 fangs, and a keen light came into his black eyes. 
 "Oho! That s the game, is it? Somethin doin , 
 after all, eh? Well, well!" He mouthed his cigar 
 meditatively and twirled his thumbs in his lap. 
 
 "Come, name your price," said Granthope sharply. 
 
 "I d like a few details first." 
 
 "What s the figure?" 
 
 Vixley was in no hurry, and enjoyed his advantage. 
 "I thought you was up to something, Frank. Gert s 
 pretty sharp, but Lord, she s only a woman. You 
 fooled her a bunch. She reely thought you d got a 
 change of heart. So you want to cut up the money 
 all by your lonely, eh? Well, now, what ll you give 
 to have me pull out of it ?" 
 
 "I ll give you five hundred dollars," said Granthope. 
 
 "Nothin doin ," said Vixley decidedly. "Why, it s 
 worth more than that to me just as it stands, and I 
 ain t but just begun. If you can t do better than that, 
 why, .it s no use talkin ." 
 
 "I asked you what you wanted. Let s have it, and 
 I ll talk business." 
 
 "Payson s pretty well fixed," said Vixley. "I 
 s pose if you marry the girl you ll get a good wad of 
 his money." 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 319 
 
 "Never mind the girl. I want to buy you out." 
 
 "Well, Fd have to think it over. You know we got 
 a great scheme, and if it works it ll mean a steady in 
 come. But I don t mind turnin over money quick. 
 You make it a thousand dollars and I ll agree to leave 
 you alone, and pull off Gert into the bargain. You ll 
 have to fix Masterson yourself. I don t trust him." 
 
 Granthope began to walk the room again, thinking. 
 He returned finally, to say: "It won t do merely for 
 you to agree to keep out of it. I know you too well. 
 This is a business agreement. If I give you a thou 
 sand, will you leave town ? That s my offer." 
 
 Vixley reflected. "That ain t so much. I dunno as 
 I could afford to spoil my whole business for that." 
 
 "Pshaw. You don t make that in a year!" 
 
 "Not last year, perhaps, but I expect to this." 
 
 "Then you refuse?" 
 
 "Wait a minute. Have you got the money on hand ?" 
 
 "No, I haven t." Granthope s face clouded. "But 
 I have an idea I might raise it I could pay you in 
 instalments. But you d have to be outside of Califor 
 nia to get it. That s understood." 
 
 Vixley rose. "Well, when you ve got the money 
 you can begin to talk. If you can raise it, as you 
 say, I may agree. After all, I could use a thou just at 
 present, and I s pose I could operate in Chicago till 
 you let me come back. Say I accept." 
 
 "All right. As soon as I can raise five hundred, 
 I ll see you, and buy your ticket. Until then, I expect 
 you to leave Payson alone." 
 
 "Will you leave him alone? That s the question! 
 I don t propose to have no interference until you make 
 good with the money." 
 
320 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I ll make good, all right," said Granthope. 
 
 "Very well, then." Vixley rose and buttoned what 
 buttons were left on his coat. "When you re ready to 
 do business, I m ready. But you see here !" He 
 shook a long, bony finger at the palmist. "If you go 
 to work and try any gum-games with the old man be 
 fore then, Frank, I ll break you like that there hand." 
 He pointed down to the cast on the floor. Then he 
 added easily: "Not that it would do you any good if 
 you did, though. I ll attend to that. I got to protect 
 myself. It ll be easy enough to fix it so the old man 
 won t take much stock in what you tell him." 
 
 "I expect that s so," Granthope shrugged his shoul 
 ders. "I don t mind saying that if I thought I could 
 do anything that way, I would." 
 
 "So long, then. The sooner you make your bid, 
 the cheaper it ll be." He turned from the door and 
 looked the palmist over. "You re a good one, Frank. 
 I don t deny you got brains. I wouldn t mind knowin 
 just what you was up to. It must be something ele 
 gant." He came up to Granthope and gestured with 
 both hands. "Say why don t you let me in? We 
 could work it together, and I ll lose Gertie. I ain t 
 no fool, myself, when it comes right down to business." 
 
 Granthope laughed sarcastically. "I hardly think 
 you can help much in this. It s a rather delicate prop 
 osition, and I ll have to go it alone. Just as soon as I 
 get the cash I ll let you know." 
 
 For an hour after that Granthope sat in his office 
 thinking it over. His offer to Vixley had come on the 
 spur of the moment, and, although he did not regret 
 it, he was at a loss to know how he could make it good. 
 He went over his accounts carefully, inspected his 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 321 
 
 bank-book, made a valuation of his property. He 
 could see no way, at present, to raise sufficient money 
 to buy Vixley off, and yet to sit still and let him go on 
 with Clytie s father was intolerable. He had seen men 
 ruined by such wiles, and his own conscience was not 
 clean in this matter. There seemed no way of escape. 
 
 Late that afternoon he decided to call on Fancy 
 Gray. He had hardly seen her since the night she 
 left, and he was troubled in her regard, also. He 
 dreaded to know just what she was doing, and how 
 she stood it He had long attempted to deny to him 
 self that she cared too much for him, and always 
 Iheir fiction had been maintained that fiction which, 
 during their pretty idyl at Alma, so long ago, had 
 crystallized itself into their whimsical motto : "No 
 Ifair falling in love!" He had kept their pact well 
 enough. He dared not answer for her. 
 
 Fancy lived in a three-story house on O Farrell 
 Street, near Jones Street, a place back from the side 
 walk, with a garden in front and on one side. Fancy 
 had a room on the attic floor, with two dormer win 
 dows giving upon the front yard. As Granthope 
 turned in the gate and looked up at her windows, he 
 was surprised -to see one of them raised. Fancy s arm 
 appeared, a straw hat in her hand. The next instant 
 the hat sailed gracefully out into the air, curving like 
 an aeroplane. It dropped nearly at his feet. He 
 picked it up, thinking that she would look out after it, 
 but instead, the sash was lowered. 
 
 A minute afterward a young man, bareheaded, and 
 apparently violently enraged, appeared at the front 
 door. Granthope walked up and presented the hat to 
 
322 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Mr. Gay P. Summer, who took it, staring, without a 
 word of thanks, and stalked sulkily away. 
 
 The door being left open, Granthope walked up 
 three flights of stairs and knocked at Fancy s room. 
 There was no reply. He called to her. The door was 
 instantly flung open. 
 
 "Why, hello, Frank! Excuse me. I thought it 
 was my meal-ticket coming back to bore me to death 
 again." Fancy began to laugh. "You ought to have 
 seen him. He simply wouldn t go, after I d given 
 him twenty-three gilt-edged tips, and so I had to 
 throw his hat out of the window to get rid of him." 
 
 "I saw him. I think he won t come back. He 
 looked rather uncomfortable." 
 
 Fancy sat down on the bed unconcernedly, clasping 
 her hands on her crossed knees, while Granthope 
 took a seat upon a trunk. * 
 
 "Say, Frank, these people who expect to annex all 
 your time and pay for it in fifty cent table d hotes are 
 beginning to make me tired. There s nothing so ex 
 pensive as free dinners, I ve found! The minute you 
 let a man buy you a couple of eggs, he thinks he s in 
 a position to dictate to you for the rest of eternity. 
 Why, one dinner means he s hired you till eleven 
 o clock, and I run out of excuses long before that. 
 No, you don t get anything free in this world, and 
 many a girl s found that out !" 
 
 Granthope smiled. Fancy was at her prettiest, with 
 a whimsical animation that he knew of old. Nothing 
 delighted him so much as Fancy in her semi-philo 
 sophic vein. 
 
 She ran on : "Gay has just proposed to me again 
 I ve lost tally, now. The one good thing about him 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 323 
 
 is that he s always ready to make good with the ring 
 whenever I say the word. He takes me seriously just 
 because I never explain. But all the encouragement 
 I ve ever given him is to accept. Gay s the kind that 
 always calls you Little girl, no matter how high you 
 are, and tells you you re brave ! There s no one 
 quite like you, Frank " 
 
 As she spoke, her gaiety slowly oozed away, till she 
 sat almost plaintively watching him. Then she smiled 
 and shook her head slowly. "Don t get frightened, 
 I won t do anything foolish." She sprang up and 
 tossed her head. Then, turning to him, she said : "Say, 
 Frank, do you know Blanchard Cayley ?" 
 
 "Why, I ve just heard of him, that s all. He s a 
 friend of Miss Payson s." 
 
 "She isn t fond of him, is she?" Fancy demanded. 
 
 "Oh, I hope not! Why?" 
 
 "Nothing. Only, I met him, one night, at Car- 
 minetti s. Gay had just thrown me down hard. He 
 came round, afterward, and apologized." Fancy 
 looked across the room abstractedly as she talked. 
 Upon the wall were strung a collection of empty chianti 
 bottles in their basket-work shells, a caricature by 
 Maxim, a circus poster and other evidence of her 
 recent conversion to the artistic life. She spoke with 
 a queer introspective manner. "I had a queer feeling 
 about Mr. Cayley. You know, for all I m such a 
 scatterbrain, I do like a man with a mind. I like to 
 look up to a man. He s awfully well-read. Of 
 course, he isn t as clever as you, but he sort of fas 
 cinates me I don t know why. He interests me, 
 although I can t understand half he says. I suppose 
 he makes me forget. There s nothing like knowing 
 
324 THE HEART LINE 
 
 how to forget. But you re sure Miss Payson isn t too 
 fond of him?" 
 
 "I d like to be surer," said Granthope. He, too, 
 was looking fixedly across the room at the mottoes 
 and texts upon the wall, on the mantel, and over her 
 bed "Do it Now!" "Nothing Succeeds like Suc 
 cess" and such platitudes as, printed in red and 
 black, are sold at bookshops for the moral education of 
 those unable to think for themselves. 
 
 Fancy slid gently off the bed, and dropped to the 
 floor in front of him. Her hand stole fondly for his, 
 and clasped it, petting it. 
 
 "How is she, Frank?" 
 
 He put his hand on her hair and smoothed it af 
 fectionately. "Fine, Fancy, fine." 
 
 "Oh I hope it s all right, Frank." 
 
 "I don t know, Fancy. You d hardly recognize me, 
 these days. I m losing my sense of humor. I m be 
 coming a prig, I think." 
 
 Fancy laughed. "Well, there s plenty of room in 
 that direction. But I don t think she d mind your 
 being a devil occasionally. Women don t have to be 
 saints to be thoroughbreds. And there s many a saint 
 that would like to take a day off, once in a while!" 
 
 "Have you seen Vixley, lately?" 
 
 Fancy grew serious. "No. Is he still working the 
 old man?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so. I saw him to-day. I offered 
 him a thousand dollars to leave town, Fancy." 
 
 Fancy looked up at him with wonder in her eyes. 
 "Why, Frank! What do you mean? A thousand 
 dollars ? Why, you haven t got that much, have you ?" 
 
 "No. Not yet. But I ll get it, somehow." 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 325 
 
 "You mean that you re trying to save Payson 
 on her account, Frank?" 
 
 He avoided her glance. "On her account and per 
 haps my own." 
 
 Fancy rose impulsively and put her arms about him. 
 "Do let me hug you, Frank, just once !" 
 
 He saw her eyes grow soft. She released herself 
 quickly, as if the embrace, simple as it was, hurt her. 
 She stood in front of him and watched him soberly. 
 
 "Frank, 7 never could make you " She stopped, 
 the tears welling in her eyes. Then she turned and 
 ran out of the room. 
 
 He rose, too, and paced up and down, wondering at 
 her mood. His track was short, for the roof sloped on 
 one side, and the place was encumbered with Fancy s 
 paraphernalia and furniture. His eyes fell, after a 
 while, upon a cigar box on her bureau. It stood 
 upright, under the mirror, and had little doors, glued 
 on with paper hinges, so that the two opened, like the 
 front of a Japanese shrine of Buddha. He went to 
 it and looked at it. Thoughtlessly, with no idea of 
 committing an indiscretion, little suspecting that it 
 could hold anything private or sacred, he swung the 
 little doors open. Then he shut them hastily and 
 walked to the window with a clutch at his heart. In 
 side he had seen his own photograph. Before it was 
 a little glass jar with a few violets. They were fresh, 
 fragrant. Lettered upon a strip of paper pasted on 
 the inside was the inscription: 
 
 No Fair Falling In Love. 
 
 He walked away hurriedly to stare hard out of 
 the window. 
 
326 THE HEART LINE 
 
 She came into the room again as he composed him 
 self, and her face, newly washed, was radiant. She 
 reseated herself upon the bed, and, taking up a pair of 
 stockings, proceeded to darn a small hole in the heel. 
 
 "Have you got a position, Fancy?" 
 
 She laughed. "Vixley wrote me a note and told 
 me he had a job for me if I wanted it, but I turned 
 him down. You couldn t guess what I am doing, 
 Frank." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Detective." She looked up innocently. 
 
 "You don t mean " 
 
 "No! Just little jobs for the chief of police, that s 
 all. I m investigating doctors who practise without 
 a license, that s all. I say, Masterson had better look 
 out or he ll get pulled." 
 
 "I m sorry you haven t anything better, Fancy. 
 Miss Payson said she d get you a place in her father s 
 office if you d go. Would you?" 
 
 "No." Fancy s eyes were upon her needle. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Frank," she said, "do you remember asking me 
 to inquire about that soldier the little girl with freckles 
 wanted to find ?" 
 
 "Yes. I thought you said that the ticket agent at 
 the ferry had left, and so you couldn t get anything." 
 
 "He was only off on a vacation. He s come back, 
 and I saw him yesterday. He remembered that soldier 
 perfectly I don t see how anybody could fail to 
 he must look awful. He said he bought a ticket for 
 Santa Barbara." 
 
 "That s good. I hope she ll come in again," said 
 Granthope. "She was a nice little thing." 
 
A LOOK INTO THE MIRROR 327 
 
 "She was real, Frank, and that s what few people 
 are, nowadays." 
 
 He looked at her for a minute. "There s no doubt 
 that you are, Fancy." 
 
 "1 wish I were. I m only a drifter, Frank." She 
 kept on with her darning, not looking up. 
 
 "Fancy, I want to do something for you. Won t 
 you let me help you?" 
 
 "I m all right, Frank. I told you I wanted to have 
 some fun before I settled down again. But if I ever 
 do need anything, I ll let you know." 
 
 "Promise me that that whenever you want me, 
 you ll send for me, or come to me, Fancy !" 
 
 She looked up into his eyes frankly. "I promise, 
 Frank. When I need you, I ll come." 
 
 She was a blither spirit after that, till he took his 
 leave. It had been an eventful day for Francis Grant- 
 hope. He had swung round almost the whole circle of 
 emotions. But not quite. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 
 
 At five o clock the next afternoon Blanchard Cayley 
 was .sitting at a window of his club, opening the letters 
 which he had just taken from his box in the office. 
 He had his hat on, a trait which always aroused the 
 ire of the older members. Beside him, upon a small 
 table, was a glass of "orange squeeze," which he 
 sipped at intervals. 
 
 At this hour there were some twenty members in the 
 large room reading, talking or playing dominoes. 
 Others came in and went out occasionally, and of these 
 more than half approached Cayley to say effusively: 
 "Hello, old man, how goes it?" or some such simi 
 larly luminous remark. This was as offensive to Cay 
 ley as the wearing of his hat in the club was to the old 
 men. Nothing annoyed him so much as to be inter 
 rupted while reading his letters. Yet he always 
 looked up with a smile, and replied: 
 
 "Oh, so-so what s the news?" 
 
 To be sure, Cayley s mail to-day was not so im 
 portant that these hindrances much mattered. The 
 study of Esperanto was his latest fad. With several 
 Misses, Frauleins and Mademoiselles on the official list 
 of the "Esperantistoj," and whom he suspected of 
 being young and beautiful, he had begun a systematic 
 correspondence. The greater part of the answers he 
 received were dull and innocuous, written on pic 
 ture post-cards. From Odessa, from Siberia, Rio de 
 
 328 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 329 
 
 Janeiro, Cambodia, Moldavia and New Zealand such 
 missives came. Those which were merely perfunctory, 
 or showed but a desire to obtain a San Francisco 
 post-card for a growing collection, he threw into the 
 waste-basket. Others, whose originality promised a 
 flirtation more affording, he answered ingeniously. 
 
 A man suddenly slapped him on the shoulder. 
 
 "Hello, Blanchard, have a game of dominoes ?" 
 
 "No, thanks/ 
 
 "Come and have a drink, then." 
 
 "No, thanks, I m on the wagon now." 
 
 "Go to the devil." 
 
 "Same to you." 
 
 The man grinned and dropped into a big chair op 
 posite Cayley and lighted a cigar. Then his glance 
 wandered out of the window. Cayley put the bunch of 
 letters in his pocket and yawned. 
 
 "By Jove, there s a peach over there," said the man. 
 Cayley turned and looked. 
 
 "In front of the shoe store. See ?" 
 
 She was standing, looking idly into the show win 
 dow a figure in gray and red. Scarlet cuffs, scarlet 
 collar, scarlet silk gloves. Her form was trim and 
 her carriage jaunty. 
 
 It was Fancy Gray drifting. She stood, hesi 
 tating, and shot a glance up to the second story of 
 the club house where the men sat. She caught Cay- 
 ley s eye and smiled, showing her white teeth. Her 
 eyebrows went up. Then she turned down the street 
 and walked slowly away. 
 
 "Say," said the man, "was that for you or for me, 
 Blan?" 
 
 "I expect it must have been for me. Good day." 
 
330 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Something doing? Well, good luck!" 
 Cayley walked briskly out of the room, got his hat, 
 and ran down the front steps. Fancy was already 
 half a block ahead of him, nearing Kearney Street. 
 He caught up with her before she turned the cor 
 ner. 
 
 "I ve been looking for you for three weeks," he 
 began. 
 
 She paused and gave him a saucy smile. "You 
 ought to be treated for it," was her somewhat ellipti 
 cal reply. 
 
 "I m afraid I am pretty slow, but I ve got you now. 
 It seems to me you re looking pretty nimble." 
 
 "Really? I hope I ll do." 
 
 "Fancy Gray, you ll indubitably do. Won t you 
 come to dinner with me somewhere, where we can 
 talk?" 
 
 "I accept," said Fancy Gray. 
 
 "Are you still with Granthope?" 
 
 She hesitated for a second before replying. "No, 
 I left last week." 
 
 "What s the row?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing, I got tired of it." 
 
 "That s not true," he said, looking into her eyes, 
 which had dimmed. 
 
 "Cut it out then, I don t care to talk about it." 
 
 "I bet he didn t treat you square. He s too much 
 of a bounder." 
 
 At this her face flamed and she stopped suddenly on 
 the sidewalk, drawing herself away from him. 
 "Don t," she pleaded, "don t, please, or I can t go 
 with you " 
 
 He saw now what was in her eyes and put his hand 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 331 
 
 into her arm again. "Come along, little girl, I won t 
 worry you," he said gently. And they walked on. 
 
 She recovered her spirits in a few moments, but the 
 sparkling of her talk was like the waves on the sur 
 face of an invisible current sweeping her toward him. 
 It was too evident for him, used as he was to women, 
 not to notice it. She was a little embarrassed, and such 
 self-consciousness sat strangely on her face. Behind 
 that flashing smile and the quick glances of her eye 
 something slumbered, an emotion alien to such deb 
 onair moods as was her wont to express, and as foreign 
 to the deeper secret feelings she concealed. Her 
 eyes had darkened to a deeper brown, the iris almost 
 as dark as the pupils. Cayley did, as she had said, 
 fascinate her. Whether the charm was most physical 
 or mental it would be hard to say, but her demeanor 
 showed that it partook of both elements. She gave 
 herself up to it. 
 
 He began to play upon her. He took her arm affec 
 tionately, and the tips of his fingers rested upon the 
 little, cool circle of her wrist above her gloves. She 
 did not remove his hand. His eyes sought hers again 
 and again, vanquishing them with his meaning glances. 
 Her pulse beat faster. She talked excitedly. A soft 
 wave of color swept up from her neck. 
 
 Suppose we dine at the Poodle Dog ?" he sug 
 gested. 
 
 "I m game," she replied ; "I like a quiet place where 
 there s no music." 
 
 "We can get a room up-stairs where we won t be 
 interrupted." 
 
 "Anywhere for mine. I ve got a blue bean and I d 
 like to be cheered up." 
 
332 THE HEART LINE 
 
 She was cheered up to an unwonted pitch by the 
 time the dinner was over. As she sat, flushed, mettle 
 some with wine, thrilling to his advances, he plied her 
 artfully, and she responded with less and less dis 
 cretion. She could not conceal her impulse towards 
 him. 
 
 "Do you think I m pretty?" she asked, her eyes 
 burning. 
 
 "Indeed you are you re beautiful!" he said, his 
 hand resting on hers. 
 
 "But I don t want to be beautiful that s what you 
 are when you re queer and woozly like the girls 
 Maxim paints," she pouted. "They re awful frights 
 they re never pretty. I want to be just pretty, not 
 handsome or good-looking or anything apologetic 
 like that that s what men call a girl when she can t 
 make good with her profile. You ve got to tell me I m 
 pretty, Blan, or I won t be satisfied." 
 
 "You certainly are pretty," he laughed, as he filled 
 her glass. 
 
 "That makes me almost happy again," she mused. 
 "Let s forget everything and everybody else in the 
 world. It s funny how I ve been thinking about you 
 and wondering if I d ever see you again. I had a good 
 mind to put a personal in the Chronicle. It seemed 
 to me as if I simply had to see you, all this week. 
 Wasn t it funny at Carminetti s ? I guess I was 
 struck by lightning that time. You certainly did 
 wireless me. It s fierce to own up to it, Blan, but I 
 like you. I ve stood men off ever since I was old 
 enough to know what they wanted, but you ve got me 
 hypnotized. How did you do it?" She laughed 
 restlessly. 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 333 
 
 "Why, if I hadn t thought you were a little too thick 
 with Granthope, I would have looked you up before." 
 
 "I haven t been there for a week. The wide, wide 
 world for mine, now." 
 
 "That s pretty tough, to fire you after you d been 
 with him for two years, isn t it?" 
 
 "I don t want to talk about that, really, Blan; it s 
 all right." 
 
 He poured out another glass of champagne for her 
 and she drank it excitedly. Cayley still caressed her 
 free hand, but his eyes were not upon her; he was 
 thinking intently. She took his head in her two hands 
 and turned it gently in her direction. 
 
 "There ! That s where you want to look. Here is 
 Fancy, Blan, right here." 
 
 "I see you. I was only thinking do you know, you 
 look like the pictures of Cleopatra?" he suggested. 
 "Did you ever hear of Cleopatra, Fancy?" 
 
 She laughed. "I guess I ought to I played Cleo 
 patra once." 
 
 "Did you really where? comic opera or vaude 
 ville?" 
 
 "Oh, never mind where I made a hit all right." 
 She leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands behind 
 her head, smiling to herself. A tress of hair had 
 fallen across her ear ; it did not mar her beauty. 
 
 "I ll bet you got every hand in the house, too." 
 
 Fancy became suddenly convulsed with giggles. She 
 sipped her glass and choked as she tried to swallow 
 the wine. 
 
 Cayley passed this mysterious mirth without com 
 ment. "Granthope looks as if he had been an actor, 
 
334 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, yes, we played together but only as ama 
 teurs." She smiled mischievously. 
 
 Cayley followed her up. "He has a fine presence ; I 
 should think he d be good at it. He has lots of women 
 running after him, hasn t he?" 
 
 "Oh, he did have women to throw at the birds 
 women to warm up for supper women to burn, and 
 he burned em, too. But he won t stand for them 
 now," said Fancy. 
 
 "What s the matter? Is he stung?" He filled her 
 glass again. 
 
 "Yep. He s cut em all out even me. That s why 
 I m here." 
 
 "But he works them, though?" 
 
 "Oh, no, Blan, Frank s straight, sure he is. He 
 doesn t graft any more. He hasn t for some time." 
 
 "I don t believe that," said Cayley. 
 
 "Oh, of course, he investigates cases sometimes, but 
 he don t work with cappers the way he did. He s 
 going in for high society now, and he doesn t need to 
 do anything but wear a swallow-tail and get up on 
 his hind legs and drink tea." 
 
 Blanchard took a chance shot. "I hear he s trying 
 to marry a rich girl." 
 
 Fancy, for the first time, seemed to come to herself. 
 She looked hard at Cayley. "What are you driving 
 at, Blan? What do you want to talk about that for? 
 It s all off between me and Frank, but I m not going 
 to knock him. He s all right, Frank is. I d rather 
 talk about Me, please ! Talk about Fancy, Blan, won t 
 you? Fancy s so tired of talking shop." 
 
 Her elbow was upon the table and her little round 
 chin in her palm, as she looked at him under drooping, 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 335 
 
 languorous lids. "How pretty am I, Blan ? Tell me ! 
 There s nothing quite so satisfactory, after a good 
 dinner, as to hear how pretty you are." 
 
 He looked quizzically at her, and quoted : " Tout 
 repas est exquis qui a un baiser pour dessert " 
 
 "What does that mean, Blan? I don t understand 
 Dago talk." 
 
 "It means that you Ye pretty enough to eat, and 
 I m going to eat you," he replied, making a motion 
 toward her. 
 
 She put him off gaily, but only as if to delay the 
 situation. "Oh, pshaw! haven t you had enough to 
 eat yet? That won t go with me, Blan; I ve got to 
 have real eighteen carat flattery put on with a knife. 
 I can stand any amount of it. I love it ! Whether you 
 mean it or not I don t care, so long as it sounds 
 nice, I ll believe it. I ll believe anything to-night. 
 Now, how do you like my eyes, Blan ?" 
 
 He took a long, close look at them, then with an 
 amused smile he said : "Mountain lakes at sunset shot 
 with refracted fires. Or, electric light on champagne 
 will that do?" 
 
 Fancy pouted. "I knew a fellow once who told me 
 they were just like the color of stones in the bed of the 
 brook . . . When I was up at Piedra Pinta, I looked 
 in a shallow part of the creek where I could see my 
 reflection and the bottom at the same time . . ." 
 Her voice died off in a dreamy monotone ; then she 
 looked up at him again sleepily. 
 
 "How about my nose?" 
 
 "Thy nose is as the tozuer of Lebanon which looketh 
 toward Damascus" he quoted. 
 
 "Whatever does that mean?" She opened her eyes 
 
336 THE HEART LINE 
 
 as wide as she could. "Is my poor old nose as big as 
 that?" She felt of it solemnly. 
 
 "It is straight and strong and full of character. 
 And Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, . . . thy 
 teeth are like a Hock of sheep . . . which come up 
 from the washing; whereof every one bear twins." 
 
 "That s very swell, indeed," said Fancy, "is it orig 
 inal?" 
 
 He laughed. "No. It s from one of the oldest 
 poems in the world." 
 
 "I d like to read that book." Fancy was getting 
 drowsy. "Tell me some more." 
 
 "Thine head upon thee is like Carmel . . ." 
 
 "I m glad we re getting into California at last." 
 
 "And the hair of thine head like purple; " 
 
 She shook her head, "Oh, no, don t call it purple, 
 please. Frank says it s Romanesque." 
 
 "Thy neck is as a tower of ivory/ 
 
 "That s the second tower," said Fancy, closing her 
 eyes, "I guess that ll be about all for the towers. I 
 think I d rather have you make it up as you go along. 
 It s more complimentary." She laid her head upon 
 her arms on the table. "My ears are really something 
 fierce, aren t they?" 
 
 Cayley touched them in investigation. "They re a 
 bit too small, of course, and they re very pink, but 
 they re like rosy sea-shells touched by the dawn." 
 
 Fancy murmured softly: " She sells sea-shells. She 
 shells sea-shells She shells she shells say, I m get 
 ting wooziy." 
 
 She roused herself to laugh softly ; her head drooped 
 again. 
 
 "Then I ll let you kiss them once !" she whispered. 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 337 
 
 "I m afraid I talked too much last night," she said 
 to him the next evening. "I hope I didn t say any 
 thing, did I? I didn t quite know what I was doing. 
 Funny how the red stuff throws you down!" 
 
 "Oh, no, you didn t give anything away. You re 
 pretty safe, for a woman." 
 
 "Coffee s what makes me talk," she said, "if you 
 ever want to make me loosen up, try about four small 
 blacks and I ll use up the dictionary." 
 
 He saw her nearly every day after that, but, even 
 with the aid of coffee, he was unsuccessful in his 
 attempts to make her more communicative. At the 
 mention of Granthope s name she froze into silence 
 or changed the subject. 
 
 A few days after the dinner he invited her across 
 the bay to Tiburon where Sully Maxwell had given 
 him the use of one of the dozen or more house-boats 
 anchored in the little harbor. Fancy was delighted at 
 the prospect of a day with him, and early on Sunday 
 morning she was ready at the ferry. As she waited 
 with her basket of provisions, saucily and picturesquely 
 dressed in a cheap outing costume of linen, Dougal 
 and Elsie came up to her. 
 
 "Hello, Queen," Dougal cried, and he shook both 
 her hands heartily, his round gargoyle face illuminated 
 with cordiality. "Where have you been all this time? 
 We ll have to try you for desertion. You haven t ab 
 dicated, have you? We ve been wanting to find you 
 and have you go up to Piedra Pinta with us. The 
 bunch is all up there now ; Elsie and I were only just 
 able to get off. Can t you come along with us ?" 
 
 "Oh, do!" Elsie pleaded, putting her arm about 
 Fancy s slender waist. 
 
338 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "No, I m sorry, but I can t, really ; I m going to Ti- 
 buron with Blanchard Cayley." 
 
 Dougal s face clouded. "Say, what do you want to 
 run with that lobster for? You re altogether too 
 good for him." 
 
 "I guess I m in love with him," said Fancy, still 
 holding Doug-al s hand and looking up into his face 
 with a quaint expression. 
 
 "You aren t!" they chorused. 
 
 "Oh, I am, I am; I m sure I am!" she repeated 
 insistently. "I ve liked him ever since the first time 
 I saw him. What s the use of pretending? Don t say 
 anything against him, please. I m so happy I m 
 perfectly happy, Dougal." The tears came to her 
 eyes. 
 
 "I know what ll happen," Dougal said, his pale eye 
 brows drawn together. "He ll play with you for a 
 while, and then he ll throw you down hard as soon as 
 he s through with you, or another girl comes along." 
 
 "Then I hope she won t show up for a good while," 
 said Fancy cavalierly. 
 
 "And when it s over?" said Elsie. 
 
 Fancy dropped her eyes. "When it s over I don t 
 know." She looked up. "When it s over I suppose 
 I ll sell apples on Market Street. What else will there 
 be for me to do?" 
 
 "Oh, don t; you frighten me," Elsie cried; "we re 
 all so fond of you, Fancy. Remember, we re your 
 friends, and we d do anything to help you." 
 
 Fancy stooped down and kissed her. "Don t worry, 
 Elsie, I m pretty lively yet. Only you know I don t 
 do things by halves. I suppose I take it rafther se 
 riously." 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 339 
 
 Elsie stared at her. "You re so different." 
 
 "Oh, Fancy ll get over this. She got over Grant- 
 hope all right, and she got over Gay Summer." 
 
 The tears surged into Fancy s eyes again. "Don t 
 say that, Dougal. I m no quitter. I don t get over 
 things. I may bury them and cake-walk over their 
 graves, but I don t forget my friends." 
 
 He grinned jovially and wrung her hand till she 
 winced, then he slapped her on the back. "Well, you 
 know where we are when you want us. We re with 
 you for keeps; you can t lose us, Fancy, remember 
 that." 
 
 Fancy squeezed his big hairy hand. 
 
 Elsie added, "But you ll be awfully talked about. 
 Fancy, do be careful." 
 
 "Will I?" said Fancy. "I don t care. If I like Blan 
 and he likes me, I don t care who knows it." 
 
 "Are you going to marry him?" Elsie ventured. 
 
 "He hasn t said anything about it yet but I m 
 not thinking of that All I want is for somebody 
 to love me. I ll be satisfied with that." 
 
 "You re all right, Fancy; only I hope you re not in 
 for a broken heart," said Dougal. 
 
 "Just imagine Fancy with a broken heart!" Elsie 
 laughed. 
 
 "Oh, you don t believe me, but you will sometime." 
 
 Fancy s eyes were not for them all this while. She 
 was watching the passengers approaching the ferry, 
 her glance darting from one to the other, scanning the 
 cable-cars which drew up at the terminus, questing up 
 toward Market Street, and along the sidewalks and 
 crossings. 
 
 "Have you left Granthope?" Dougal inquired. 
 
340 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Yep." Fancy, as usual, did not explain. 
 
 "Why didn t you let us know where you were, 
 then?" he complained. "I was up to the place the 
 other day looking for you, and no one seemed to know 
 where you were." 
 
 Fancy, still watching for Cayley, did not answer. 
 
 "Have you got any money, Fancy?" 
 
 "Sure!" she answered eagerly. "I have two dol 
 lars here do you want it?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" he laughed. "I was going to offer you 
 some. If you re out of a job you must need it. I can 
 let you have twenty or so easy." He put his hand into 
 his pocket. 
 
 She hesitated for a moment, then she said: 
 
 "I don t know but I could use it, Dougal, if you can 
 spare it as well as not." 
 
 "I m flush this week." He handed her a gold double 
 eagle. 
 
 "Granthope will lend me all I want, or I could get 
 it from Blanchard, but somehow I hate to take it from 
 them. Of course, it s all right, and they have plenty, 
 but I d feel better borrowing of you, you know." 
 
 "That s the best thing you ve said yet," he said, 
 beaming on her. 
 
 "Oh, Dougal, tell her about the seance," said Elsie, 
 as Fancy put the money in her purse. 
 
 "Oh, yes ! I wanted to see you about a materializing 
 seance, Fancy. Do you know of a good one? We 
 want to go some night and see the spooks. The bunch 
 is going to have some fun with them." 
 
 "You want to look out for yourself, then. They 
 always have two or three bouncers, and they ll throw 
 you out if there s any row, you know." 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 341 
 
 Dougal grinned happily. "That s just what we 
 want. I haven t had a good scrap for months. Maxim 
 can handle three or four of them alone, while Benton, 
 Starr and I raise a rough house. We re going to go 
 early and get front seats." 
 
 It was Fancy s turn to laugh. "You can t do it, 
 Dougal. You don t know the first rules of the game. 
 They always have their own crowd on the first two 
 rows, and they won t let you get near the spirits. They 
 only want believers, anyway. If you aren t careful, 
 they won t let you in at all ; they ll say all the seats are 
 taken. You d better go separately and sit in different 
 parts of the room, and spot the bouncers if you can." 
 
 "Oh, we ll handle them all right. Where s a good 
 one?" 
 
 Fancy reflected a minute. "I think, perhaps, Flora 
 Flint is the best. She s a clever actress, and she always 
 has a crowd. It s fifty cents. Her place is on Van 
 Ness Avenue I think her seances are on Wednesday 
 evenings you ll find the notice in the papers. But 
 they re pretty smooth ; they ve had people try to break 
 up the show before. If you try to turn on the light or 
 grab any ghost, look out you don t get beaten up." 
 
 "Oh, you can trust us; we ve got a new game," he 
 answered. 
 
 Then, as the Sausalito boat was about to leave, they 
 bade Fancy a hurried farewell and ran for the en 
 trance to the slip. A few minutes after this Blanch- 
 ard Cayley appeared, put his arm through hers, and 
 they went on board the ferry. 
 
 The harbor of Tiburon, in the northern part of San 
 Francisco Bay, is sheltered on the west by the promon- 
 
342 THE HEART LINE 
 
 tory of Belvedere, where pretty cottages climb the 
 wooded slopes, and on the south by Angel Island, with 
 its army barracks, hospital and prison. Here was hud 
 dled a little fleet of house-boats or "arks," the farthest 
 outshore of which belonged to Sully Maxwell. 
 
 It was a queer collection of architectural amphibia, 
 these nautical houses floating in the bay. They were 
 of all sizes, some seemingly too small to stretch one s 
 legs in without kicking down a wall, others more am 
 bitious in size, with double decks and roof-gardens. 
 There were all grades and quality as well ; some even 
 had electric lights and telephone wires laid to the shore. 
 Here, free from rent, taxes or insurance, the little 
 summer colony dwelt, and the rowboats of butcher, ba 
 ker and grocer plied from one to another. It was late 
 in the season now, however, and only a few were oc 
 cupied. A little later, when the rains had set in, they 
 would all be towed into their winter quarters to hiber 
 nate till spring. 
 
 Cayley conducted Fancy Gray down to the end of 
 a wharf where the skiff was moored, in the care of a 
 boatman, and after loading the provisions and supplies 
 he had purchased at the little French restaurant by the 
 station, he rowed her out to the Edyth. 
 
 The bay was cloudless and without fog. The Sep 
 tember sun poured over the water and sparkled from 
 every tiny wave-top, the breeze was a gentle, easterly 
 zephyr. Cayley seemed younger in the open air, and 
 all that was best in him came to the surface. He was 
 almost enthusiastic. Fancy was in high feather. As 
 she sat in the stern of the skiff and trailed her hand 
 in the salt water, he watched her with almost as much 
 pride as had Gay P. Summer. 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 343 
 
 She climbed rapturously aboard, unlocked the front 
 room and filled it with her gleeful exclamations of de 
 light. Then she popped into the tiny kitchen and 
 gazed curiously at the neat, shining collection of cook 
 ing-utensils and the gasoline stove. She danced out 
 again, to circle round the narrow railed deck. Finally 
 she pulled a steamer chair to the front porch and 
 flopped into it. 
 
 "I m never going to leave this place," she cried. "It s 
 just like having a deserted island all to yourself. I 
 feel like a new-laid bride. Let s hoist a white flag." 
 
 Cayley, meanwhile, put the provisions on the kitchen 
 table and came out to be deliciously idle with her 
 but she could not rest. She was up and about like a 
 bee, humming a gay tune. She went into the square, 
 white sitting-room to inspect everything that was there, 
 commenting on each object. She sat in every chair and 
 upon the table as well. She tried a little wheezy melo- 
 deon with a snatch of rag-time. She criticized every 
 picture, she cleaned the mirror with her handkerchief, 
 then went out to wash it in salt water and hang it on a 
 line to dry. She read aloud the titles of all the 
 books, she opened and shut drawers, and peeped into a 
 little state-room with bunks and was lost there for five 
 minutes. When she came out again, her copper hair 
 was braided down her back and she had on a white 
 ruffled apron. 
 
 ^ m going to cook dinner," she announced. 
 
 Cayley smiled at her enthusiasm. "I don t believe 
 you can do it." 
 
 She insisted, and he followed her into the kitchen to 
 watch her struggles. She succeeded in setting the 
 table without breaking more than one plate, and then 
 
344 THE HEART LINE 
 
 she filled the tea-kettle with fresh water from the demi 
 john. After that she looked helplessly at Cayley. 
 
 "How do you shell these tins?" 
 
 "With a can-opener." 
 
 She tried for a few moments, biting her lip and 
 pinching her finger in the attempt Then she turned 
 to him coaxingly. 
 
 "You do it, Blan, please." 
 
 He had it open in a minute. She unwrapped the 
 steak, put it into a frying-pan, unbuttered, and began 
 to struggle with the stove. After she had lighted a 
 match timidly, she said : 
 
 "I m awfully afraid it ll explode." 
 
 He took her in his arms and lifted her to the table, 
 where she sat swinging her legs, her hands in her 
 apron pockets. 
 
 "Confess you don t know a blessed thing about 
 housework or cooking!" 
 
 "Of course I don t. What do you take me for ? I ve 
 lived in restaurants and boarding-houses all my life 
 how should I know ? But I thought it was easier than 
 it seems to be. I suppose you have to have a knack 
 for it." 
 
 "I ll show you." He took the apron from her, 
 tying it about his own waist. With the grace of a 
 chef he set about the preparations for dinner. He 
 lighted the stove, he put potatoes in the oven to roast, 
 he heated a tin of soup, washed the lettuce, broiled the 
 steak, cut the cranberry pie and made a pot full of cof 
 fee. 
 
 They sat down at the table with gusto and made 
 short work of the refreshments. Fancy was a little 
 disappointed that they couldn t drop a line over the 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 345 
 
 side of the boat and fry fish while they were fresh and 
 wriggling, but she ate her share, nevertheless. She 
 drank cup after cup of coffee and took a cigarette or 
 two, sitting in blissful content, listening to the cluck* 
 cluck of water plashing lazily against the sides of the 
 boat. While they were there still lingering at the table, 
 the ferry-boat passed them. The ark careened on the 
 swell of the wake, rising and falling, till the water 
 was spilled from the glasses, and the dishes lurched 
 this way and that. Fancy screamed with delight at the 
 motion. For some minutes the hanging lamp above 
 their heads swung slowly to and fro. 
 
 All that sunny, breezy afternoon she sat happily, 
 chattering on the front platform, watching the yachts 
 that passed out into the lower bay, the heavily laden 
 ferry-boat that rocked them deliciously in its heaving 
 wake, and the rowboats full of Sunday excursion 
 ists, who hailed them with slangy banter. She watched 
 the little red-tiled cottages at Belvedere. She watched 
 the holiday couples walk the Tiburon beach, past the 
 wreck of the Tropic Bird, now transformed into a 
 summer home. She watched the mauve shadow 
 deepen over Mount Tamalpais and the gray city of San 
 Francisco looming to the south in a pearly haze. She 
 was drenched by the salt air and burned by the sun 
 shine; a permanent glow came to her cheeks, her 
 brown eyes grew wistful. She talked incessantly. 
 
 Cayley amused her all day with his jests and stories. 
 That he was too subtle for her did not matter. She 
 listened as attentively to his explanations of the set 
 forms of Japanese verse as she did to his mechanical 
 love-making. Cayley was not of the impetuous, hot- 
 blooded type he preferred the snare to the arrow his 
 
346 THE HEART LINE 
 
 was the wile of the serpent that charms the bird and 
 makes it approach, falteringly, step by step, to fall into 
 his power; but his system, if mathematically accurate, 
 was also artistic. Fancy s devotion to him was un 
 disguised he did not need his art. It was she who 
 was spontaneous, frank and affectionate. He only 
 added a few flourishes. 
 
 "Do you love me, Blan ?" she asked, warming to him 
 as the sun went down. 
 
 "Why, of course I do; haven t I been apoclictically 
 adoring you?" 
 
 She looked at him, bewildered. "I thought there 
 was something queer about it; perhaps that s it. But 
 you havent called me dear once." 
 
 "But I ve called you Nepenthe and ChloeV He 
 looked down at her patronizingly. 
 
 " Darling is good enough for me I guess I like 
 the old-fashioned words best, dear," she whispered 
 shyly. 
 
 He quoted: 
 
 "Some to the fascination of a name 
 Surrender judgment hoodwinked," 
 
 and laughed to himself at the appositeness of Cow- 
 per s lines. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you know some lovely poetry, Blan, but 
 I m afraid I m not poetical. I like the things they say 
 in songs, things I can understand. I d rather hear 
 slang" 
 
 " The illegitimate sister of poetry " 
 
 She looked up at him blankly. Then she sighed and 
 turned her eyes off to the darkling water. 
 
 "No one ever made love to suit me, somehow men 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 347 
 
 are queer they re so blind they seem to know so lit 
 tle about the things that mean a lot to a woman." She 
 shivered. "It s getting chilly, isn t it. I m cold." 
 
 "Shall I get you a wrap?" 
 
 She took his arm and placed it about her shoulder, 
 "That ll do," she said. 
 
 "Fancy, you are adorable you re absolutely com 
 plete. You re unique you re a nonpareille !" 
 
 "I d rather be a peach," she confessed, snuggling 
 closer. 
 
 "You are, Fancy a clingstone ! I d like to kiss you 
 to death." 
 
 "Now, that s the stuff!" 
 
 "I m sorry you don t appreciate my compliments," 
 he remarked, after this little episode. 
 
 "I m afraid I don t. I m sorry I m not intellectual, 
 Blan, but I d rather have you call me a damn fool 
 if you said it lovingly, than have you say pretty things 
 I can t understand." 
 
 "All right, then, you re a damn fool!" 
 
 She laughed happily. "Thank you, Blan, dear, that 
 was nice! I believe you re improving." 
 
 "Oh, if you prefer Anglo-Saxon, I ll call you a piece, 
 a jade, baggage, harridan, hussy, minx 
 
 "Yes, but you must put dear at the end, you know, 
 to show that you re not in earnest." 
 
 "I ll try to remember." 
 
 Fancy went on : 
 
 "It s wonderful to be out here, all alone with you on 
 the water, cut off from everything. It satisfies me 
 gorgeously it s like the taste of ice-cream to a hungry 
 little kid. I remember how I used to long for it. I 
 was awfully poor and lonely once. I believe I m happy 
 
34 8 THE HEART LINE 
 
 now. What do you think it is, Blan, you or the cof 
 fee? Don t you want to hold my hand? Let s just 
 sit here and forget things but I haven t very much 
 to forget, have I? I d like to read books and know 
 some of the things you do but it s too late now I 
 guess I ll always be ign ant" 
 
 "Oh, I ll teach you all the things you want to know," 
 he said condescendingly. "You re good material and 
 you d learn quickly. I could make a wonder out of you 
 with a little training. I ll give you lessons if you 
 like." 
 
 "I accept," said Fancy Gray. 
 
 Then she added : 
 
 "I don t expect you ll love me very long, Blan, but 
 you must make up for it by loving me as much as you 
 can. That s where I can teach you. Men aren t faith 
 ful like women are I m glad I m a woman, Blan." 
 
 "I m glad you are," he echoed. 
 
 The night fell, and they began reluctantly to make 
 preparations for their departure. While Cayley was 
 busy in the kitchen, packing up a basket to be re 
 turned, Fancy went into the little white state-room to 
 do her hair and put on her wrap. 
 
 As she came out she noticed a little card-tray in 
 the corner of the living-room, and idly turned the 
 names over, one by one. Of a sudden her hand fell, 
 and her eyes were fixed intently upon a card that had 
 just come into sight. It bore the legend : 
 
 MR. FRANCIS GRANTHOPE 
 
 She threw herself upon the couch by the window and 
 broke into sobs. 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 349 
 
 "Say, Fancy! It s after seven o clock," Cayley 
 called to her from the kitchen. 
 
 She stumbled to her feet and went out on deck, 
 dipped her handkerchief in the salt water and bathed 
 her eyes. Cayley came out just as she finished. It 
 was too dark, now, to notice her expression. 
 
 They took the rowboat which had been nuzzling 
 alongside the flank of the ark all day, made for the 
 shore and went aboard the steamer. 
 
 It was crowded with Sunday picnickers, who came 
 trooping on in groups, singing, the girls flushed and 
 sunburned with hair distraught and dusty shoes; the 
 men in jovial, uncouth -lisarray in canvas and in cor 
 duroy, like tramps and vagabonds, laden with ferns 
 and flowers. Hunters, with guns and dogs, tramped 
 aboard; fishermen, with rods and baskets; tired fam 
 ilies, lagging, whining, came in weary procession. 
 Both decks of the boat were crowded. A brass band 
 struck up a popular air. The restaurant, the bar and 
 the bootblack stand all did a great business. 
 
 Cayley and Fancy Gray went to the upper deck for a 
 last draft of the summer breeze. As they sat there, 
 talking little, watching the throng of uneasy passen 
 gers, Fancy called his attention to a couple sitting op 
 posite. 
 
 It was a strangely assorted pair, the girl and the 
 man. She was about twenty years of age, with a 
 pretty, earnest, freckled face and a modest air. She 
 was talking happily, with undisguised fondness, to the 
 young man beside her. His face was hideous, without 
 a nose. In its place was a livid scar and a depression 
 perforated by nostrils that made his appearance 
 malign. He wore nothing to conceal the mutilation, 
 
350 THE HEART LINE 
 
 shocking as it was. His manner toward the girl wag 
 that of a lover, devoted and tender. 
 
 "Did you ever see anything so awful?" said Fancy. 
 "And isn t she terribly in love with him though! I 
 know who she is; her name is Fleurette Heller. She 
 came into Granthope s studio once and I took a 
 great liking to her. Frank told her that her love affair 
 would come out all right, and she d be happier than she 
 ever was in her life before." 
 
 "I don t see how she can endure that object," said 
 Cayley. 
 
 "Don t you ?" said Fancy, "that s because you don t 
 know women. She s in love with him. I understand 
 it perfectly. I wouldn t care a bit how he looked." 
 
 She nodded, as she spoke, to a man who passed 
 just then. He was dark-skinned, with a pointed beard. 
 He gave her a quick jerk of the head and grinned, 
 showing a line of yellow teeth, and his glance jumped 
 with the rapidity of machinery from her face to Cay- 
 ley s, and away again. He walked on, his hands be 
 hind his back against a coat so faded and shiny as to 
 glow purple as a plum. 
 
 Fancy s eyes followed him. "That s Vixley," she 
 said. 
 
 Cayley s look turned from a pretty blonde across the 
 way and he became immediately attentive. "Who s 
 Vixley?" 
 
 "Why, Professor Vixley, the slate-writer, you 
 know." 
 
 "Oh, yes he s a medium, is he? What sort is he?" 
 
 She shook her head. "Wolf! He makes me sick. 
 I m afraid of him, too. He s out after Granthope with 
 a knife, and I m afraid he ll do for him some day. 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE LEFT 351 
 
 Frank ought never to have stood in with him, but you 
 know he used to live with a friend of this man s when 
 he was little, and they ve got a hold on him he can t 
 break very well." 
 
 "They know things about him?" 
 
 "Yes, in a way. Before he braced up. He s square 
 now, and he s trying to shake that bunch. Poor old 
 Frank!" 
 
 Cayley pulled at his mustache. "I wish I had no 
 ticed Vixley." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, I d like to see him, that s all. He must be a 
 pretty clever fakir. Of course he isn t straight ?" 
 
 "As a bow-knot," said Fancy, "but if he amuses 
 you, I ll introduce you to him. I ve got a pretty good 
 stand-in with him, yet." She smiled sadly. 
 
 "Suppose you do. I d like to hear him talk." 
 
 "All right," said Fancy. They rose and walked in 
 the medium s direction, encountering him on the fore- 
 ward deck. He was holding his hat against the fresh 
 breeze and gazing at the approaching lights of the 
 city. The meeting was somewhat constrained at first. 
 Vixley seemed to be embarrassed at Cayley s aristo 
 cratic appearance, and evidently wondered what his 
 motive was in being introduced. Cayley, however, was 
 sufficiently a man of the world to be able to put the 
 medium at his ease. He told stories, he made jokes, 
 and gradually drew Vixley out. The wolf talked gin 
 gerly, making sure of his ground, his little black eyes 
 shifting from one to the other, whether he spoke or 
 listened. Cayley held him cleverly until the crowd 
 began to descend, making ready for the disembarka 
 tion. They went down to the lower deck. Here the 
 
352 THE HEART LINE 
 
 crowd had begun to pack together into a close mass, 
 jostling, joking, singing all sorts and conditions of 
 men in a common holiday mood. 
 
 Cayley managed so that Fancy went ahead, and, 
 with some dexterous manoeuvering, allowed two or 
 three persons to pass between himself and her. Vix- 
 ley was just behind him, when Cayley turned and said 
 quickly : 
 
 "Can you meet me at the Hospital Saloon at ten 
 o clock to-night?" 
 
 "What for?" the Professor demanded. 
 
 "Important something about Payson. It is de 
 cidedly to your advantage to see me." 
 
 "I ll be there!" A light gleamed behind Vixley s 
 shrewd black eyes. 
 
 The two squirmed their way to where Fancy was 
 standing, and accompanied her off the boat. At the en 
 trance to the ferry building the medium took his leave. 
 Cayley and Fancy had dinner together, after which, 
 urging an engagement, he put her aboard her car 
 and walked down Market Street to the "Hospital." 
 
 Vixley was there, waiting for him, sitting at a side 
 table, regarding an enormous painting of a nude over 
 the bar. His quick eye caught Cayley as he entered 
 and drew him on. For the rest of the interview they 
 did not leave the young man s face. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 
 
 "All I got to say is this," said Madam Spoil, "if you 
 know what s best for yourself, you won t make no 
 enemies." 
 
 "I scarcely think you can hurt me much," said Grant- 
 hope, losing interest in the discussion, as he saw he 
 could make no way with her. 
 
 "We can t, can t we? We know a whole lot more 
 about you than you d care to have told, Frank Grant- 
 hope. Since I seen you last, things have developed with 
 Payson, and now we re in a position to say to you, 
 look out for yourself. Payson s stock has went up 
 some. We ve got inside information that s valuable." 
 
 "Then you don t need me, surely." 
 
 "We need you to keep your mouth shut, if nothing 
 else." 
 
 "You mean not to tell Mr. Payson anything? I 
 would if I thought I could make him listen." 
 
 "Tell him? Lord, you can tell him till you re black 
 in the face, and he wouldn t believe it not till you tell 
 him where we got our information. Why, if he 
 caught me at the keyhole of his room, he wouldn t 
 suspect anything. We ve got the goods to deliver this 
 time, don t you fool yourself. Payson s a ten-to-one 
 shot all right. All we want to be sure of now is the 
 girl you re trying to marry." 
 
 "I m not trying to marry her," said Granthope bit 
 terly. 
 
 353 
 
354 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "That s lucky for you !" 
 
 "Why?" he demanded suspiciously. 
 
 Madam Spoil spoke very slowly and deliberately 
 without asperity, "Because if you should be fool 
 enough to try it on your own hook without helping 
 us out in our game, why, we d have to show you up 
 to her. I know a little too much about you, Frank 
 Granthope, for you to throw me down as easy as that. 
 You can t exactly set yourself up for a saint, you 
 know ; there s the Bennett affair and one or two more 
 like it. Then, again, there s Fancy Gray and several 
 others like that. It ll add up to a pretty tidy scandal, 
 if the Payson girl should happen to hear about it all ; 
 and if not her, there s others that it won t do you any 
 good to have know." 
 
 Granthope shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, 
 looking calmly at the medium. Her face was as placid 
 and unwrinkled as his. She showed not the slightest 
 trace of vindictiveness, talking as though discussing 
 some impersonal business arrangement. 
 
 "Then I am to understand that you threaten me 
 with blackmail?" 
 
 "Black, white or yellow, any color you like." 
 She made a deprecatory gesture, "But I don t 
 put it that way myself; all I do say is, that it s 
 for your interest to leave us alone. You know as well 
 as I do that we can put the kibosh on your business, 
 if we want to. We ve got a pretty good gang to work 
 with, and when we pass the word round and hand you 
 the double-cross, you won t read many more palms at 
 five per, not in this town you won t." 
 
 He smiled. "That s all a bluff. You.^can t expose 
 me without giving yourself away as well." 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 355 
 
 "What have we got to lose? We could get the old 
 man back any time we gave him a jolly. You can t 
 bust up our business too many suckers in town for 
 that Lord, I ve been exposed till I grew fat on it. 
 But we can break you, Frank Granthope ; we can bust 
 your business and queer you with this swell push, 
 easy, not to speak of Clytie Payson." 
 
 "Well, then," said Granthope, rising and taking his 
 hat, "go ahead and do it! We might just as well 
 settle this thing now. Smash my business I don t 
 care ; I wish you would ! Ruin any social ambition 
 I may be fool enough to have it ll serve me right for 
 caring for such nonsense. Tell Miss Payson all you 
 know it ll save me the shame of telling her myself. 
 God knows I wish she did know it ! I m getting sick 
 of the whole dirty game." 
 
 Madam Spoil, completely taken aback by his unex 
 pected change of base, stood with a sneer on her face, 
 watching him. "You ought to go on the stage, Frank 
 Granthope you almost fooled me for a minute," she 
 said with an ironic smile. "I fully expected you to say 
 you had joined the Salvation Army next, and had come 
 around here to save me from hell. So you ve got 
 religion, have you? You d look well in a white neck 
 tie, you would! And your inside pocket full of mash 
 notes !" 
 
 "Well," he said, walking to the door, "you ve had 
 your say and I ve had mine. You can believe what you 
 please, but when you do think it over, you may re 
 call the fact that I usually mean what I say." 
 
 Th is was the end of the interview. Madam Spoil, 
 at Vixley s instigation, had sent for Granthope and 
 had "put on the screws." Granthope walked back to 
 
356 THE HEART LINE 
 
 his rooms in a brown study. He was at bay now, and 
 there seemed to be no escape for him. 
 
 The red-headed office boy was whistling and whit 
 tling a pencil lazily at Fancy s desk as the palmist en 
 tered. There was no one else in the room. 
 
 "Has anybody been here, Jim?" Granthope asked. 
 
 Jim looked up carelessly and replied, "Dere was a 
 lady what blew in about a half an hour ago and she 
 told me she might float back." 
 
 "Who was she?" 
 
 "She wouldn t leave no name, but she was a kissa- 
 maroot from Peachville Center all right. She looked 
 like she was just graduated from a French laundry. 
 She left dese gloves here." 
 
 He handed over a pair of long, immaculately white 
 gloves, which were lying on a chair. Granthope 
 looked at them carefully, blew one out till it took the 
 form of a hand and then inspected the wrinkles. 
 
 "Oh," he said. "Tell Miss Payson- to come into my 
 studio when she comes back." 
 
 "Say, Mr. Granthope, who s Miss Gray? De lady 
 wanted to know where was Miss Gray, and I told 
 her she could search me, for I wasn t on. She looked 
 like she took me for a shine to be holdin down de desk 
 here; dat s right." 
 
 Granthope walked quickly into his studio without 
 answering. 
 
 He seated himself thoughtfully and looked about 
 him, still holding the white glove caressingly in his 
 hand. His eye traveled from the electric-lighted table, 
 round the black velvet arras, to the panel where the 
 signs of the zodiac were embroidered in gold ; then 
 his eyes closed. He sat silent for ten minutes or so, 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 357 
 
 \ 
 
 then he drew his hand through his heavy black hair 
 and across his brow. His eyes opened; he arose; a 
 faint whimsical smile shone on his face. 
 
 Then, still smiling, he strode deliberately across the 
 room, grasped the black velvet hanging and gave it a 
 violent tug, wrenching it from the cornice. It fell 
 in a soft, dark mass upon the floor. He seized the next 
 breadth of drapery, and the next, tearing them from 
 the wall. So he went calmly round the room in his 
 work of destruction, disclosing a widening space of 
 horribly-patterned wall-paper pink and yellow roses 
 writhing up a violently blue blackground. On the 
 last side of the room two windows appeared, the glass 
 almost opaque with dust. 
 
 He threw up a sash; a shaft of sunshine shot in, 
 and, falling upon the velvet waves upon the floor, 
 changed them to dull purple. In that ray a universe of 
 tiny motes danced radiantly. A current of air set 
 them in motion and swept them from the room through 
 the window into the world outside. 
 
 And, as he stood there, his face like that of a child 
 who had released a toy balloon, watching that beam of 
 yellow light, Clytie Payson opened the door of the 
 studio and looked in at him. She appeared suddenly, 
 like a picture thrown vividly upon a screen. She saw 
 Granthope before he saw her, and, for a moment, she 
 stood gazing. His pose was eloquent; he was, in his 
 setting, almost symbolistic she needed no explana 
 tion of what had happened. Then, it was as if some 
 tense cord snapped in her mind, and she threw herself 
 forward, no longer the dreamer, but the actor, giving 
 free rein to her emotion. 
 
 He turned and caught sight of her. Her hands were 
 
353 THE HEART LINE 
 
 outstretched, her eyes were burning- with a new fire, 
 as if her smoldering had burst into flame. 
 
 "Oh! You have done it! I knew you would!" 
 
 He gave her his two hands in hers, nodding his 
 head slowly; his smile was that of one who viewed 
 himself impersonally, looking on at his own actions. 
 He did not speak. A quaint humor struggled in his 
 mind with the intensity of the situation. Something 
 in him, also, had snapped, and he was self-conscious in 
 his new role. 
 
 She clutched his hands excitedly, and lifted her eyes 
 up to his, with a new, unabashed fondness burning in 
 them. She had thrown away all her reserves. 
 
 "It s magnificent!" she said. "Oh, how I have 
 longed for this! How I have waited for it! And 
 now, how I admire and love you for it !" 
 
 Her face was so near his that, like an electric spark, 
 the flash of eagerness darted from one to the other. 
 He felt the shock of emotion tingling his blood. It 
 swept his mind from control and flooded his will with 
 an irresistible desire for her. He saw that she was 
 ready for him, willing to be won. He took her in his 
 arms and kissed her softly, but gripping her almost 
 savagely in his embrace. 
 
 "Do you mean it?" he cried. "Do you love me, 
 really? I can t believe it! It s too much for me. 
 Tell me!" 
 
 She released herself gently, still looking up at him 
 and smiling frankly. "Didn t you know? You, who 
 know so much of women ? I thought you understood 
 me as I have understood you." 
 
 He still held her, as if he feared he could never get 
 her again so close, and she went on : 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 359 
 
 . 
 
 "Oh, I would never have told you, if you had gone 
 as you were going, though I should always have 
 loved you I could never have helped that. But now, 
 after this crisis, this victory I know what it all means 
 I must tell you ! Why shouldn t I ? It is true, and 
 I am not ashamed to be the first to speak. Yes, I love 
 you P 
 
 The reaction came, his sight grew dark at the 
 thought of his unworthiness, and he freed her, putting 
 her away slowly. Then, as if to resist any temptation, 
 he clasped his hands behind his back. 
 
 "I can t stand it!" he exclaimed. "It isn t fair for 
 me to let you say that. Don t say it yet. Wait till 
 I have told you what I am. Then you will despise 
 me, and hate me." 
 
 "Never!" she said firmly. "Do you think I don t 
 know you? I am sure. It is impossible for you to sur 
 prise me. Whatever you have been or done, it will 
 make no difference for better or for worse. Of 
 course, I can t know all the circumstances of your life, 
 but I feel that I am sure of your motives I may know 
 an ideal *y u / but, if that is not what you are now, it is 
 what you are to be. It is that y u that I love all 
 the rest is dead, I hope." She swept her eyes about 
 the barren room, and her hand went out in comprehen 
 sive gesture. "Surely all this can t mean anything less 
 than that? You are not one for compromise or half- 
 measures. You have burned your bridges, haven t 
 you ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," he said. "I don t intend to do things half 
 way. But it s not a pretty story I have to tell. It s 
 .selfish, sordid, vulgar." 
 
 "Oh, I know something of it, already. Mr. Cayley 
 
360 THE HEART LINE 
 
 has told me about that Bennett affair, for he sus 
 pected, somehow, that you were implicated in it. Aid 
 I have guessed more. You needn t be afraid. But 
 you had better tell me as much as you can not for 
 my sake, but for your own. Then it will all be over, 
 and we can begin fresh." 
 
 She dropped to a seat on the couch and leaned lan 
 guidly against the cushions, clasping her hands in her 
 lap. He scarcely dared look at her, and walked nerv 
 ously up and down the room, dreading the inevitable 
 ordeal. For a while he did not speak, then he turned 
 swiftly to say: 
 
 "Positively, I don t know where to begin !" 
 
 "You would better begin at the beginning, then 
 with Madam Grant." 
 
 "You suspected that, then?" 
 
 "It was that suspicion that has drawn me to you. I 
 should never have begun to love you without that, 
 perhaps. It seemed to justify my growing feeling for 
 you. Haven t I hinted at that often enough ? I mean 
 that in some way we had been connected before. You 
 were the little boy who disappeared when she died, 
 weren t you?" 
 
 "Yes, of course." 
 
 "But I can t make it out! There was never any 
 child there when I went, though I was conscious of 
 some secret presence some one invisible." 
 
 "I was locked in the closet I watched you through 
 a crack in the door." 
 
 "Oh!" Her eyes widened with a full direct stare; 
 her breath came quickly at the revelation. He watched 
 her, as her expression was transmuted from bewilder 
 ment to the beginning of an agonized disillusion. He 
 
His pose was eloquent 
 
 ?*& 357 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 361 
 
 could not bear it, as he saw that her mind was has 
 tening to the explanation, and he forestalled her next 
 question by his ruthless confession. 
 
 "Of course, that s the way I was able to give you that 
 very wonderful clairvoyant reading the picture of you 
 in Madam Grant s room." 
 
 She took the blow bravely, but it was evident that 
 she had not been quite ready for it. "Then you are 
 really not clairvoyant at all? You were simply im 
 posing on my credulity? I want to know the exact 
 truth, so that we can straighten matters out." She 
 spoke slowly, hesitatingly. 
 
 "I told you it was a ghastly story this is the least 
 of it," he said, wincing. 
 
 The smile fluttered back to her quivering lips, and 
 with a quick impulse she rose, went to him again and 
 clasped his hand. 
 
 "Oh, I m not making it easy for you!" she cried. 
 "Forgive me, please. I can bear anything you say 
 be sure of that, won t you ? Come here !" 
 
 She drew him down to the couch beside her, still 
 keeping his hand in hers. "This is better," she said 
 softly. "Don t think of me as an inquisitor, but as a 
 friend. What you have been can not matter any 
 longer. But let us have no more deceit or reserve 
 between us. You see, I don t quite understand yet 
 about that day. How did you know who I was? 
 How did you get my name?" 
 
 He summoned his courage as for an operation des 
 perately necessary, and looked her straight in the eye. 
 
 "That was a trick. I read Clytie inside your ring." 
 
 She took it without flinching. "But my last name 
 that wasn t there !" 
 
362 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, that was inspiration;! can t explain it. You 
 see, I had happened to hear the name Tayson that 
 morning, and it recalled the fact that I had seen it be 
 fore upon a picture in Madam Grant s bedroom. Your 
 father s name, Oliver Payson, it was." 
 
 "In Madam Grant s room? How strange! I don t 
 understand that." 
 
 "Nor I, either. Yet you say he knew her?" queried 
 Granthope. 
 
 "Only slightly, so he gave me to understand, at 
 least still, that may not be true. He may have his 
 reasons for not telling more." She turned to him 
 with a strange, deliberate, questing expression, and 
 said, "Who are you, anyway?" Then, "Was Madam 
 Grant your mother?" 
 
 "I don t know. I ve often suspected that it might 
 be so, but somehow I don t quite believe it. I don t, 
 at least, feel it." 
 
 "Why did you run away?" 
 
 "Just before she died she asked me to take some 
 money she had and to keep it safe. I hid it and ran 
 away because I was afraid that they d find it and take 
 it away from me. I went to Stockton and carried 
 the package to a bank, but they frightened me with 
 their questions and I ran away without any explana 
 tions. Of course it s lost, and it was, as I remember it, 
 a big sum, some thousands. I could never prove that 
 I left it there, for my name wasn t on the package of 
 bills. I had written some false name I forget what. 
 I never let any one know that I had lived with 
 Madam Grant, after that, for fear that I should be 
 accused of having stolen the money. My story would 
 never have been believed, of course." 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 363 
 
 "I see." Clyde s eyes half closed in thought. "I m 
 sure it was meant for you, Francis." 
 
 The sound of his name stirred him and his hand 
 tightened on hers. \ 
 
 "Perhaps so. But I ve always thought that she 
 intended it for some of her kin. It has been 
 impossible for me to trace any of her family, though. 
 All I know about her is that she was at Vassar Col 
 lege, but I can t possibly identify her, because Grant 
 was undoubtedly a name she assumed here." 
 
 "We must try to see what we can do, you and I. 
 Perhaps I may be able to help you, somehow. What 
 happened after that?" 
 
 "I worked at odd jobs in the country for a number 
 of years, then came back to San Francisco. There I 
 did anything I could get to do till I met Madam Spoil. 
 She was a medium, and is yet. I lived with her sev 
 eral years." 
 
 As he had torn down the draperies of that dark, 
 mysterious room, he went on, now, to tear down the 
 curtain of shams and hypocrisies that had hidden his 
 true self from her and from her kind. 
 
 "That was the beginning of a long education in 
 trickery. I was surrounded by charlatans and impos 
 tors, I was taught that the public was gullible and that 
 it liked to be fooled that it would be fooled, whether 
 we did it or not; and that we might benefit by its 
 credulity as well as any one else. There was sophistry 
 enough, God knows, in their miserable philosophy, but 
 I was young and was for a while taken in by it. I 
 had no other teachers ; I had only the example of the 
 colony of fakirs about me. I saw our victims com 
 forted and encouraged by the mental bread-pills we fed 
 
364 THE HEART LINE 
 
 them. So we played on their weakness and vanity 
 without scruple. I learned rapidly. I was cleverer 
 than my teachers; I went far ahead of them. I in 
 vented new tricks and methods. But it was too easy. 
 There was scarcely any need of subtlety or finesse. 
 The most primitive methods sufficed. You have no 
 idea how easily seemingly intelligent persons can be 
 led once they are past the first turning. That was 
 finally why I got out of it and went into palmistry. 
 That had, at least, a basis of science, and a dignified 
 history." 
 
 He arose again and walked to the open window. 
 His self-consciousness was a little relieved by his in 
 terest in the analysis. He looked out, and turned back 
 to her with a grim smile. 
 
 "It s in the air, here the gambling instinct is 
 paramount!" he said. "Almost everybody gambles in 
 San Francisco. You know that well enough. You 
 can almost hear the rattle of the slot-machines on the 
 cigar-stand at the corner, down there. It s that way 
 all over town. The gold-fever has never died out. 
 Every one speculates or plays the races or bets on ball 
 games or on the prize-fights, or plays faro or poker or 
 bridge or, at least, makes love. They re all super 
 stitious, all credulous, all willing to take risks and 
 chances, and so the mediums thrive. Tips are sought 
 for and paid for. Every one wants to get rich quickly 
 and not always scrupulously. It s not a city of healthy 
 growth; it s a town of surprises, of magic and mad 
 ness and rank enthusiasms. We pretended to show 
 them the short cuts to success, that s all. You know, 
 perhaps, how the money-getting ability can eclipse 
 all other faculties, and you won t be surprised when I 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 365 
 
 tell you that we made large sums from men of wealth 
 and prominence they were the easiest of the lot, 
 usually." 
 
 She brought him back to his story. "Of course I 
 understood from what I heard, that you had been an 
 accomplice of these mediums. I don t think you need 
 to go into that." 
 
 "Oh, you don t know all ! It will sicken you to have 
 me go into the actual details, but I want you to know 
 the worst. I think I must tell you, lest others may. 
 One picture will be enough to make you see how vulgar 
 and despicable I had become in that epoch. You d 
 never get to the sordidness of it unless I told you in 
 so many words. Do you think you can stand it ? You 
 may not want ever to know me again. God ! I don t 
 know whether I can tell you or not! It s terrible to 
 have to sully you with the description of it!" 
 
 For a moment she faltered, gazing at him, trembling. 
 Her eyes sought his and left them, often, as she spoke. 
 "You don t mean I ve heard that some of these me 
 diums the vilest of them don t hesitate to take 
 advantage of the sensual weakness of their patrons 
 that they Oh, don t tell me that you ever had any 
 part in that!" She covered her face. 
 
 He walked over to her and pulled her hands away, 
 looking down into her eyes. "Do you think I would 
 ever have kissed you if I had?" he said. "No, there 
 were depths I didn t fall to, after all. Oh, I ve had my 
 way with women often enough ; but not that way." 
 
 She threw off her fears with a gesture of relief, 
 and her mood changed. "I believe you. But don t 
 tell me any more, please. I think I know, in a way, 
 just about what you were capable of, and some things 
 
366 THE HEART LINE 
 
 I couldn t bear to think about. But my reason has al 
 ways fought against my intuition whenever I suspected 
 you of any real dishonor. Thank Heaven I shall never 
 have to do so again ! I think I was wise enough to 
 see how, in all this, you had the inclinations without 
 the opportunities for better things. You were a vic 
 tim of your environment. Spare me any more. I 
 can t bear to see you abase yourself so. I am so sure 
 you have outlived all this. It s atl over. I have told 
 you that I love you. I shall always love you !" 
 
 He yearned for her for the peace and support that 
 she could give him at this crisis, but his pride was too 
 hot, yet, for him to accept it; he had not finished his 
 confession. She was still on a pedestal he admired 
 and respected her, but she was above his reach. He 
 could not quite believe that hint in her eyes, for her 
 halo blinded him. She was still princess, seeress, god 
 dess not yet a woman he could take fearlessly to his 
 arms. His hesitation at her advances, therefore, was 
 reluctant, almost coy. He did not wish to take her 
 from her niche ; he must first receive absolution. Af 
 ter that he dared not think. She had allured him in 
 the first stages of his acquaintance, she still allured 
 him; but her spiritual attributes dominated him. "I 
 think I am another man, now," he said, "but my re 
 pentance is scarcely an hour old. It is too young; it 
 has not yet proved itself. It s not fair for me to ac 
 cept all you can give for the little I can return. I 
 must meet you as an equal/ 
 
 She looked at him calmly. "It is more than a few 
 hours old," she said. "Do you think I don t know? 
 What I first saw in you I have watched grow ever 
 since. I told you all I could ; it was not for me to help 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 367 
 
 you more. It was for you to help yourself to de 
 velop from within. I think you were all ready for 
 me, and I came at the psychological moment." She 
 looked around the room from which the sunlight had 
 now retreated, leaving it shadowy and dim. The hang 
 ings of black velvet were scattered about the floor, the 
 little table and its two chairs were like a group of 
 skeletons, empty, satiric, suggestive of past vanities. 
 " What is to come is real ; it was a dream that 
 passed/ " she quoted. 
 
 He found a new courage and a new hope. It shone 
 in his eyes, it tingled in his body; something of his 
 old audacity returned. He stood dark and strong be 
 fore her. 
 
 "Oh, you have helped, indeed!" he said. "I think 
 this would never have come alone, for I was sunk in 
 an apathy and yet, I m not sure. The old life was 
 no longer possible. I confess that I was in a trap, 
 threatened with exposure I feared your discovery of 
 what I had been I smarted under the shame of your 
 disapproval but it was not that that influenced me. 
 It was like a chemical reaction, as all human inter 
 course is; you precipitated all this deceit and hypoc 
 risy at one stroke and left my mind clear." 
 
 "I m so glad you feel it that way," Clytie said. "It 
 brings us together, doesn t it ? It lessens the debt you 
 would owe me." Her eyelids crinkled in a delicious 
 expression of humor, as she added, "And it makes this 
 place seem a little less like a Sunday-school room !" 
 
 "Oh, I suppose many a man has refused to reform 
 for fear of being considered a prig!" he laughed. "But 
 I haven t swept out all the corners yet. I must finish 
 cleaning house before I invite you in." 
 
3 68 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Why should we talk about it any more ?" 
 
 "But it isn t all over!" he exclaimed. "I haven t 
 told everything. It s all over, so far as I am con 
 cerned I shall not go back but now you are involved 
 in it. Could anything drag me lower than that?" 
 
 "What do you mean ?" she asked. 
 
 "Only that, because of my fault in not warning 
 you before, your father has already become the latest 
 dupe for this gang of fakirs. I m afraid he s in their 
 power. Hasn t he told you anything about it?" 
 
 "A little. What is there to fear from them?" 
 
 "Of course, it s only his money they re after. They 
 have got hold of considerable information about him 
 I don t know just how or what and they have suc 
 ceeded in hoodwinking him into a belief that they 
 have supernatural powers. I m afraid it s no use for 
 me to attempt to expose them. He d never believe 
 anything I could say." 
 
 "No, that s useless. He has taken a violent preju 
 dice against you, for some reason." 
 
 "Oh, the reason is easy to find. I ve made enemies 
 of Madam Spoil and Vixley, and they have probably 
 done their best to hurt my reputation. They made 
 me a proposition to join them ; in fact, their scheme 
 was for me to work you for information make love 
 to you, in order to help them rob your father." 
 
 Clytie looked at him trustfully. "You can never 
 convince me that that was the reason why you were 
 attracted to me, for I shall not believe you!" She 
 patted his hand affectionately, as he sat at her feet. 
 
 He shook his head. "I don t know I wouldn t be 
 sure it wasn t." 
 
 "Ah, I know you better!" She grew blithe, and a 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 369 
 
 mischievous smile appeared on her lips. Her eyes 
 twinkled as she said archly: "Perhaps I may say 
 that I know myself better, too. I m vainer than you 
 seem to think, and you re not at all complimentary. 
 Don t you think don t you think that perhaps I 
 myself had something to do with your attentions to 
 me ?" She put her head on one side and looked at him 
 with mock coquetry. 
 
 His eyes feasted upon her beauty. "I won t be 
 banal enough to say that you are different from every 
 woman I have ever known, or that you re the only 
 woman I ever loved, though both of those things 
 are true enough. If I had ever loved any other 
 woman, probably I should feel just the same about 
 you as I do now. But no woman has ever stirred me 
 mentally before. You have given me myself nobody 
 else could ever have done that. I have nothing to 
 give you in return nothing but twenty-odd mistaken, 
 misspent years." 
 
 "And how many more to be wonderfully rilled, I 
 wonder? You re only a child, and I must teach 
 you. Can you trust me? Remember that I knew you 
 when you were a little boy." 
 
 "I wonder what will become of me? I suppose I 
 shall get on somehow. It doesn t interest me much 
 yet, but I suppose it will have to be considered. I ll 
 fight it out alone." He looked up suddenly. "When 
 do you go East?" 
 
 She smiled. "I came down here to tell you that I 
 should leave on Saturday." 
 
 He jumped up with a bitter look and walked to 
 the window. 
 
 She looked over to him with her eyes half shut and 
 
370 THE HEART LINE 
 
 a delectable expression upon her lips. "But I ve 
 decided not to go at all !" 
 
 She almost drawled it. 
 
 In an instant he was back at her side, borne on 
 a flood of happiness. For a moment he looked at her 
 hard. His eyes went from feature to feature, to her 
 hands, her hair in silent approval. Then he exclaimed 
 decidedly : 
 
 "Oh, you can t link yourself with me in any way. 
 I m a social outcast why, now, I haven t even the ad 
 vantage of being a picturesque adventurer! You will 
 compromise yourself fearfully you ll be ostracized 
 oh, it s impossible I can t permit it !" 
 
 "You need not fear for yourself or for me," she 
 said, clasping his hand. "If I love you, what do I 
 care what should you care? I have come to you like 
 Porphyria but I am no Porphyria you ll have no 
 need to strangle me in my hair my darling one wish 
 will be easier found than that!" 
 
 There was something in the unrestrained fondness 
 of her look, now, that made him jump to a place be 
 side her. What might have followed was interrupted 
 by the sound of a familiar voice in the anteroom, de 
 manding Mr. Granthope. Clytie sprang up, her cheeks 
 burning. Granthope turned coolly to the door, with 
 his eyebrows lifted. Mr. Payson appeared at the en 
 trance. He was scowling under his bushy eyebrows, 
 the muscles of his face were twitching. A cane was 
 firmly clenched in his right hand. He bent a harsh 
 look at his daughter. 
 
 "What does this mean, Clytie ?" he demanded. 
 
 She had recovered on the instant and faced him 
 splendidly, in neither defiance nor supplication. "It 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 371 
 
 means," she said in her low, steady voice, "that as you 
 won t permit me to receive Mr. Granthope in your 
 house, I must see him in his." 
 
 "Leave this room instantly!" he thundered bombas 
 tically. 
 
 "Please don t make a scene, father. I m quite old 
 enough to take care of myself, and to judge for 
 myself. You needn t humiliate me." 
 
 "Humiliate you ! If you re not humiliated at being 
 found here with a cheap impostor, I don t think I can 
 shame you! This man is a rank scoundrel and a 
 cheat I won t have you compromise yourself with 
 such a mountebank!" 
 
 Granthope stood watching her unruffled, fearless 
 pose, confident in her power to control the situation. 
 
 "Mr. Granthope is my friend, father. Don t say 
 anything that you may regret. I don t intend to leave 
 you alone with him till you are master of yourself, and 
 can say what you have come to say without anger. He 
 has respected your request not to call on me at the 
 house, and I came here of my own accord, without 
 his invitation. And he has always treated me as a 
 gentleman should." 
 
 "A gentleman !" Mr. Payson sneered. "I know what 
 he is he s a damned trickster. I ve always suspected 
 it, but since I kicked him out of my house I ve had 
 proof of it. I know his record" he turned to Grant- 
 hope "from persons who know you well, sir!" 
 
 "I suppose you mean Vixley or Madam Spoil." 
 
 "You can t deny that they know you pretty well ?" 
 
 "Your daughter knows more, I think. I have just 
 taken the liberty of informing her as to just how much 
 of a scoundrel I am." 
 
372 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "And you have the impertinence to consider your 
 self her social equal !" 
 
 "I think Miss Payson s position is sufficiently assured 
 Ifor her to be in no danger." 
 
 "Well, yours certainly is not. I ve heard of your 
 lady-killing. I suppose you want to add my daugh 
 ter s scalp to your belt. Haven t you women enough 
 running after you yet? So you wheedled her with 
 mock-confession tried the cry-baby on her. Well, i*. 
 won t work with me. I ll tell her all about you, don t 
 be afraid !" 
 
 Clytie went to him and laid a hand gently upon 
 his arm. "Father, we ll go, now, please. I can t 
 bear this. You need only to look about you to 
 see that, whatever Mr. Granthope has been, he is no 
 longer a palmist. You see this room is already dis 
 mantled if you ll only listen, I ll explain everything." 
 
 "It does look rather theatrical here." Mr. Payson 
 looked at the piles of velvet on the floor, then 
 turned again to the young man. "It seems that you 
 have the audacity to want to marry my daughter. No 
 doubt this little scene is a part of the game. It s very 
 pretty, very effective. But let me tell you that this sen 
 sational tomfoolery won t be of any use. You are a 
 charlatan, sir! You ve always been one, and you 
 always will be." 
 
 "Mr. Payson," Granthope said, with no trace of an 
 ger, "I can t deny that something of what you say is 
 true, but your daughter knows that much already, and 
 she has it from a better authority than yours. I can t 
 blame you for your feeling in this matter; it s quite 
 natural, for you don t know me. But I hope in time 
 to induce you to believe in me. I wish you would let 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 373 
 
 me begin by doing what I should have done when I 
 first met your daughter warn you that you are in 
 the hands of a dangerous set of swindlers who are de 
 ceiving you systematically. I can tell you a good dea] 
 that it will be greatly to your advantage to know about 
 them." 
 
 The old man broke into ironic laughter. "That s 
 just what they told me you d say," he sneered. "They 
 warned me that you d try to libel them and accuse 
 them of all sorts of impossible tricks. Set a thief to 
 catch a thief, eh? No, that won t work, Mr. Grant- 
 hope. I happen to know too much for that !" 
 
 "Won t you listen to what he has to say, father ? It 
 can do no harm. What do you know about those per 
 sons, after all? They are undoubtedly trying to de 
 ceive you," Clytie said earnestly. 
 
 Granthope added: "I can tell you of tricks they 
 habitually practise." 
 
 "What s that tome? Haven t I got eyes ? Haven t 
 I common sense? Can you tell me how they 
 find out things about my own life that no one living 
 knows but me?" 
 
 "I can tell you how it was done in other cases " 
 
 "Aha, I thought so you can tell me, for instance, 
 how to crawl through a trap in the mopboard, can t 
 you ? I d rather hear how you impose on silly women, 
 if you re going in for your confessions. What do you 
 expect me to believe? I am quite satisfied with my 
 own ability to investigate. I haven t lived for fifty 
 years in the West to be imposed upon by flimflam. 
 I m not suffering from senile decay quite yet !" 
 
 He took Clytie to the door; there he paused dra 
 matically, to deliver his parting shot. 
 
374 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I notice you ve hidden away that young woman 
 you re living with. You might as well send for her 
 my daughter is not likely to be back again in a 
 hurry." 
 
 As they left, Clytie gave him a look which denied 
 her father s words. 
 
 Granthope waited till the hall door had slammed, 
 then went into the office, where the red-haired boy was 
 lolling out of the window. 
 
 "Jim," he said, laying his hand on the boy s shoul 
 der, "I shall not need you any more. Here s your pay 
 for the week. You needn t come back." 
 
 Jim shuffled into his coat, whistling, pulled on his 
 cap, and left without a trace of regret. Granthope 
 pulled a chair up to the grate. The dusk fell, and he 
 still remained, watching the fire. 
 
 It was after six o clock when a knock awoke him 
 from his reverie. He called out a moody, annoyed, 
 "Come in!" without rising. 
 
 Mrs. Page rustled in, bringing an odor of sandal- 
 wood. She was dressed in a squirrel-coat and a, 
 Cossack cap, from which a long veil floated. Her 
 cheeks were rosy with the wind, her glossy hair co 
 quetted over her forehead in dark, springy curls. She 
 stopped, her head on one side, her arms saucily akimbo, 
 as Granthope sprang up and snapped on the electric 
 light. 
 
 "Oh, I m so glad I found you!" she bubbled. 
 "You re run after so much now that I knew it was only 
 a chance, my finding you in. I hope I didn t disturb 
 you at silent prayer, or anything, did I ? You looked 
 terribly serious. Were you thinking of home and 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 375 
 
 mother? If you don t look out, some day you ll be 
 framed and labeled Pictures in the Fire. Now, you re 
 angry with me ! What s the matter ? Don t frown, 
 please; it isn t at all becoming!" 
 
 She walked up to him, her hand outstretched. 
 Lightly he evaded her and forced a smile. 
 
 "What an iceberg you are, nowadays, Frank!" she 
 laughed. "Don t be afraid ; I m not going to kiss you ! 
 It s only little Violet, the Pride of the Presidio. Please 
 laugh ! You used to think that was funny." 
 
 "Do have a seat, won t you?" he said, in a half 
 hearted attempt to conceal his distaste. 
 
 "Thanks, awfully, but really I can t wait. I just 
 simply tore to get here, and I must go right off. You 
 must come along with me; so get on your hat and 
 coat." She looked about the room for them. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked without curiosity. 
 
 "Why, a dinner, of course ! What else could it be at 
 this time of day? It s Mr. Summer s affair, and I 
 promised to get you." 
 
 "Mr. Summer is the latest, I suppose?" 
 
 She came back to him and took his coat by the two 
 lapels, smiling up at him. 
 
 "That s mean, Frank ! You know I never went back 
 on you. Bmt you as much as gave me notice, as if I 
 was a servant-girl. Gay s a nice boy, and I like him 
 that s all. I m educating him. Of course, he doesn t 
 know what s what, yet, but he s rather fun. Do come 
 we re going to have dinner at the Poodle Dog, and 
 the Orpheum afterward perhaps Heaven knows 
 where it ll end. There s an awfully swell New York 
 girl coming, a Miss Cavendish, and she s simply dying 
 to meet you. You ll like her. She s a sport you can t 
 
376 THE HEART LINE 
 
 feaze her and she s pretty enough to suit even you. 
 You can have her all to yourself. Come on !" 
 
 "I m sorry, but I can t go to-night," he said wearily. 
 
 "Oh, Frank, please! Not if I beg you?" She 
 looked at him languishingly, and tried for his hand. 
 
 "Really, no! I m sorry, but I m too busy." 
 
 Mrs. Page pouted and turned slowly toward the 
 door. 
 
 "I suppose you re afraid Gay ll bore you. I ll man 
 age him. I ve got him trained. Or, if you say so 
 we ll go alone? Just you and me. I can get rid of 
 them, some way." 
 
 He shook his head decidedly. 
 
 "Did you have such a dull time the last time over 
 at the Hermitage ?" she tempted. "We might go there. 
 I don t know when I ll have another chance. Edgar 
 will be back soon." She raised her brows meaningly. 
 
 "It s awfully good of you but I can t, possibly." 
 
 "You might say you d like to !" 
 
 "I don t really care to, if you must have it !" 
 
 She bridled and tossed her head. "Oh, very well ! * 
 she sniffed, and was off in a huff. 
 
 Granthope went to the desk, and, taking a bunch of 
 keys from his pocket, unlocked the two lower draw 
 ers. The first contained a collection of photographs of 
 women. He drew them out in handfuls, stopping at 
 one occasionally, or turning it over to see what was 
 written upon it. The most were inscribed, on the back, 
 or scrawled across the face, "To Mr. Granthope" 
 several "To Francis" one or two "To Frank, with 
 love." All types of beauty were represented, all sorts 
 of costumes, all ages, all phases of pretty women s 
 vanity. He looked at some with a puzzled expression, 
 
THE FIRST TURNING TO THE RIGHT 377 
 
 searching his memory for a clue to their identity. 
 At a few he smiled sarcastically, at some he frowned. 
 Once or twice his face softened to tenderness or pity. 
 There was one of Fancy amongst them, showing her 
 in costume. It had been taken years ago, while she 
 was acting. He looked at it with & sort of wonder, 
 she seemed so young, so girlish. On the back was 
 written, "N. F. F. I. L." He put it back into the 
 drawer and gathered up the others. 
 
 He made a heap of them and threw them upon the 
 fire, then dropped into the arm-chair to watch them 
 burn. The flames passed from face to face, licking 
 up the features. It was like a mimic death. 
 
 The other drawer was filled with letters, tied into 
 bunches. They were all addressed in feminine hand 
 writing, mostly of the fashionable, angular sort. The 
 envelopes were postmarked chiefly from San Francisco, 
 but there were not a few from Eastern cities and 
 abroad. One out of five bore special delivery stamps. 
 A scent of mingled perfumes came from them. He 
 cut the packages open and threw them into the waste- 
 basket without stopping to read a word. 
 
 He poked up the fire, and, carrying the basket over, 
 fed in the letters, a handful at a time. The flames 
 roared up the chimney, sending out a fierce heat. It 
 took an hour to destroy the whole collection. A mass 
 of distorted, blackened, filmy sheets remained. 
 
 As he looked, a sudden draft made one leaf of char 
 coal glow to a red heat, and the writing showed plain 
 black on a cherry-colored ground. x He stooped curi 
 ously to read it, and saw that it was the remains of a 
 card, filled with Fancy Gray s handwriting. He re 
 membered abstracting her notes upon Clytie, made af- 
 
37S THE HEART LINE 
 
 ter that first day s reading. He had placed it in the 
 letter-drawer for safe keeping, and had forgotten to 
 remove it. 
 
 Only the lower part was legible : 
 
 "... intuitive powers (?!) Play her Mysticism. 
 Easy. Sympathetic fool . . . . " 
 
 The glow suddenly faded, the charred paper writhed 
 again, black and impotent. He gave it a vicious jab 
 with the poker, and scattered it to ashes. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE BLOODSUCKER 
 
 Professor Vixley s place was on Turk Street, the 
 lower flat of three, whose separate doors made a trip 
 let at the top of a tri-divided flight of wooden steps up 
 from the sidewalk. The door had a plate-glass win 
 dow, behind which was a cheap lace curtain. At the 
 side, nailed over the letter slip, was a card bearing the 
 written inscription, 
 
 PROF. P. VIXLEY. 
 
 Inside, a narrow hall ran down into the house, doors 
 leading at intervals on the right hand, to small box- 
 like rooms. The first one was the Professor s sitting- 
 and reception-room, the shearing place for his lambs. 
 The small type-writer on a stand and his roll-top desk 
 attempted to give the room a businesslike aspect, while 
 the homelier needs of comfort were satisfied by the 
 machine-carved Morris chair, a padded, quilted couch 
 with "hand-painted" sofa cushions and a macrame 
 fringe along the mantel. Art was represented by the 
 lincrusta-walton dado below the blank white plastered 
 walls, partly covered with "spirit photographs," and a 
 small parlor organ in the corner. A canary in a gilded 
 cage gave a touch of gaiety to the apartment. 
 
 Here Professor Vixley sat smoking a terrible cigar. 
 Beside him, upon a small draped table, was a pile of 
 
 379 
 
380 THE HEART LINE 
 
 small school slates, a tumbler of water and a sad towel. 
 
 Opposite him, in a patent rocking-chair, was a young 
 woman of some twenty-four or five years. She was 
 a blonde, with pompadoured citron-yellow hair. Her 
 eyes were deep violet, her nose slightly retrousse, giv 
 ing her a whimsical, almost petulantly juvenile look 
 that was decidedly engaging. She was dressed in 
 black, so fittingly that no man would remember what 
 she wore five minutes after he left her. This attractive 
 creature, for she was indubitably winsome, was Flora 
 Flint, by profession a materializing medium. Her 
 past was prolific in adventure ; by her alluring person 
 and the dashing spirit shown in her eyes, her future 
 promised as much as her past. 
 
 "Are you busy to-day, Vixley?" she said. 
 
 "That s what," said Vixley. "I ve got a good graft 
 doped out, and it s liable to be a big thing. First time 
 to-day. One of Gertie Spoil s strikes, and we re work 
 ing him together. Old man Payson it is." 
 
 "Oh, that s the one Doc Masterson expected me to 
 help him with, isn t it?" Flora asked. "I wish you d 
 let me in on that* 
 
 "He ain t in your line, Flo, I expect. Ain t you 
 doin anything now?" 
 
 "Only the regular set, the same old stand-bys, and 
 there s nothing in it at four bits apiece. I ve got so 
 many people to pay that even if I get forty or fifty in 
 a circle my expenses eat it all up. Then I have to 
 keep thinking up new stunts and buy props." 
 
 "You don t have to spend much on gas," Vixley 
 laughed, as he began washing off his slates. 
 
 Flora smiled. "No, but it comes to about the same 
 thing in luminous paint." 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 381 
 
 "Why don t you make it yourself? It ain t nothin 
 but ground oyster-shells and sulphur." 
 
 "Oh, it ain t only that. I only use the best silk 
 gauze that ll fold up small that s expensive; then 
 there s a lot of work on the forms." 
 
 "Don t you get your forms from Chicago now?" 
 Vixley asked. 
 
 "No, they re no good. I can make better ones my 
 self. Oh, occasionally I send for a rubber face or 
 two or some cabinet attachments and extensions. I 
 wish I was clever enough to do the slates." She 
 watched the Professor sharply. 
 
 "Oh, they ain t nothin in slates nowadays it don t 
 seem to take, somehow. They mostly prefer the 
 psychics. I s pose slate-writin has been wrote up too 
 much I know a dozen books describin the tricks, and 
 here s this Drexel chap teachin em at a dollar 
 apiece, even. He s a queer guy. When he can get a 
 bookin he travels as a magician; durin his off-times 
 he sells his tricks to amachures, and then when he s 
 down on his uppers he does the medium. I m sorry 
 I went into physical mediumship; the graft s about 
 played out people is gettin too intelligent. I ve 
 a good mind to try the developin stunt again." 
 
 "Say, do you think Madam Spoil has any real 
 power?" Flora asked. 
 
 Vixley stopped in his work to become epigrammatic. 
 "Some mediums are on and some are honest them 
 that s honest are fools and them that s on are foolin . 
 Gertie s on all right, and she does considerable fishin . 
 I don t say that when she started she didn t have some 
 faculty she used to scare me good, sometimes, and 
 she could catch a name occasional. But Lord, it s so 
 
382 THE HEART LINE 
 
 much easier to fake it; you can generally depend on 
 human nature, and you can t on psychometry." 
 
 "I can tell things sometimes," Flora ventured. 
 
 "Can you?" said Vixley. "Say, I wish you d give 
 me a readin ; they s somethin I want to know about 
 pretty bad ; p raps you could get it for me." 
 
 "Oh, I know you too well. I can t do it much, ex 
 cept the first time I see a party ; but sometimes, when 
 I m materializing, I can go right down and say Tin 
 Henry/ or whatever the name is." 
 
 "I guess they re more likely to say, Are you Henry ? 
 They re so crazy to be fooled that it s a crime to take 
 their money." 
 
 "Women are. They re easy. They simply won t go 
 away without a wonderful story to tell to their friends, 
 but men are more skeptical, as a rule." 
 
 "That s right. But, Lord, when they do swal 
 low it, they take the hook, bait and sinker. 
 Why, look here, I had a party what used to come regu 
 lar about a girl he was stuck on, a Swede he was. 
 Well, one day he went up to this Drexel and he showed 
 him one or two easy ways o workin the slates, provin 
 it was all tricks. The Swede comes back to me and 
 says, Oh, says he, I know it s all a fake now; you 
 can t fool me no more. I looked him straight in the 
 eye and I says : Don t you know that fellow is really 
 one of the best mediums in the business, and he s con 
 trolled by Martin Luther? He was just tryin to test 
 your belief by denyin the truth o spiritualism, and 
 seein if you d have the courage to stand up for what 
 you believed. If your faith ain t no stronger than that, 
 after the tests I gave you, you d better go into Mor- 
 monism and be done with it. " 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 383 
 
 "Did that hold him?" 
 
 "I ve got that fellow yet ; twice a month, regular, I 
 get his little old two dollars ; Lord, he swears by me 
 now. No, them that want to believe will believe, and 
 you can t pry em off with a crowbar. Ain t that 
 right?" 
 
 "I guess yes !" said Flora. "But what gets my 
 game is the widow that used to quarrel like cats and 
 dogs when her husband was alive and leaks on his 
 shoulder when he comes to her in the spirit ! They re 
 the limit! When a woman once gets it into her head 
 that the dear departed can take possession of a living 
 body, there ain t anything she won t stand for. My 
 brother had a lovely case once. It was a woman whose 
 husband hadn t passed out more than two months and 
 she was all broke up. Well, Harry got her to believe 
 that her husband could get control of his body and 
 talk to her. At first the woman wasn t quite sure, so 
 Harry, talking to her as her husband, claimed that he 
 himself was in a dead trance. Why/ he said, if you 
 should stick a pin into this medium s leg here, he 
 wouldn t feel it at all ! That was where he was fool 
 ish, for the woman said, Is that so? I guess I ll 
 just try it and see/ So Harry had to stand for it while 
 she jabbed a hat pin into him, but he was game and 
 didn t whimper. Of course that convinced the woman 
 that she was really communicating with her lawful 
 husband, and she begun to kiss and hug Harry to beat 
 the cars, she was so glad to get hubby back." 
 
 "Well, it s all in a day s work!" Vixley showed 
 his sharp yellow fangs in a grin. 
 
 "Oh, you have to make it pleasant for sitters, some 
 times," Flora yawned. 
 
384 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I guess it s no trouble for you," Vixley said, look 
 ing at her with admiration. 
 
 Flora yawned. "Well, I guess we earn our money, 
 what with skeptics and all. Now, if you have any of 
 these reporters come in you can get rid of them easy i 
 but we can t. We ve got to make good for the sake 
 of the rest of the crowd, unless they get so gay with 
 us that we can fire em out." 
 
 "That s right. I never bother with skeptics ; what s 
 the use? I don t want their money enough to risk 
 their jumpin up and gettin on to the game. No, sir! 
 When any of these slick chaps that look like newspaper 
 men or sports, come in, I just do a few lines and then 
 tell em conditions ain t satisfactory and let em go. 
 It ain t no use takin chances." 
 
 "You re in luck, Vixley, I tell you! I ve had no 
 end of trouble. Why, last week a couple o fresh guys 
 come in and scattered a package of tacks all over the 
 floor. When I come out in my stocking feet I thought 
 I d die, it hurt so. But I had to just grin and bear 
 it ! My feet are so sore yet I can hardly walk. I have 
 to sweep the carpet now, just as soon as it s dark, 
 every time, unless Lulu s there to watch out!" 
 
 Vixley laughed for almost five minutes. He had to 
 dry his eyes with a silk handkerchief. 
 
 "Oh, Professor," said Flora, "I almost forgot what 
 I came for. You know Harry s doing the Middle 
 West now with Mademoiselle Laflamme, the Inspi 
 rational Contralto, and he wanted me to ask you if 
 you had anything on Missouri and Iowa. Would 
 you mind lending him your test-book? You was out 
 there a few years ago, wasn t you?" 
 
 "Sure. I ll look and see if I can find it," and Vixley 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 385 
 
 arose and left the room. He was gone a few minutes, 
 and returned with a small, blue-covered note-book. 
 
 "Here s my test-book," he said, handing it over. 
 "It s rather behind the times. It was five years ago 
 that I was out there, but maybe Harry can get some 
 thing out of it." 
 
 "How did you get the dope, swapping?" 
 "Oh, no, I done it all myself, and it s O. K. I 
 went through the country first as a book-agent, and 
 I kep my eyes and ears open. I took a look or two 
 through the cemeteries, when I had time, and I read 
 up the local papers pretty good. Of course I wouldn t 
 go back till a year after I got a town planted, but 
 then it was easy graft." 
 
 "I suppose these abbreviations are all plain?" 
 "Yes, Harry will read that all right, he knows the 
 regular cipher. The name after the first one is the 
 party s control. I ve writ in a few messages that ll 
 work, and all the tests I know." 
 
 She opened the book and ran through the pages 
 which ran something like this: 
 
 Jefferson City, Mo. 
 
 Mrs. Henry Field "Mayflower" hb John died 
 
 pneumonia 1870 good wishes from little 
 
 Emily broken leg. 
 
 Cameron, Mo. 
 
 Mrs. Osborne "Pauline" hub James calls him Jimmie 
 da disappeared July 1897 found drowned in Red 
 River August Aunt Molly is happy Love to Belle 
 and Joe. 
 
 Flora put the book in her bag, and then reached 
 over and took up one of the slates. The one on top was 
 
386 THE HEART LINE 
 
 marked diagonally with two chalk-lines, and over this 
 was written in slate-pencil the following inscription : 
 
 801,101 
 
 Chapter 
 
 Marigold. 
 
 Beside this, was a thin sheet of slate. She placed it 
 over the marked surface. It fitted the frame exactly 
 and looked, at a cursory glance, precisely like the other 
 slates, its dark surface being clean. 
 
 She took up another slate. On this was written : 
 
 Unforeseen difficulties will prevent your 
 book being successful, if you do not take 
 care. Felicia. 
 
 The Professor grinned. "That s the dope for old 
 Payson," he explained. "He ought to be here any time, 
 now." He went to the window and looked out. 
 
 "What game are you going to work with him?" 
 Flora asked. 
 
 "Oh, only a few of the old stunts. He s so easy 
 that it won t be nothin but child s play. I got a lot 
 of the old-fashioned slab-slates for a starter, and I can 
 change em on him whenever I want. He won t in 
 sist on test conditions. Anyways, if he does, I got 
 my little spirit friend here handy." 
 
 He reached up his sleeve, and pulled down a thimble 
 attached to an elastic cord. To the end of the thimble 
 a small piece of slate-pencil was affixed. 
 
 "The only hard part about it is learnin to write 
 backwards and upside down," he commented, as he let 
 the instrument snap back out of sight. "Say, I wish t 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 387 
 
 I had a double- jointed leg like Slade! I tell you I d 
 give some sittings in this town that would paralyze 
 the Psychical Research !" 
 
 "But what s this stuff on the slates mean?" 
 
 "Oh, them is the answers I ve prepared. You see, 
 I happened to get hold of some questions he s goin 
 to ask, from a young fellow who goes to his house ; and 
 so havin inside information, it saves considerable 
 trouble. Funny thing this chap wants to marry the 
 daughter, who ll have money, I suppose, and he s 
 standin in with me on account o what I can do for 
 him through the old man." 
 
 "Why, I heard that Granthope was setting his traps 
 for her!" 
 
 Vixley scowled. "That s right, too. Frank s got 
 something up his sleeve that I can t fathom. He s 
 been trying to buy me off, in fact, but he ll never do it. 
 This fellow Cayley naturally has got it in for him, 
 Frank bein pretty thick with the girl. So I got to 
 play both ends and work the old man for Cayley and 
 against Frank. But I can do it all right. The old 
 man s a cinch!" 
 
 Flora walked up to him. "You re in luck," she 
 said. She permitted him to put his arm about her 
 small trim waist and looked at him good-naturedly. 
 "Say, Vixley, if he s as easy as that, why can t you fix 
 it for some good materializing? We could do all sorts 
 of things for him." 
 
 "I d thought of that. It might be a good idea later, 
 and we may talk business with you." 
 
 "Well, when you re ready, I ll do anything you say. 
 You know me." 
 
 At that moment the front door-bell rang. 
 
388 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Here he is now!" Vixley exclaimed. "Say, Flora, 
 you go out the back door through the kitchen, will 
 you? It won t do for him to see you here." 
 
 "Sure ! I ll spare him. The Doc says he s scared to 
 death of a pretty woman," and she disappeared down 
 the hall. 
 
 Professor Vixley went to the front door, welcomed 
 Mr. Payson with an oily smile, took his hat and coat 
 and then let him into a small chamber next to the 
 front room. There were two straight chairs here on 
 either side of a table which was draped with an 
 embroidered cloth. Behind was a high bookcase. 
 
 "Well, I m all ready for you, Mr. Payson," said the 
 medium. "We ll see what we can do. If we don t get 
 anything I won t charge you a cent. Have you ever 
 seen any slate-writin done before?" 
 
 "No, I haven t," said Mr. Payson, "but I ve heard 
 a good deal about it." 
 
 "It s a very interestin phenomena. Now, before we 
 begin, p raps you d like to examine this table ; it s been 
 examined so often, that it s pretty well used to it by 
 this time, but I want to have you satisfied that there s 
 no possibility of trickery or deceit." 
 
 As he spoke, he took off the cover, and turned the 
 table upside down. Mr. Payson looked it over gravely 
 and knocked on the top to see if it were hollow. The 
 investigation finished, Professor Vixley said : 
 
 "May I ask who recommended you to me ?" 
 
 "Madam Spoil I suppose you know her." 
 
 "Oh, yes, and I admire her, too. Madam Spoil is a 
 wonderful woman. I don t know how this community 
 could get on without her. She s brought more satis 
 faction to them desirin communication with their dear 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 389 
 
 departed than all the rest of us mediums put together. 
 She s doin a great work, Mr. Payson. But she has 
 more success with what you might call affairs of the 
 heart, while I find my control prefers generally to 
 help out in the way of business. We re all specialists, 
 nowadays, you know." 
 
 "I should think that the spirits could help in one way 
 as well as another." 
 
 "Now would you?" said Vixley, fixing the old man 
 with his glittering eyes. "Spirits ain t so much differ 
 ent from people on this side. Some o them is in 
 terested in one thing, and some in another, same as 
 we are. Some is nearer what I might call the material 
 plane and some has progressed so they don t take 
 much interest in earthly affairs." 
 
 "It seems to me that I d always have an interest in 
 my friends," said Mr. Payson. 
 
 "Does it?" Vixley replied. "Where was you 
 raised?" 
 
 "In Vermont. I lived there till I was ten years 
 old." 
 
 "Well, are you much interested in the kids you knew 
 when you went to school there?" 
 
 "Perhaps not." 
 
 "Well, then, that s the way it is with spirits who 
 have got progression. Their life on earth seems like 
 childhood s days to them. Lord, they have their own 
 business to attend to. I expect it keeps em pretty 
 busy." 
 
 "Well, I don t know." Mr. Payson shook his head 
 and seated himself. "It s all very strange and mysteri 
 ous. But I m only an investigator, and what I want 
 is the truth, no matter what it may be." 
 
390 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "That s the right frame o mind to come in," said 
 Vixley; "you treat me right and I ll treat you right. 
 Have a cigar?" He took one from his pocket and 
 put it unlighted into his mouth, offering another to 
 Mr. Payson. 
 
 "No, thanks, I don t smoke." 
 
 "Well, if you don t mind, I will. It s a bad habit, 
 I m told, but it sorts o helps me when I m nervous." 
 
 Mr. Payson placed the tips of his ringers together, 
 palm to palm, and gestured with them. "Now, Pro 
 fessor Vixley, seeing that I know nothing about you, 
 would you mind letting me see what you can do first 
 in the way of a test, before we go to the main object 
 of my visit?" 
 
 "Why, certainly, though I can t promise to do any 
 thing conclusive the first time. I want you to feel at 
 liberty to try me in any way you wish." 
 
 "Well, I ve got three questions I d like to have you 
 answer. I happen to know that you couldn t possibly 
 know what they are. If you can answer them, I ll be 
 satisfied that you can help me." 
 
 "I ll try," said Vixley modestly. "It all depends 
 upon my guides, and we can t tell till we begin." He 
 arose, walked to the mantel and brought back a small 
 pad of paper. 
 
 "Here s what I generally use. This paper is mag 
 netized in order to make it easier. Examine it all you 
 please you won t find no carbon transfer paper nor 
 nothin like that." 
 
 "Why can t I use my own paper?" 
 
 "I ain t got no more idea than you have," the 
 medium confessed candidly. "Why can t a photog 
 rapher take a picture on common glass? I don t 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 391 
 
 know. I ain t a photographer. All I do know is, that 
 we can get results from this paper that my control 
 has magnetized, when we can t from yours. The spirits 
 may be able to explain it I can t. Now you write 
 down the name of your control and your three ques 
 tions, one on each piece and fold it over twice. Then 
 I ll pull down the shades and see what I can do." 
 
 Mr. Payson brought his hand down on the table 
 querulously. "That s another thing I don t like," he 
 said. "Why can t spirits work in the light as well as in 
 the dark, I d like to know? It looks suspicious to me." 
 
 Vixley took the cigar from his teeth and sat down 
 patiently before his dupe. He rapped with his fore 
 finger upon the table. "See here, it s this way, 
 Mr. Payson; every science has its own condition 
 that has got to be fulfilled before any experiment can 
 be a success, hasn t it? You can t go against nature. 
 If you want an electric light or telephone, you have to 
 run wires, don t you ? Why? I don t know I m not 
 an electrician. If you want to develop a photograph, 
 you have to do it in the dark. Why ? I don t know 
 go ask a photographer. If you want to make a seed 
 grow, you put it down into the dirt and water it. 
 Why ? I don t know. Nobody knows. It s one o the 
 mysteries o life. In the same way, if you want to get 
 results in spiritualism, you have to submit to the con 
 ditions that are imposed by my guide. Why? I 
 don t know. And what s more, I don t care. If I can 
 get the results, it makes no difference to me how they 
 come. All I do know is that fifty years experience 
 has shown us mediums the proper conditions necessary 
 for the physical manifestation of phenomena. Full 
 daylight is all right for psychic influences, but it don t 
 
392 THE HEART LINE 
 
 do for slate-writin . The question is whether you 
 want to accept the conditions I give you, or do you 
 expect the spirits to work in a way that s impossible ?" 
 
 Mr. Payson, overcome with this profound logic, sub 
 mitted without further protest to having the shades 
 drawn down. The Professor reseated himself and 
 waited till the three slips were written and folded ac 
 cording to direction. In his own lap were three blank 
 slips folded in exactly the same manner. 
 
 Vixley now pressed his brow and smoothed it with 
 both hands. "Some fakirs will palm a blank slip and 
 exchange it for your written one, but you see I ain t 
 got nothin in my hands," he said, showing them empty. 
 Even as he spoke he dropped his hands into his lap, 
 and secreted one of his folded slips in his palm. Then 
 he reached for one of Payson s written questions and 
 seemed to place it on the old man s forehead, but 
 quick as was the motion, he had made the substitution. 
 
 "You hold this paper there while I go and get the 
 slates. And keep your mind on the question as hard 
 as you can." 
 
 He returned in a moment, having 1 glanced mean 
 while at Mr. Payson s first question, while he was 
 outside, bringing back a dozen or more slates which 
 he put on the book-shelf. He took off the top one 
 and handed it to Mr. Payson. 
 
 "Just look at it, examine it all you want to, and 
 then take this wet towel, wash it off clean and dry it 
 with the other end, please." 
 
 As the old man did so, the Professor went to the 
 pile and took down the next slate. This was the first 
 one which Flora had read, the writing being now con 
 cealed by the thin slab which fitted neatly into the 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 393 
 
 frame. As Mr. Payson handed back the first slate, 
 Professor Vixley, looking him intently in the eye, said : 
 
 "Now, can you tell me about how many years ago 
 it was that your control passed out? Was it five 
 years, twenty, or how long?" 
 
 The question was accurately timed so as to be put 
 just as Mr. Payson extended his hand. Vixley s eyes 
 held the old man s in a direct gaze. During this 
 psychological moment while his victim was intently 
 trying to answer the question, the Professor, with a 
 facile movement, put the two slates together and 
 handed back the same one that had been washed. 
 
 "I should say it would be nearly thirty years 
 twenty-seven." 
 
 "All right," said Vixley. "Now, take this slate 
 and wash it off like you did the other." The old man 
 did so without noticing that it was the same one he had 
 had before. 
 
 Vixley took back the slate when he had finished, and, 
 with a piece of chalk, drew diagonal lines from corner 
 to corner upon each of the faces of both slates. 
 
 "That will show you that the writin hasn t been 
 prepared beforehand, for you ll see that the pencil will 
 write through the chalk, showin it s been done after I 
 made these lines." 
 
 As he held the two slates together in his hand, the 
 false sheet from the upper one fell into the frame of 
 the lower. He laid the two upon the table and took 
 off the top one. The lower surface upon which the 
 writing was now exposed he took care to hold so that 
 it could not be seen. Next, he took the slip of paper 
 which Mr. Payson had been holding, substituted for it 
 with a deft motion the written question which he had 
 
394 THE HEART LINE 
 
 previously palmed, and, throwing the blank into his 
 lap, dropped the real one, with a small fragment of 
 slate-pencil, upon the slate. He put the written slate 
 on top of the other, writing down, then asked the old 
 man to hold it in position, laying his own fingers upon 
 it as well. A faint scratching was heard. It was too 
 dark for the old man to notice the slight motions of 
 Vixley s finger-nail upon the surface. After a moment 
 he removed the top slate and showed the writing, then 
 unfolded the slip. 
 
 Mr. Payson looked at the inscription with curiosity 
 and surprise. "Marvelous!" he exclaimed. "Why, 
 it s incredible. I didn t know it could be done as 
 simply as that. Why, all three of my questions are 
 answered and they haven t left my possession." 
 
 "You seem to have a very strong control. Are the 
 answers correct?" 
 
 "I ll soon find out," said Mr. Payson, "if you ll 
 raise the shades while I look at this book." He cut 
 the strings of a package he had brought into the room, 
 showed his copy of the Astrology of the New Testa 
 ment and turned to page one hundred. 
 
 "Here it is, Chapter IX. It s most extraordinary, 
 indeed ! Now for the number of my watch. Do you 
 know, I didn t even know these answers myself. That 
 would tend to prove it s not mere telepathy, wouldn t 
 
 it?" 
 
 He took out his watch and opened the back covers. 
 Upon the frame were engraved the figures "801,101." 
 
 "That s correct, too. Now for the last one have 
 you a telephone?" 
 
 "Right down at the end of the hall." 
 
 "If you ll excuse me a moment I ll ring up a friend 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 395 
 
 of mine who will know whether this is the right name 
 or not." 
 
 In five minutes he returned with an expression of 
 wonder upon his face. "I wanted to make sure that 
 this couldn t be got from my mind, so I asked a friend 
 of mine to select a name for me. It seems that Mari 
 gold was the name. This is a most wonderful and 
 convincing test, Mr. Vixley; I must say that I m 
 amazed." 
 
 The Professor took his praise modestly. "Oh, I 
 hope to do much better for you than this after a while, 
 Mr. Payson. The main point is, that now we can get 
 to work in such a way as to help you practically, with 
 out wastin your time on mere experiments. These 
 test conditions is very apt to deteriorate mediumship 
 and I don t like to do no more of it than is absolutely 
 necessary to convince you of the genuineness of my 
 manifestations. 
 
 "Now," he added, "before we draw down the shades 
 again, you write down some important question you 
 want answered and we ll get down to business." 
 
 When Mr. Payson had finished writing, the medium, 
 taking a slip of paper from his vest pocket unobserved, 
 held it under the table, saying : 
 
 "Now you fold it twice, each time in half." As 
 Payson did so, Vixley folded his own slip in a similar 
 manner and held it palmed in his left hand. After 
 drawing the shades, he said: "Now, then, will you 
 please hold that paper to your forehead? Not like 
 that here, let me show you." 
 
 He took the slip from Mr. Payson and dexterously 
 substituting for it his own duplicate, held it to his own 
 forehead. "This way, so that it will be in plain sight 
 
396 THE HEART LINE 
 
 all the time." He gave the blank slip to his sitter, who 
 obeyed the directions. 
 
 "I think we ll do better if there s less light," Vixley 
 said, as he arose to draw the shades. "You keep hold 
 of that paper. I don t want it to go out of your 
 possession for a moment. You see I couldn t read it 
 even if I had it, it s so dark. But if you ll excuse me, 
 I ll light this cigar; I haven t had a smoke all day." 
 
 As he spoke, he went to the bookcase, and standing, 
 facing Mr. Pay son, he took a match from a box on the 
 top and lighted the cigar which was between his teeth. 
 His left hand, which had already secretly unfolded the 
 ballot, covered the paper. He put it up with a natural 
 gesture to keep the match from being blown out as he 
 lighted his cigar. The operation took only a few 
 seconds, but in that time, illuminated by the match, he 
 was able to read the words: "Will my book be a suc 
 cess?" He dropped his hand, refolded the ballot with 
 his fingers and held it hidden. Then he took two slates 
 from the pile. 
 
 There are many well-known ways of slate-writing, 
 and the sleight-of-hand necessary in obtaining the bal 
 lots and writing the answers is simple compared with 
 the sort of psychological juggling in which the me 
 dium must be an adept. Professor Vixley, however, 
 had no need of any special craft with the old man. 
 Mr. Payson was by no means a skilled observer, and, 
 credulous and desirous of a marvel, was easily hood 
 winked by Vixley s talk. The simplest methods suf 
 ficed, and he worked with increasing confidence, pre 
 paring his sitter s mind, till it would be possible for the 
 medium merely to sit at the table and write openly 
 under the supposititious influence of his control. 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 397 
 
 The second experiment terminated with the appear 
 ance of the message that Flora Flint had read in the 
 front room, the message signed "Felicia." 
 
 Mr. Payson read the communication with a frown. 
 "That s bad," he said, "I m very sorry to find that this 
 answer isn t favorable." 
 
 "What s the matter?" the Professor asked sympa 
 thetically. 
 
 "Well, you see, I may as well tell you that I m 
 writing a book, Professor," said Mr. Payson, wiping 
 his spectacles, "and, of course, I am anxious that it 
 should be a success. It seems from this that there is 
 likely to be some trouble about it I don t quite under 
 stand how." 
 
 Vixley tipped back in his chair with his hands in his 
 pockets. "I thought you looked like an intellectual- 
 minded man. O course, it wan t my place to ask 
 no questions, but when you come in I sized you up 
 as a party who wan t entirely devoted to a pure 
 business life. So you ve written a book, eh? Well, 
 I m sure my control could help you. I ll ask him, and 
 see what s to be done. But for that, I think we ll 
 be more liable to be successful at automatic writin 
 than by independent slate-writin . It s more quicker 
 and satisfactory all round." 
 
 "How do you suppose the spirits can help?" said Mr. 
 Payson. 
 
 "Why," said Vixley, "all sorts o ways. It s like this : 
 I don t know nothing about your book, but I do know 
 what s happened before. Take Gibbon s Decline and 
 Fall of the Roman Empire, for instance. He pre 
 dicted that there wouldn t never be no more wars 
 he claimed we d outlived the possibility of it, and 
 
393 THE HEART LINE 
 
 everything would be settled peaceably. What hap 
 pened? Why, Napoleon arose inside o fifty years 
 and they was wars like never had been seen on earth. 
 Now, if Gibbon had only been able to put himself 
 in communication with the spirit intelligence, he 
 wouldn t have made that mistake the spirits would 
 have told him what was goin to happen. Look at 
 Voltaire! He went on record by sayin that in fifty 
 years they wouldn t be no more churches. Now he s 
 a ridicule and a by-word amongst Christian people. 
 If he d only consulted the spirit-plane he wouldn t have 
 made a fool of hisself. But, o course, spiritualism 
 wan t heard of then no more than Voltaire s heard 
 of now. Now let s say, for example, you was writin 
 a book on evolution ten years ago, thoroughly believin* 
 in Darwin s theory o the origin of species. Up to that 
 time nobody believed that a new specie had been 
 evolved since man. But look at this here Burbank up 
 to Santa Rosa he has gone to work and produced 
 some absolutely new species, and what s more, I 
 predicted his success in this very room ten years ago. 
 If you d written on evolution then, you might have 
 taken advantage o 9 what I could have gave you. 
 Now, for all I know, some man may come along and 
 breed two different animals together, p raps through 
 vivisection or what not, and develop a bran new kind 
 of specie in the animal world. Heart disease and 
 cancer and consumption are supposed by modern 
 science to be incurable, but I wouldn t venture to 
 write that down in a book till I had taken the means 
 at my disposal o findin out whether they was or 
 wasn t." 
 
 He arose and let up the window-shades; the level 
 
THE BLOODSUCKER 399 
 
 rays of the sunshine illuminated his figure and bur 
 nished his purpling coat. He shook his finger at Mr. 
 Payson, who was listening open-mouthed, impressed 
 with the glib argument. 
 
 "Now, my control is Theodore Parker. You ve 
 heard of him p raps you knew him. You wouldn t 
 hesitate to ask his advice if he was still on the flesh 
 plane, for he was a brainy man; how much more, 
 now he s passed out and gone beyond, into a fuller 
 development and comprehension of the universe! I 
 don t know what your subject is, but whatever it is, 
 he can help and he will help. I m sure o that. It s 
 for you to say whether you ll avail yourself of his 
 guidance or not. I can give you all the tests you 
 want, but I tell you, you re only wastin your time, 
 while you might be in daily communication with one 
 of the grandest minds this country and this century 
 has produced. I can get into communication with him 
 and give you his messages by means of automatic 
 writin , or I can develop you so s you can do it 
 yourself." 
 
 Professor Vixley s victim had ceased to struggle, 
 and, caught inextricably in the web so artfully woven, 
 gazed, fascinated, into the eyes of the sp?der 
 was preparing to suck his golden blood. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE FORE-HONEYMOON 
 
 Outward, across the narrow, mile-long mole, the 
 Oakland Local, a train of twelve coaches, swept on 
 from block to block, beckoned by semaphores, till 
 it threw itself with a roar into the great train-shed 
 upon the Oakland pier. The locomotive stopped, 
 throbbing and panting rhythmically, spouting a cloud 
 of steam that eddied among the iron trusses of the 
 roof. The air-brakes settled back with a long, relieved 
 hiss. The cars emptied streams of passengers; the 
 ferry-station became as populous and busy as a dis 
 turbed ant-hill. Up the broad stairs and into the huge 
 waiting-room the commuters poured, there to await 
 the boat. 
 
 It was half-past nine in the morning. The earlier 
 trains, laden with clerks and stenographers and the 
 masses of early workers, had already relieved the 
 traffic across the bay. The present contingent con 
 sisted chiefly of the more well-to-do business men, 
 ladies bent on shopping in the city, and a scattering of 
 sorts. Some clustered in a dense group by the door 
 of the gangway, the better to rush on board and 
 capture the favorite seats ; the rest took to the settees 
 and unjfolded their morning papers, conversed, or 
 watched the gathering throng. 
 
 The Overland from Chicago was already in, two 
 hours late, and it had contributed to the assembly its 
 delegation of dusty, tired tourists, laden with baggage, 
 
 400 
 

 
 It was a poor tired Majesty Page 403 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 401 
 
 commercial travelers, curious and bold, with a few 
 emigrants in outlandish costumes, prolific in children 
 and impedimenta. Another roar, and the Alameda 
 Local thundered into the shed and emptied its lesser 
 load. The Berkeley train had arrived also, and the 
 waiting-room was now well filled. 
 
 Through the glazed front of the hall the steamer 
 Piedmont came into view, entering the slip. It slid 
 in quietly and was deftly tied up. The gang-plank 
 was lowered and its passengers disembarked, filing 
 through a passageway separated from the waiting 
 throng by a fence. Then the heavy door slipped up 
 ward, the crowd made for the entrance and passed 
 on board the boat. As each party stepped off the 
 gang-plank some one would say, "Do you want to sit 
 outside or inside?" The continual repetition of this 
 question kept the after part of the deck echoing with 
 the murmur. 
 
 Clytie Payson, finding all the best outside seats 
 occupied, went into the great open cabin and sat 
 down. The saloon soon filled. In a moment there 
 was the creaking of the gang-plank drawbridge, a 
 deep, hoarse whistle overhead, the jangle of a bell in 
 the engine room, and the boat started, gathered way, 
 and shot out into the bay. An Italian band started 
 playing. 
 
 It was not long before her eyes, roving from one 
 to another passenger, rested upon a couple across the 
 way. Both looked jaded and distrait. They talked 
 but little. The lady was crisp and fresh and glossy, 
 in her blue serge suit and smart hat; her form was 
 molded almost sumptuously but there were soft, 
 violet circles beneath her roaming eyes. She leaned 
 
402 THE HEART LINE 
 
 back in her seat ; her attitude had lost, in its 
 California tendency to abandon, an imperceptible 
 something of that erect, well-held poise that such cor 
 set-modeled, white-gloved creatures of fashion usually 
 maintain. Clytie recognized her; it was Mrs. Page. 
 
 The young man Clytie did not know. He was a 
 dapper, immaculate, pink-cheeked person, who leaned 
 slightly nearer his companion than custom sanctions 
 when he spoke an occasional playful word to her. In 
 his gestures he often touched her arm, where, for a 
 second his gloved hand seemed to linger affectionately. 
 Mrs. Page gave him in return a flashing, ardent smile, 
 then her eyes wandered listlessly. 
 
 Before Mrs. Page had a chance to notice her, Clytie 
 arose and walked forward. Just outside the door she 
 stopped upon the wind-swept deck for a moment to 
 look about her. Above Goat Island, melting into the 
 perfect bow of its profile, lay the crest of Tamalpais. 
 The mountains surrounding the bay of San Francisco 
 were wild and terrible, with naked brown slopes void 
 of trees or grass. To the northwest they came down 
 to the very edge of the water, tumbling precipitately, 
 seamed with gulleys, forming the wall of the Golden 
 Gate. Southward was smoke and haze; forward the 
 peninsula loomed through murk. The whole aspect 
 of the harbor was barren, chill, desolate. One felt 
 that one was thousands of miles from civilization 
 in a land unique, grim, isolate, sufficient unto itself, 
 shut off by sea and mountain from the great world. 
 Yet it had its own strange beauty, and that charm 
 which, once felt, endures for ever, the immortal lure 
 of bigness, wideness, freedom of air and sky and 
 water. 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 403 
 
 Clytie stood, holding her hat against the nimble 
 breeze for a while, gazing at a flock of gulls that 
 sailed alongside the boat, circling and screaming, then 
 she turned and moved to the right and walked aft. 
 
 There was a young woman sitting in an angle of 
 the seats, by the paddle-box. Her arm was resting on 
 the rail and she was gazing down at the swirling rush 
 of water. From her chic shepherd s plaid frock, so 
 cunningly trimmed with red, so perfectly moulding 
 her svelte form, it should have been Fancy Gray, 
 Queen of Piedra Pinta. But it was a poor, tired 
 Majesty, whose face was filled with infinite longing, 
 whose traitor mouth was lax, whose head, bent side- 
 wise, seemed too heavy to be held in its whilom spirited 
 pose. She was off her guard; she had dropped the 
 mask she was learning so painfully to bear. 
 
 Clytie stepped in front of her. Fancy suddenly 
 looked up. There was a moment when her face was 
 like that of a child awakened from sleep, then, in a 
 flash Fancy was alive again. First, confusion, then 
 a look of pain, lastly an expectant, almost a suspicious 
 expression passed over her face. 
 
 "Why, Miss Payson !" Fancy sat erect, and, by her 
 tone, was immediately upon the defensive, waiting to 
 find out what her welcome might be. "Won t you 
 sit down?" 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Gray!" Clytie s voice was 
 low and sympathetic. 
 
 Fancy took the proffered hand, grasped it for a 
 brief moment and let it drop. Then she waited for 
 Clytie to give her her cue. The eyes of the two 
 women, having met, lingered without conflict. The 
 serenity in Clytie s face melted Fancy s into a smile. 
 
404 THE HEART LINE 
 
 A faint glow of pink began to creep up Clytie s neck 
 and mantle her cheek. She took a seat. 
 
 "I m so glad I found you," she began. "I had a 
 queer feeling that I should meet some one pleasant, 
 though I didn t know who it would be." 
 
 What was it that reassured Fancy? No man could 
 have told. But that whatever fears she had entertained 
 were dispelled was evident by the way her face 
 softened, by the way her dimples came, by the way a 
 saucy, amiable sprite looked from her eyes. 
 
 "I m sorry I m just out of blushes," she said, rally 
 ing swiftly, "but I m as delighted as if I had as pretty 
 a one as yours. Did you really want to see me ?" 
 
 "I ve been wanting to see you for some time." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I ve been thinking about you." 
 
 "Think of your wasting your time on me ! Why, 
 any one with your brains could think me to a finish in 
 five minutes." 
 
 "I wanted to tell you something." 
 
 "I hope it s something sacred," said Fancy with a 
 twinkle in her eyes. "I love to have people tell me 
 their most sacred thoughts." She smiled like a 
 spoiled child. 
 
 This was too much for Clytie, who laughed aloud. 
 But she persisted. "I hope you won t think I m try- 
 Ing to patronize you " 
 
 "You look awfully pretty when you re patronizing; 
 I don t mind it a bit." 
 
 "I m afraid it s no use, you re incorrigible." 
 
 "That s a dandy word. I never thought of that 
 May I use it?" 
 
 "Will you be serious?" 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 405 
 
 "You mustn t mind me," Fancy said. "I never could 
 do that running throb in my voice. I ve lost lots of 
 things by not being able to cry to order. But I ll 
 listen. What is it?" 
 
 "I know you ve left Mr. Granthope s office." 
 
 "Oh, yes. I got tired of the routine there. It s 
 awful to sit and watch women who come to hear 
 themselves talked about. It got on my nerves. So I 
 told Frank I d have to quit or tell them the straight 
 truth about themselves." 
 
 Clytie looked at her curiously for a moment. Fancy 
 turned away from her glance. Clytie went on: "I 
 wanted to see if I couldn t get you a position perhaps 
 with my father." 
 
 "Thank you, but I guess not." Fancy cast her eyes 
 down. "I don t care to go to work just yet I m 
 going to drift a while it s awfully kind of you, 
 though." 
 
 "Can t you come and stay with me a while? I 
 thought I might teach you bookbinding and we could 
 work together." Clytie herself was getting somewhat 
 embarrassed. 
 
 Fancy shook her head. "Sometime I ll come and 
 see you but not now." 
 
 , "Well, since Mr. Granthope has given up his busi 
 ness" 
 
 Fancy changed in an instant; her frivolous manner 
 fell off. She stared at Clytie in surprise. 
 
 "Oh ! I didn t know that. Has he ?" 
 
 "Yes, he stopped last week." 
 
 Fancy s gaze drifted off to seaward. She was 
 righting something mentally. She turned her head 
 away also. Finally she said, "I think I understand." 
 
406 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "I think not, quite," Clytie answered softly. 
 
 Fancy s eyes flashed back at her, brimming. "He 
 gave it up on account of you, Miss Payson, I m sure." 
 
 "He did, in a way, but it was not altogether my 
 doing." 
 
 "I know!" Fancy leaned her head on her hand 
 wearily. "You did for him what I never could do." 
 
 "I m glad you wanted it." Clytie touched Fancy s 
 hand, as it lay limp in her lap. 
 
 Instead of taking it, Fancy moved hers gently away. 
 Then she roused herself. "Oh, I am glad! I m so 
 glad, Miss Payson. He was too good for that I al 
 ways told him so. But you are the only woman who 
 could have done that for him!" 
 
 "Indeed, you mustn t think that I did it. He did 
 it for himself." 
 
 Fancy smiled wistfully. "I know Frank Grant- 
 hope. And I know the sort of women he knew. I 
 was one of them. And I could do nothing nothing 
 to help him !" 
 
 "Ah, I don t believe it ! You have helped him, I m 
 sure. I know by the way you speak now." 
 
 "Oh, I know what you think!" Fancy retorted 
 impetuously. "You think that I am that I was in 
 iove with him. That s not true, Miss Payson, really 
 it isn t. I never was. We were good friends, that s 
 all. I m not suffering from a broken heart or .pining 
 away, or anything like that. No secret sorrow for 
 mine! But what s the use of trying to explain! It 
 never does any good. I m glad he s found a woman 
 who s square and who s a thoroughbred like you! 
 Why, Miss Payson, you can make him! I saw that 
 long ago !" 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 407 
 
 She spoke in a hurried frenzy of denial. She 
 seemed to feel the inadequacy of it in Clytie s eyes, 
 however, and nerved herself again. 
 
 "You don t believe it, Miss Payson, but it s true! 
 I give you my word that he s perfectly free. Of 
 course, there was a sort of flirtation at first, there 
 always is, you know, but I wasn t in earnest at all! 
 I m too afraid of Frank I m not in his class. And 
 I know he s in love with you I saw it from the first." 
 
 "How could he ever help loving such a frank, 
 courageous, irresistible girl as you !" Clytie wondered. 
 
 "Miss Payson," Fancy said, avoiding her eyes, 
 "there s a man I m simply crazy about I wish I 
 could tell you more, but I can t explain. I never ex 
 plain. But you can be sure that there s nothing doing 
 with Frank, at any rate. I didn t intend to breathe 
 it to a soul, but I know I can trust you I m really 
 she drew a quick breath and her eyelids fluttered 
 "I m engaged, Miss Payson!" 
 
 Clytie was wearing, that day, a little gold chain 
 from which hung a tiny swastika. As she listened, 
 she unfastened it and took it off and threw it about 
 Fancy s neck. Fancy stopped in surprise. 
 
 "Won t you let me give you this?" Clytie said 
 eagerly. "Don t ask me why I want you to have it 
 and keep it for my sake. You know I have more 
 jewelry than I can wear, but I have always been very 
 fond of this little chain. It belonged to my mother." 
 
 Fancy s eyes filled suddenly and her lips parted. 
 Her hand flew up to caress the chain affectionately. 
 Then she cast down her eyes and a timid smile 
 trembled on her lips. 
 
 "I accept!" said Fancy Gray. 
 
4 o8 THE HEART LINE 
 
 As she looked off at the water she lifted the 
 chain softly to her lips and kissed it. Then, loosening 
 the collar of her waist, she allowed the chain to drop 
 inside to hang touching her warm pink breast. 
 
 Then slowly she turned her head and showed Clytie 
 a new expression, childlike, demure, embarrassed. 
 Her eyes, fluttering, went from Clytie s eyes to Clytie s 
 hair, to her slender, gracile hands. Then, with a 
 wistful emphasis, she said : 
 
 "Miss Payson, do you think I m pretty?" 
 
 There was no need, this time, for her to define 
 the adjective. 
 
 "Do you want me to tell you exactly?" Clytie an 
 swered. "I never saw, a woman yet to whom I 
 couldn t tell her best points better than she could her 
 self." 
 
 Fancy nestled a little nearer, warming herself at 
 Clytie s smile. "I guess I can stand it. I ll try to be 
 brave," she said. 
 
 Clytie looked her over critically. 
 
 "First, I d say that your ears are the most deli- 
 ciously shaped, cream-white, and the lobes are pure 
 pink with a dab of carmine laid on as if with a brush. 
 The hair behind them has curls like little claws clutch 
 ing at your neck and I don t blame them! Your 
 cheeks look as if a rose-leaf had just been pressed 
 against them." 
 
 "I believe I m going to get the truth at last," Fancy 
 murmured. "Oh, it takes a woman, don t it!" In 
 spite of this jaunty speech the pink had grown to 
 scarlet in her cheeks, and she turned her eyes away in 
 a delighted, flattered embarrassment. 
 
 "Then, your mouth has a charming little dent at each 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 409 
 
 corner, and your lips curve in a perfect bow, and 
 the nick above is just deep and strong enough for a 
 baby to want to put his little finger into. Your nose 
 is fine and straight and delicate I can see the light 
 through the bridge of it, the skin is so transparent 
 like mother-o -pearl. Your eyes are clear and child 
 like and the rarest, deepest, pellucid brown. There s 
 a moist purple shadow above them, and a warmer 
 brown tone below. Your lids crinkle and narrow your 
 eyes like a kitten s. Your hands are as dewy-delicate 
 as flowers white above, faint rose in the palm, 
 deepening almost to strawberry in the finger-tips." 
 
 Fancy had laid her head on her arm, upon the rail 
 ing. When she at last lifted her eyes the tears trickled 
 comically down her cheeks. "That s the first time a 
 woman ever feazed me !" she sai d, snuffing, and feeling 
 for her handkerchief. "I ll have to appoint you 
 Court Flatterer !" She explained the sovereignty that 
 she enjoyed amongst the Pintos. Clytie, amused, ac 
 cepted the distinction conferred upon her. 
 
 Their talk ran on till the boat passed under the lee 
 of Goat Island. It rose, a bare, bleak slope of hill 
 side on the starboard side. Fancy watched the waters 
 curdling below. 
 
 "Ugh!" she exclaimed. "It looks cold, don t it! 
 I d hate to be down there ; it s so wet. Isn t it funny 
 that suicides always jump overboard right opposite 
 Goat Island? There seems to be some fascination 
 about this place. And the bodies are never found. 
 I suppose they drift out through the Gate. The tide 
 runs awfully strong here, they say." 
 
 She removed her gaze with an effort, adding, "I 
 hate to think of it ! Let s come forward." 
 
4 io THE HEART LINE 
 
 They rose and went to the space of deck below 
 the pilot-house and stood by the rail. Already the 
 tourists and emigrants were there, eager for a first 
 glimpse of the city. San Francisco stretched before 
 them, a long, pearl-gray peninsula, its profile undu 
 lating in a continuous series of hills. Along the water 
 front was a melee of shipping; behind, the houses 
 rose to the heaving, irregular sky-line where the blue 
 was deep and cloudless. The streets showed as 
 gashes, blocking the town off into parallel divisions. 
 A few tall towers broke the monotony of the huddled, 
 colorless buildings. They passed a ferry-boat bound 
 for Oakland, and a foreign man-of-war lying at 
 anchor, nosed by busy launches. The Piedmont rang 
 down to half-speed, then the vibrations of the paddle 
 wheels stopped as she shot into the slip. There was a 
 surge of back-water, a rattling of chains and ratchets, 
 the cables were fastened and the apron lowered. 
 The crowd surged forward and poured off the boat. 
 At the front of the Ferry Building Fancy stopped, 
 offering her hand. 
 
 "Good-by," she said genially. "You ve done me 
 more good than a Picon punch. I m going home to 
 wear my looking-glass out." 
 
 "You ll never see half I do," Clytie replied, shaking 
 her head. 
 
 "That s because I haven t got such fine eyes," coun 
 tered Fancy. 
 
 "I think mine are never so pretty as when they 
 have a little image of you in them." 
 
 Fancy gave up the duel. "Well, I guess I d better 
 go quick before you raise that ! You play nothing but 
 blue chips, and I can t keep up !" 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 411 
 
 Clytie walked up Market Street alone. She turned 
 into Geary Street at the group of tall newspaper 
 buildings by Lotta s fountain, and in ten minutes was 
 knocking at Granthope s office door. There being no 
 response she descended the stairs, crossed the street 
 and went into the square to wait for him upon a bench 
 beside the soldiers monument. 
 
 There were two young women at the other end 
 of the seat. One, scarcely more than a girl, was 
 pretty, in a demure, timid way; she was freckled and 
 tanned, her clothes were simple and neat. The other 
 was of a coarser grain, full-lipped, large-handed, 
 painted and powdered, with hard eyes and large fea 
 tures. She wore several cheap rings, and her finery 
 made her soiled and wrinkled garments look still more 
 vulgar. Clytie gave the two a glance and took no 
 further interest in them until she caught the mention 
 of Granthope s name. 
 
 She turned, astonished, to see the younger woman 
 looking seriously at the other. There was a charming 
 earnestness in her face, and, though her lower lip 
 drooped tremulously, it was not weak; nor was her 
 chin, nor her nose, nor the gracefully reliant poise 
 of her head. 
 
 "You ought to go see him, Kate !" she was saying. 
 "I tell you he s a wonder! Why, if I hadn t gone 
 there I don t know where I d be now. I know one 
 thing, I wouldn t be married. Why, when Bill was out 
 in the Philippines and didn t write, I thought I d lay 
 down and die ! I waited about two months, and then 
 I took five dollars I saved up for one of them automo 
 bile coats they was all wearing, and I went to see 
 Granthope. What d you think? he wouldn t take a 
 
412 THE HEART LINE 
 
 cent off me ! That s the kind of a man Granthope is ! 
 He said it would be all right and Bill would come 
 back and marry me. But I tell you, I had to do most 
 of the courting !" 
 
 "You did, did you? Do you mean to say you 
 run after a man like that without any nose ? I never 
 see such a face in my life! If he d only wear a 
 patch or something it wouldn t be so bad," commented 
 her companion. 
 
 "Bill wouldn t do it; he s too proud. Nobody s 
 ashamed of having only one leg or one arm, why 
 should they be of having a nose gone? * 
 
 "What did you think when you first see him, 
 though? Wan t it disgusting, kind of?" her com 
 panion asked, making a sour face. 
 
 "Why, I was so proud of him that I didn t see 
 anything but a man who loved me and who had 
 fought for his country ! But it was some time before 
 I did see him, though. He did his best not to let me." 
 
 "How did you ever find him?" 
 
 "Why, finally Mr. Granthope located Bill down at 
 Santa Barbara. He was working as a gardener on a 
 place a little ways out of town. Bill s captain give me 
 the money to get down there. I guess I cried pretty 
 near all the way, thinking of Bill hiding out like a 
 yellow dog without any friends. Finally I found the 
 place. Bill was living up in a room over the stable." 
 . She paused. "Go on!" said her companion. The 
 woman s voice had changed somewhat. There was 
 something more than curiosity in its tone. Fleurette 
 was looking down, now, fingering her jacket. Sud 
 denly she began to breathe heavily. 
 
 "Bill had a little dog named Dot. A fox terrier, it 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 413 
 
 was. Bill says he thought it was the only living 
 thing that didn t despise him on account of his looks. 
 He was awful fond of Dot. So was I, you bet. 
 Dot s dead, now." She put a handkerchief to her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Well, I was dead tired. I d walked all the way 
 from the station. I was pretty hungry, too. I couldn t 
 afford to get dinner on the train, and I couldn t wait 
 to stop to eat in Santa Barbara. And I was good and 
 trembly because well, I hadn t seen Bill for over 
 a year. I stumbled up the stairs and knocked on the 
 door, and when Bill heard my voice he wouldn t let 
 me in. I heard him groan O, God! it almost broke 
 my heart! He called through the door for me to go 
 away. He said he didn t love me any more. Of 
 course I knew he was lying. I didn t know what to 
 do. Bill s got an awful strong will. I didn t know 
 how to make him believe I didn t care how he looked. 
 I just sat down on the stairs and begun to cry. 
 Then Dot begun to whine and scratch on the door. 
 Bill couldn t stand that. He swore at him and kicked 
 him. It was the only time he ever struck him, but Dot 
 wouldn t budge and kept scratching on the door. It 
 was terrible. So Bill wrapped a towel round his 
 face and opened the door. I just fell in his arms. 
 But he put me away from him and said he wouldn t 
 curse my life, and that I must go away." 
 
 The other girl was staring at her, awed. "What 
 did you do?" she whispered. 
 
 "Oh, I ran up to him again, and pulled off the 
 towel and I kissed him." She spoke almost imper 
 sonally. 
 
 Kate kindled, now. "Oh, Fleurette, did you ? Gee, 
 
414 THE HEART LINE 
 
 you were game!" She giggled somewhat hysteri 
 cally. "Lucky his mouth wasn t shot off, wasn t it?" 
 
 Fleurette gazed off across the green and spoke as 
 to one who knew not of life s realities, saying, simply : 
 
 "Oh, I didn t kiss him on the mouth, Kate there 
 was plenty of time for that! I kissed him right 
 where that Moro bullet had wounded him!" 
 
 Kate shook her head slowly. "I guess you done 
 right!" she said. Then, "Say, I d like to see Bill 
 again, Fleurette." 
 
 Clytie arose, gave the girl one swift glance as 
 she left, and walked away. She had met two hero 
 ines that day, and her nerves were vibrating like 
 tense strings. She walked up and down the square, 
 keeping her eyes on Granthope s doorway. 
 
 In half an hour she saw him striding up Geary 
 Street. She followed him rapidly, ran up the stairs 
 and knocked again at his door. He opened it and 
 took her instantly into his arms. She lay there with 
 out speaking, and there was a blessed interval of 
 silence after his kiss. 
 
 The stimulating newness of possession thrilled him. 
 She was still strange, mysterious, of a different caste, 
 and there was something deliriously fearful in this 
 familiarity as she lay captive, unresisting, trembling 
 in his embrace. He had set his trap for a sparrow 
 and caught a bird of paradise. He knew his power 
 over her, now, though he dared not test it. He 
 dreaded to break the spell of her wonderful conde 
 scension, her royal grace and favor. He was in no 
 hurry to remove her crown and scepter; the piquancy 
 of his romance fascinated him. 
 
 She broke away from him with a gentle insistence, 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 415 
 
 and looked at him, rosy and smiling. "I m afraid 
 I m just like all other women, after all and I m glad 
 of it!" she confessed, as she readjusted her hat and 
 sank into the arm-chair to look up at him fondly. 
 
 "I don t suppose you realize how strange it seems 
 for me to act this way?" she said. "No man has ever 
 held me in his arms before. I have never thought 
 of the possibility of it even with you. All that 
 sort of demonstration has been inhibited I have 
 always wondered if I had any passion in me. Of 
 course, when I kissed you the other time it was 
 different it was the seal of a compact. But this 
 time it seemed so natural that I didn t think. This 
 is the end of my virginal serenity for ever. I think 
 you have awakened me at last!" 
 
 She broke into happy laughter. "Did I do it well, 
 dear? I m ashamed to think how inexperienced I 
 am and you have known so many cleverer women. 
 If you call me amateurish, I ll slay you ! But I think 
 I shall be an apt pupil, though. Francis, stop laugh 
 ing at me, or I ll go home !" 
 
 Her naivete was breaking up that glorified seraphic 
 vision he had held of her and put her more nearly 
 on his level, or, perhaps, raised him to her. He let 
 his wonder fade slowly. However, with all his cus 
 tomary audacity he could not yet match her mood. 
 She saw his reserve and took a woman s delight 
 in wooing him. 
 
 "Must I convince you that I am flesh and blood?" 
 she exclaimed with spirit. "And you the lady-killer 
 the hero of a hundred victories you don t seem 
 to know that you have me at your feet! Nor how 
 proud I am of it!" 
 
416 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Then she jumped up and took his hands in hers 
 softly. "You must be very good to me, Francis, dear, 
 for I m simple and ignorant compared to the women 
 you ve known, I suppose. But I m a woman, after 
 all. I don t want to be worshiped. I want the ten- 
 derness of an honest man s love, such as other women 
 have. I want my divine birthright. I ve been aloof 
 from men all my life. That doesn t make me 
 any less desirable, does -it? I ve never met a man 
 who answered my demands. You do, or you will 
 before I m through with you. Don t think I m going 
 to be all moonshine and vapors. I m going to love 
 you till stars dance in the heavens ! That s what you 
 get for wakening me, my friend ! I ve been asleep, 
 floating in dreams. I want a man s strength and 
 chivalry and audacity and vigor and romance, instead 
 of the painted shadows I ve known. Aren t you 
 afraid of me ?" She dropped her head to his shoulder. 
 
 He needed no further hint. He put away her halo 
 and her crown, he drew the ermine from her, and 
 the vision in her eyes was made manifest But it 
 was still too new for her to more than sip at the 
 cup of delight; she would take her happiness by epi 
 curean inches. So she slid away and evaded him, 
 putting the chair half-mockingly between them. 
 
 "My father has forbidden me to come down here 
 to see you," she said. "It s really quite romantic. 
 But of course I told him I should come, nevertheless, 
 so we can t quite call it clandestine. He ll never 
 dare ask me if I ve been here. He s quite afraid 
 of me, when I insist upon having my own way." 
 
 "Have you said anything about Madam Spoil and 
 Vixley to him?" 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 417 
 
 "Yes, but that s no use. They certainly seem to 
 have given him some wonderful tests I don t see 
 how they could have done so well and he s abso 
 lutely convinced. I don t see what we can do, unless 
 we wait for them to go too far and arouse his sus 
 picions. I can t think he s feeble-minded. They re 
 making him pay, though that s the least of the matter." 
 
 "I have had an idea that I might get hold of one 
 of the gang a Doctor Masterson and induce him 
 to sell them out. He s a turncoat, and if he only 
 knows enough about their game he could be bribed." 
 
 "I must leave it to you, Francis. I don t like 
 that method, exactly, but we must do what we can. 
 Perhaps it will settle itself. We can do nothing yet, 
 at any rate. To-day I ve come down to ask you to 
 invite me to lunch, please !" 
 
 "With pleasure only, if I must confess I don t 
 know that I can offer you a very good one. Wait 
 I ll see how much money I have left." He felt doubt 
 fully in his pocket, and added, "Oh, that s all right, 
 we can go to the Palace." 
 
 Clytie was instantly suspicious. "How much have 
 you?" 
 
 "Quite enough." 
 
 "Answer me, sir !" 
 
 "About twelve dollars." 
 
 She gasped. "Do you mean to say that s all you 
 have left?" 
 
 "Everything. But my rent is paid for a month in 
 advance." 
 
 "Have you any debts?" 
 
 "Naturally. Two hundred dollars or so, that s 
 all." 
 
4i8 THE HEART LINE 
 
 She came up to him and worked her ringer into his 
 buttonhole. "Francis Granthope," she said solemnly, 
 "are you really ruined?" Her eyes danced. 
 
 "Oh, I ve got enough junk in my chamber to pay 
 that off, I expect, but it won t leave me exactly 
 affluent." 
 
 She burst into a delicious chime of laughter. "Why, 
 it s positively melodramatic, isn t it? I never hap 
 pened to know any one who was actually bankrupt 
 before. Of course it must happen, sometimes, but 
 somehow I thought people could always raise some 
 money, even if they had to scrimp. How exciting 
 it is aren t you nervous about it? Why, I d be 
 frightened to death ! And yet it seems terribly amus 
 ing!" 
 
 He laughed with her. "I can t seem to take it 
 very seriously, while you re with me, at any rate. 
 To tell the truth, I haven t begun to think about 
 it yet. Of course my fees have always been in cash, 
 and consequently there s nothing coming in. And 
 I ve always spent every cent I made, and a little more. 
 But I ve been broke before, and it doesn t alarm me, 
 except that, of course, I can t depend upon living 
 by my wits in quite the same way as I would have, 
 if I hadn t chucked that sort of thing. If I didn t 
 care how I did it, I suppose I could make a hundred 
 or so a week easily enough." 
 
 She listened and grew more serious. "Of course 
 that s all over. But you ve got to have money! 
 Let s see what I have with me." She took her purse 
 from her bag and emptied it upon the desk. Several 
 ten- and twenty-dollar gold pieces rolled out. 
 
 Granthope shook his head sharply. "No, don t do 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 419 
 
 that, please! I can t take anything, even as a 
 loan, you know. I can t spend a cent I haven t 
 honestly earned I never shall again, if I have to 
 starve, which I don t intend to do, either. You must 
 know that." 
 
 "But from me isn t that different?" 
 
 "Not even from you !" 
 
 "Of course you mustn t. I see. It s better 
 not to, yet somehow I could have forgiven you 
 if you had let me help a little at first. I don t 
 exactly see how you re going to live. Why, it s 
 awful, when you come to think of it, isn t it? It really 
 is serious. What a goose I ve been! I m afraid I 
 shall worry about you now. Well, you ll have to have 
 lunch with me to-day, anyway. That s only fair, if 
 I invite you." 
 
 "On the contrary, I m going to invite you to share 
 my humble meal." 
 
 "All right; let s be reckless then, if you must be 
 proud and show off. It will be fun. I never econo 
 mized in my life, but now I m going to show you 
 how. Hand over all your wealth, please." 
 
 She counted it out upon the desk, a five dollar 
 piece, six silver dollars and two halves and a few 
 nickels. "Now," she said, "how long can we make 
 this last a week?" 
 
 "I ve lived for three weeks on that much, often, 
 and paid for my room." 
 
 "Something s bound to happen within ten days, I m 
 sure. If you see nothing ahead at the end of a week, 
 I ll put you on half-rations, and till then I ll allow 
 you a dollar a day. Shall I keep it for you?" 
 
 He was delighted to have a treasurer. 
 
420 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Now we ll take fifty cents and go to some nice 
 dairy place and sit on a stool." 
 
 But, as he insisted upon a place where they could 
 talk in quiet, they went, instead, to a shady little 
 restaurant around the corner, and there they seriously 
 discussed his prospects. 
 
 He did so whimsically. It was really absurd that 
 he, in full health, six feet high and a hundred and 
 seventy pounds in weight, at twenty-eight, could do 
 nothing, so far as he knew, to support himself hon 
 estly. He had been a parasite upon the vanity of fools. 
 After much casting about for ideas, she sent for an 
 Examiner and began to search through the "Help 
 Wanted; Male" column. 
 
 The Barber s College she rejected first, although 
 he pointed out the advantageous fact that it offered 
 "wages while learning." Canvassing for books or 
 watches they both agreed was not interesting enough. 
 Boot-black he raised his eyebrows in consideration, 
 she shook her head energetically; it was too con 
 spicuous, with these open-air sidewalk stands. She 
 turned up her nose, also, at the idea of his distribut 
 ing circulars. The Marine Corps tempted him next 
 but no, she couldn t think of sparing him for three 
 years, not to speak of a girl in every port. She 
 asked him what a job-press feeder was; he didn t 
 know, but he was sure he couldn t do it it would be 
 all he could do to feed himself. Profiler if he could 
 make as good a profile as Clytie s now, he might 
 get that job. But it appeared to be something con 
 nected with a machine-shop. He looked at his white 
 hands and smiled. Weavers, warpers and winders 
 equally mysterious and impossible. The rest of the 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 421 
 
 wants were for mechanics and tradesmen. Clytie 
 dropped the paper, disappointed. 
 
 He declined to let the matter disturb him, as yet. 
 He had no fear of the future, and the present was too 
 charming not to be enjoyed to the full. 
 
 "What I ve always wanted to do," he said, "is 
 to study medicine. If I could get money enough 
 ahead to put myself through a medical school, I 
 wouldn t mind beginning even at my age. I think 
 I m fitted for that, for I ve cultivated my powers 
 of observation and I know a good deal about human 
 nature, and I ve read everything I could lay my 
 hands on. Some day I shall try that." 
 
 "Very well, Doctor Granthope, I shall make up 
 my mind to being a doctor s wife, and being rung up 
 at all hours, and being alone half the time." 
 
 "I wasn t aware that I had proposed yet," he 
 answered jocosely. 
 
 "Why, people don t propose, now, do they? Not 
 real people. What a Bromide you are!" she laughed 
 joyously. 
 
 "I ll have to disprove that. Let s spend the rest 
 of the afternoon out of doors and get acquainted ! 
 Then when I have a good chance I ll ask if you ll 
 be my wife. Do you realize how little we know of 
 one another? It s ridiculous. Why, you may have 
 a middle name for all I know! You may eat sugar 
 on canteloupe or vinegar on your oysters; you may 
 be an extraordinary mimic; you may have escaped 
 sudden death; you may have been engaged when you 
 were seventeen ; you may sulk ; you may mispronounce 
 my favorite words ! How do I know but you like 
 magenta and Germans and canary birds, and wear 
 
422 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Jaegers; and object to profanity and nicknames, and 
 say well-read and read the Philistine!" 
 
 "Good Lord, deliver us ! That s a devil s lit 
 urgy!" In denial of his categories she held him 
 out her palm. "Oh, you should know me by that 
 right hand ! You re supposed to be a trained observer 
 of symptoms and stigmata. You re the one who needs 
 investigation ! Do you realize what a risk I am 
 running? Why, I haven t yet heard you speak to a 
 dog, or answer a beggar, or seen you eat a banana, 
 or watch a vaudeville show and all four are neces 
 sary before I really know you." 
 
 She bent her head in mock humility and looked up 
 at him from beneath her golden lashes. "You needn t 
 be afraid, Francis ; if you tell me what your rules 
 are, I ll obey them. If you really want me to wear 
 magenta, I shall be terribly fond of it, and I shall 
 only think I ve been stupid all my life to loathe it, 
 and be so glad to learn. But I hope you don t!" 
 
 "If you ll allow me five cents for dessert," he said 
 as seriously, "I ll order bananas, at the risk of losing 
 you for ever." 
 
 They had begun now to revel in the piquancy of 
 the situation. Their meetings had, up to this time, 
 seemed fatal in their dramatic sequence, fraught with 
 meaning, working steadily up to the climax in the 
 studio. There had been few scenes between them, 
 but those scenes had been cumulative in feeling. 
 They had played their parts like actors in a play of 
 destiny, a play whose plot had been closely knit and 
 esthetically economical in incident and dialogue, each 
 act developing logically the previous situation. Now 
 that the tension was released, and the reaction had 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 423 
 
 come after an histrionic catastrophe, each looked at 
 the other with new eyes, seeking the living person 
 tinder the tragic mask. 
 
 In this delightful pursuit they came upon such fan 
 tastic surprises, such rare coincidences, such lovely 
 similarities of whim and taste and prejudice, and, 
 above all, such a rare harmony in their points of view 
 on life, that their talk was as exciting as if they 
 had just met for the first time. The talk ran on, 
 back and forth, lively with continual revelation. It 
 came out, not in dominating trends of thought, or 
 principled opinions, but in many charming lesser 
 exemplifications of their mutual fastidiousness. She 
 reached for a plate, and his hand was outstretched to 
 give it to her at precisely the same instant their 
 fingers touched, and their eyes spoke in delighted sur 
 prise. He discovered that she, like himself, took no 
 sugar in her coffee, and on that consanguinity of 
 taste an imaginative structure arose, to be destroyed 
 with equal delight when he found that she was resisting 
 a temptation to use cream. She quoted spontaneously 
 a line from Stevenson that, for no reason whatever, 
 he had always loved: "For to my mind one thing 
 is as good as another in this world, and a shoe 
 of a horse will do." She knew his language, he 
 fulfilled her test. Such were their tiny psychological 
 romances at table. 
 
 They had reversed the usual order of progression in 
 their friendship, or rather Fate had reversed it for 
 them. Had they become betrothed in the ancient man 
 ner without previous knowledge of one another, their 
 position could have been no more alluring and 
 delicate, for, strangers physically and, to an extent, 
 
424 THE HEART LINE 
 
 mentally, their intimacy of spirit was as certain and ir 
 revocable as a blood relationship. They played with a 
 series of little embarrassments. 
 
 To-day they had changed their characteristic parts ; 
 he was timid, as he had never been timid with women. 
 She was bold, as she had never been bold with men. 
 The primitive woman had come to life in her. They 
 were, however, both of that caste which can notice, 
 analyze and discuss the subtleties of such a condi 
 tion while still enjoying it to the full. It delighted 
 them to glean the nuances and overtones of that 
 harmony. It was a new experience to Granthope to be 
 with one who understood and was sensitive to the 
 secondary and tertiary thrills of delight without hav 
 ing become hyper-refined out of vibration with the 
 primal note of passion. That sharing of the wonderful 
 first fruits with her, mentally as well as physically and 
 spiritually, kept his appetite for her whetted to a 
 keen edge. He could not get enough of her from sight 
 or hearing, and each touch of her hand became a 
 perilously exciting event, a little voyage of poetic 
 adventure. 
 
 They were both learning swiftly the art of loving, 
 but, though one goes far in the first sensational les 
 sons, one can not go all the way, no matter how reck 
 less is the attempt. Passion has to be adjusted to 
 tenderness, and affection to experience, or there is 
 discord. For her, perhaps, that love held more of 
 faery, more freshness and delicious abandon, more 
 mystery, for her nerves had never been dulled by 
 contact; but for him there were newer and truer 
 wonders as well. He had taken another degree in 
 sentiment, and the initiation was as marvelous for 
 

 *&. ^ 
 
 " 
 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 425 
 
 him, an apprentice, as for her, a neophyte. And, in 
 that sacred, secret lodge, when the time came, she 
 would jump in a single intuitive moment to his level 
 and surpass him. 
 
 Already she was tuned to the emotional pitch; she 
 would notice every false move, every mistake in his 
 devotion, as well as if she had been with him past- 
 master in the rites of love. She could already teach 
 him, and already she began to hold him back sensi 
 tively, to linger over every transient mood of feeling, 
 every minor phase which women, in that stage between 
 wooing and winning, so care to taste to the last sweet 
 drop. Every reflex, every echo, she would bid him 
 answer to, indefinitely prolonging, now that she was 
 sure of him, the fineness of the reward of her moment, 
 delaying the definite end. He had taught her the 
 rapture of a caress she would teach him the excite 
 ment of a smile, a tone, a gesture. 
 
 They lingered long at the table and then went 
 forth into the sun. The cable-car carried them, still 
 bantering, to the gate of the Presidio, and they set 
 out rollicking across the golf-links. The open downs 
 stretched in front of them in long, sweeping lines, 
 like the ground swells of the sea, skirted to the north 
 by groves of cypress and eucalyptus trees. Beyond, 
 to the west, the ground grew sandy as it approached 
 the ocean, and from that direction a sea-breeze sailed, 
 salt and strong. Behind them was Lone Mountain, 
 with its huge cross on top, and from there in a scat 
 tering quadrant a multitude of little houses, the out 
 skirts of the city, skirmished towards the park. The 
 turf was hard and smooth as a carpet, burned, here 
 and there, in patches of black, but elsewhere of a 
 
426 THE HEART LINE 
 
 pastel green, colored by the hardier weeds that had 
 sustained the drought and fought their way through 
 the matted, sunburned stalks of dry grass. 
 
 Dipping down through a wide, sandy hollow, tan 
 gled with fuzzy undergrowth, they climbed up again, 
 making for a shoulder of the hill where the road 
 curved sharply round the summit. They were alone 
 in the world, now; no one was in sight, at least, and 
 the glory of this free space of earth and air brought 
 them as near to one another as if they had regained 
 childhood. Clytie s hat was off, and her hair wan 
 toned over her forehead and neck. She gave him 
 her joyous laughter unrestrained, and he listened as 
 to a song, and attempted by every wile he knew to 
 provoke it again and again. If she had been high- 
 priestess before, now she was pixie, and he was, at 
 first, almost as afraid of her in this new guise. He 
 explored a new world with her, as Adam did with Eve. 
 As Adam did with Eve, he marveled at her. 
 
 It came to him, as they walked, that what had kept 
 them apart, mentally, was an odd lack of humor. 
 He saw how his whole life had been a pose towards 
 himself as well as towards the world, repressing what 
 now, the costume and custom gone, would come forth 
 bubbling without care. He had kept a straight face 
 so long! What mirth he had felt, in presence of his 
 dupes, had been strained fine, escaping in the corner 
 of a smile, while he fashioned his glib phrases. It 
 had been a preacher s sobriety, the sedateness of priest 
 craft, aging him prematurely. She held him her hands 
 now down the years, back to decent, cleanly fun. To 
 his surprise he found that he could give full vent to 
 it. He could laugh aloud, and need not study effects 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 427 
 
 and poses ; he need not impress her. His wit was 
 clumsy; it even approached silliness, in its first runa 
 way impulse, but he at least lost his self-conscious 
 ness. He followed her merriment, and they discovered 
 nonsense together. 
 
 So, jollying, they tramped up to the road and came 
 suddenly upon the sea, flaming, peacock blue, at the 
 foot of the cliff which fell almost vertically at their 
 feet. Across the dancing waves, from a coast like 
 Norway s, Point Bonita arose, guarding the Golden 
 Gate. At the end of a semicircular cove to their 
 left a ragged cliff jutted into the channel; behind its 
 promontory the hills rolled back. 
 
 She gave a cry of joy and happiness and sat down 
 on the verge of the bluff to feast upon the view. He 
 dropped beside her and took her hand. An automo 
 bile whirred past them and she did not flinch. There 
 he underwent a revulsion of feeling. 
 
 "How can you love me?" he said bitterly. "What 
 good am I? I have no capacity, no prospects, no 
 purpose, even! I am a mere negative, and if I 
 loved you I should free you from the incubus." 
 
 "Do you recall reading the palm of a girl whose 
 lover in the Philippines refused to write to her?" she 
 asked. "It happened about the time I first knew you, 
 I think." 
 
 He nodded, watching a tug towing a bark out 
 through the Gate, and she told him what she had 
 heard of Fleurette s story that morning. It was no 
 slight relief to him to think that he had helped some 
 one, though his assistance had been based upon deceit. 
 
 "Don t you see?" she said. "Don t you understand 
 how women love? It makes no difference how poor 
 
428 THE HEART LINE 
 
 or how dishonored a man may be, if she loves him her 
 happiness must be with him." 
 
 "Oh, a physical deformity is easy enough to forget. 
 But how about a moral one ? You ll be the wife of an 
 outcast." 
 
 "If you refused to accept my love, if you left me, 
 now, you would be inflicting a far greater pain than 
 any gossip could ever give me." 
 
 "The mere problem of living appals me," he 
 went on gloomily. "I would never think twice of it, 
 if I were alone. But you know what a coward mar 
 riage makes of one." 
 
 She laughed in his face. Til be your first patient, 
 Doctor Granthope, and I ll pay you well !" 
 
 "If there was some way of getting that money of 
 Madam Grant s. I ve never even thought of trying 
 to claim it, but perhaps I might go up to Stockton and 
 inquire about it. Of course, there s no fear of being 
 accused of stealing it, now. But even if I had it, I 
 don t know whether or not it would be right to use it 
 myself." 
 
 "You might at least borrow it for a while, but for 
 my own part I m convinced that it s yours. There s 
 no reason why the bank should have the use of it for 
 nothing. I wish we could clear up that matter of 
 Madam Grant." 
 
 They set out again, she with a buoyant tread, wil 
 lowy and strong. It was not till her muscles relaxed 
 that her characteristic, dreamy languor was apparent, 
 and this trait was slowly disappearing under the influ 
 ence of the new interest in her life. It was as if 
 she had found, now, what she, in her former quies 
 cent moods, had been watching and waiting for, and 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 429 
 
 Granthope s presence stimulated her with energy. She 
 was almost coquettish with him at times, now, the 
 mood alternating with a noble frankness, the bold 
 ness of a gambler who has cast all hardily upon a 
 single stroke. She was not afraid of being seen with 
 him. She gave him herself in every word and glance. 
 A casual observer could have read her fondness for 
 him. 
 
 They went along the road, skirting the water, past 
 the battery emplacements and disappearing guns, over 
 a low hill toward the Fort. From this side the Bay 
 opened to them, and beyond lay line on line of moun 
 tains, growing hazier in the distance, to the north 
 and east. They had regained their spirits with this 
 exercise, and talked again freely as boy and girl. He 
 noticed with amusement and delight how she edged, 
 unconsciously, nearer and nearer him. If he crossed 
 the road, she came to him, without perceiving the 
 regularity of it, as the armature comes to the mag 
 net. She nearly forced him into the wall, or off the 
 walk, in her unthinking pursuit of him, so strongly 
 he attracted her. She blushed furiously when he spoke 
 of it it was so droll that he could not help mention 
 ing it but that comment did not cure her. She was 
 over by his side, rubbing elbows as unaffectedly the 
 next instant. How could she help it, when he kept 
 his eyes on her as he did? she said. So, along the 
 shore by the Life Saving Station, up to the parade 
 ground and the barracks, then by a climb up the steep, 
 narrow, tree-grown path to the corner gate of the 
 reservation they sported. 
 
 That was the first of a series of outings they had 
 together that week. The Golden Gate Park, Sutro s 
 
430 THE HEART LINE 
 
 forest and the beach were each explored in turn, 
 and while still within the limits of the city they tasted 
 of country, mountain and shore, and let the days fly 
 by. Clytie brought the luncheon, and they ate it, picnic 
 fashion, under the blue sky. She kept strict account 
 of his finances, and as his small capital dwindled they 
 came back to his plans for the future. He met her, 
 one day, with news. 
 
 "I think I shall have to go to work, after all," he 
 said. "I ve got a position." 
 
 She congratulated him, not without a shade of 
 sorrow that their holidays were to end. 
 
 "It s too much like my old work to be very proud 
 of, but it s a step up. It s founded on vanity, but this 
 time I shall exploit my own instead of others . I m 
 going on the stage. I ve found my name is worth 
 something." 
 
 She was a little disappointed and he was not sur 
 prised. "Oh, I ll soon become unbearable, I suppose. 
 Most of the time I don t spend in front of the make-up 
 glass looking at myself, I ll spend being looked at, 
 trying to propitiate an audience. It s a school of ego 
 ism. But at least my pose will be honest. I saw the 
 stage manager of the Alcazar, and I m going to begin 
 to rehearse next Monday." 
 
 He spoke banteringly, but she felt the truth of his 
 jests. Still, it would provide for the present. It 
 would make him more than ever notorious but it was 
 better than idleness. 
 
 The next day at ten o clock she appeared at the 
 studio to spend the day with him. It was Wednes 
 day, and they were anxious to make the most of what 
 time remained. 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 431 
 
 Except for his bed, table and bureau, his chamber 
 was empty now, all his effects having been sold at 
 auction. The sum received barely sufficed to pay off 
 his debts. The studio, too, was bare, and placards 
 hung outside both doors indicating that the premises 
 were to let. The little office, however, was left as 
 usual, except for the casts of hands, put away in the 
 closet, and in this room they stayed by the open fire. 
 
 He was looking over his card catalogue as she 
 entered. He had conceived the plan of writing a book 
 on palmistry along new lines, in which he might 
 embody his observations and theories. His aim was 
 to attempt to correlate chirography, chiromancy, phre 
 nology, physiognomy and all those sciences and pseudo- 
 sciences which seek to interpret character through 
 specialized individual characteristics, and to trace the 
 evidences from one to another, showing how each ele 
 ment or indication would recur in every manifestation 
 of a person s individuality, and how one symptom 
 might be inferred and corroborated by another. It 
 would take time and trouble, but he could spend 
 his leisure upon it. The plan was tentative and hypo 
 thetical, but so suggestive that he was becoming 
 interested in proving its verification. Clytie was en 
 thusiastic about the book and desirous of helping him. 
 
 He was becoming less afraid of her, and more sure 
 of himself, after their days together, and he greeted 
 her boldly enough, now. Yet there was still a fasci 
 nating novelty in his possession of her that made his 
 familiarity seem like recklessness. Not for her, how 
 ever. Once having given him her lips she could never 
 refuse them again, nor could she longer think the 
 action strange. 
 
432 THE HEART LINE 
 
 She took off her coat and hat, tucked in an errant 
 curl or two over her ears and seated herself lux 
 uriously in the arm-chair. As she had played with him, 
 so now she worked with him, arranging his notes, dic 
 tating for him to write, or stopping to discuss the 
 subject. She was too adorable in all this assumption 
 of importance and seriousness for him not to inter 
 rupt her occupation more than once, for which diver 
 sion of her attention he was sent back promptly to his 
 desk. The business kept them so employed for two 
 hours, when she opened her package, brought forth 
 their luncheon and brewed a pot of tea on the hearth. 
 
 "Francis," she said, after that was over, "do you 
 know we are actually becoming acquainted? Isn t 
 it too bad !" 
 
 "Don t you enjoy the process?" 
 
 "Decidedly I do. That s why I regret that it must 
 soon be over." 
 
 "I doubt if we ll ever finish if we do, it will be 
 still more delightful to know you. And this process 
 brings us toward that beautiful consummation." 
 
 "Yes, but this part is so pleasant. I hate to see 
 it go. I want to roll it over on my tongue. Now, 
 every word you say is a revelation and a surprise 
 a surprise that I have been anticipating all my life, 
 if you ll pardon the bull. It s like unwrapping a 
 mummy I get excitedly nearer and nearer my ideal 
 of you." 
 
 "But there s no satisfaction in opening doors if 
 one can t go in." 
 
 "Ah, there s the immortal difference between a man 
 and a woman ! Most men want a marvel, patent and 
 notorious. They want to come to the end of the rain- 
 
THE FORE-HONEYMOON 433 
 
 bow and find the pot of gold; that s all, whether that 
 means a kiss or a marriage. Women enjoy every step 
 of the journey. Men think of nothing but fulfilment, 
 women of achievement. Men care only for the black 
 art of the Indian fakir who makes a grain of wheat 
 grow to full maturity in a few minutes. Women 
 appreciate the wonder of the natural development of 
 that same little seed in the warm bosom of the earth, 
 with its slow evolution of sprout and stalk and leaf 
 and blossom the glory of every step on the way!" 
 
 "But, can t you see that progress in affection needn t 
 be a limited journey to a finite end, even the end of the 
 flower, but, no matter how fast one travels, if one 
 is really in love, the goal is always infinitely distant? 
 There are enough things to be understood and en 
 joyed." 
 
 "Oh, I m sure enough that I ll never get enough of 
 you, and never know enough about you !" 
 
 "That s almost too true to be funny. You ll never 
 know even who I am, I m afraid. Think what a risk 
 you run, my dear!" 
 
 "Oh, I know who you are well enough. You re the 
 son of Casanova and Little Dorrit." 
 
 He grew reflective. "Isn t it strange," he said, 
 "that you, with all your wonderful intuitions, shouldn t 
 be able, somehow, to solve that riddle? Do you think 
 I am Madam Grant s son? Sometimes that seems to 
 be the inevitable conclusion." 
 
 "I can t quite think you are, Francis. Everything 
 you have told me about her has brought her very 
 near to me, somehow, and I feel as if I knew her, but 
 you don t affect me in the same way. I think you re 
 a changeling, myself! It is strange that I can t quite 
 
434 THE HEART LINE 
 
 get you now, though, not nearly as well as I used to. 
 My power seems to have waned ever since " 
 
 "Since what?" 
 
 "Since that first kiss ! You see, I ve exchanged that 
 elusive power for something tangible." She put him 
 away with a gesture. "No, not now ! I want to 
 be serious ! And oh, here s what I found in my father s 
 scrap-book. It seemed to have been cut from a very 
 old paper. Somehow it seems to point to her. I want 
 to know what you think about it." 
 
 She had copied it out and read it to him: 
 
 "Miss Felicia Gerard, who spoke immediately after Mrs. 
 Woodhull s address, is one of that lady s most devoted ad 
 herents and helpers, having been connected with the cause 
 for nearly a year. Although only twenty years of age, 
 Miss Gerard has brought into action talents of no mean 
 order. She was graduated at Vassar College, and is en 
 dowed both physically and mentally with the rarest and 
 most lovable qualities. She was first presented to Mrs. 
 Woodhull in Toledo, where the remarkable clairvoyant 
 powers shared by the two women drew them naturally to 
 gether. Miss Gerard is a regular contributor to Woodhull 
 and Claflin s Weekly where her spirited articles have at 
 tracted wide notice and flattering praise." 
 
 "That must be Mamsy," he said. 
 
 "I m sure of it. I shall ask my father as soon as 
 I get the opportunity." 
 
 For the rest of the afternoon they talked as if they 
 were never to meet again. Once or twice there came 
 a knock, and the door was tried, but Granthope did 
 not answer, and they were left alone in peace. She 
 rose to go at. six, and, as she was to be busy all the 
 next day, the parting was long delayed. They were, 
 indeed, getting rapidly acquainted. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE REENTRANT ANGLE 
 
 Blanchard Cayley strolled into the Mercantile Libra 
 ry, one afternoon, and, nodding to the clerk at the 
 desk, walked to an alcove in the corner of the main 
 hall. He stopped at a shelf and sat down on a stool. 
 He had done this several afternoons a week for years, 
 going through the library as a business man takes 
 account of stock, examining every book in order. Of 
 some he read only the titles, glancing perhaps also 
 at the date of the edition ; of some he looked over the 
 table of contents. Others he read, nibbling here and 
 there. A few he took home. He had, by this time, 
 almost exhausted the list. He read, not like a book 
 worm, with relish and zest, nor like a student desirous 
 of a mastery of his subject; he read, as he did every 
 thing, even to his love-making, deliberately, accurately, 
 with an elaborate scientific method that was, in its 
 intricacy, something of a game, whose rules he alone 
 knew. He had, indeed, specialized, taking up such 
 subjects as jade, Japanese poetry, Esperanto, higher 
 space, Bahiism, and devil-worship, and in such sub 
 jects he had what is termed "lore," but his main object 
 was the conquest of the whole library in itself. 
 
 This afternoon he did not read long. Looking 
 over the top of his book, as was his custom from time 
 to time, to discover what women were present, he 
 caught sight of Clytie Payson in the alcove containing 
 
 435 
 
436 THE HEART LINE 
 
 the government reports. He replaced his volume and 
 went over to her. 
 
 She was in high spirits, and welcomed him cordially, 
 as if she had but just come from something interesting 
 and stimulating; another man s smile seemed still to 
 linger with her. 
 
 "Why, how d you do, Blanchard?" she said. "I 
 haven t seen you here for a long time. What has hap 
 pened? Have you finished the library yet?" 
 
 "Oh, no, not quite. I ve still a few more shelves 
 to do, but I ve been studying psychology on the side." 
 
 She looked at him with an indulgence that was new 
 to him. "In petticoats, I presume, then?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "No, I ve been studying 
 a man," he said. "What are you doing?" 
 
 She overlooked the purport of his question and 
 answered lightly, "Oh, only looking up some statistics 
 for father. I ve been coming here quite often, lately, 
 but I m almost finished, now. Is there anything in the 
 world duller than a statistic? I always think of the 
 man who went for information to a statistician at 
 Washington and was asked, What d you want to 
 prove ? " 
 
 "How is your father getting on with the book?" 
 
 Clytie grew a little more serious. "Why, father s 
 queer lately. I can t understand him at all. He s 
 taken up with some spiritualists, and I m rather wor 
 ried about it." 
 
 "He s talked to me about them. But I should hardly 
 think you d be surprised at it. You re as much inter 
 ested in palmistry as he is in the spooks, aren t you?" 
 
 Clytie flashed a glance at him. "Didn t you know 
 that Mr. Granthope had given up palmistry?" 
 
THE REENTRANT ANGLE 437 
 
 Cayley smiled and smoothed his pointed beard. 
 "Oh, yes. I ve heard considerable about it. Nobody 
 seems to understand it but me. Very clever of him, 
 I think." 
 
 "What d you mean?" Clytie was instantly upon the 
 defense. 
 
 "I like his system. It s subtle." 
 
 "His system?" 
 
 "Yes. You don t mean to say you still think he s 
 sincere, do you?" 
 
 "I don t think it s necessary to discuss Mr. Grant- 
 hope," said Clytie carelessly. "Of course I do believe 
 he s sincere, or I wouldn t call myself a friend of his. 
 He has given up a good paying business because he 
 was sick of that way of earning a living." 
 
 "And also in order to make more money by quit- 
 ting." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "By marrying you." 
 
 She winced. "Blanchard," she said, "if you weren t 
 an old friend, I couldn t forgive you that. But because 
 you are, I can t permit you to think it." 
 
 "It was because we are old friends that I permitted 
 myself to speak so plainly. You ll count it, I suppose, 
 merely as jealousy. But I hate to see you taken in so 
 easily." 
 
 Clytie looked up at him calmly, folding her hands 
 in her lap. "Now, Blanchard, please tell me exactly 
 what you mean, without any more insinuations." 
 
 "Why, Granthope has been for two months 
 trying to marry you. He s after your money." 
 
 "Thank you for the implied compliment," she re 
 torted dryly. 
 
438 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, well, you know perfectly well what 7 think 
 of you, Cly. I was thinking of what I know of him, 
 not what I know of you. He s made a deliberate 
 attempt to get you, and this reform business is only 
 a part of the game." 
 
 She smiled and turned away, as if she were so sure 
 of Granthope that it was hardly worth her while even 
 to defend him. 
 
 "It s not pleasant to say it," he went on ; "but you 
 spoke of being distrustful of these mediums your father 
 knows, and my point is that Granthope s tarred with 
 the same brush. He has worked with them and plot 
 ted with them." 
 
 She was as yet unruffled ; the spell of her happiness 
 was still upon her, and she answered mildly. "I can 
 hardly blame you for thinking that, perhaps. I sup 
 pose I might myself, if I didn t know him so well. 
 But I do happen to know something about his life, and 
 I m sure you re mistaken. He s told me a good deal, 
 and I have my own intuitions besides." 
 
 Cayley was as serene. "Do your intuitions tell you, 
 for instance, that he has a definite understanding with 
 these mediums in regard to you ?" 
 
 "No, they do not!" she answered calmly, looking 
 him fair in the face. 
 
 "It s true, nevertheless." Cayley, with sharp eyes, 
 noted her flush. Her eyes were well schooled, but her 
 quivering mouth betrayed her trouble. 
 
 She took up her book as if to dismiss the subject. 
 
 Cayley watched her with impassive eyes. "You may 
 be his friend, as you say, but there are a lot of things 
 about Granthope that you don t know yet." 
 
 "No doubt," she replied without looking up. 
 
THE REENTRANT ANGLE 439 
 
 "And there are things which you ought to know." 
 
 She looked at him now, to say: "Do you fancy 
 that you are helping your own chances any by attack 
 ing him? * 
 
 "Will it help his chances any if you find that he 
 has given away particular facts that he s discovered 
 about you and your father?" 
 
 She had begun to be aroused, now, and she showed 
 fight. "I don t believe it !" 
 
 Still unperturbed, he went on in his mechanically 
 precise way. "I ve made it my business to find out 
 about Granthope, Cly. It shouldn t surprise you 
 you know I m in earnest about wanting you. I m as 
 earnest, too, in wanting to protect you. I don t pro 
 pose to hold my tongue when I find that you re trust 
 ing in a man that s knifing you behind your back." 
 
 Her voice rang with pride and scorn as she rose, 
 saying, "I don t care to discuss the matter further, 
 Blanchard." 
 
 "Not when I say that I have seen notes in Grant- 
 hope s own handwriting that were given to a medium 
 as a part of a deliberate scheme ? These notes were on 
 definite things he had learned, I m sure, from his con 
 versations with you. Some of them are personal mat 
 ters that I m sure you wouldn t at all care to have 
 made public. You could easily prove it if you saw 
 them." 
 
 She had lost courage again, and hesitated, staring 
 at him. 
 
 Then she said, freezing, "Let me see them, then. If 
 you re determined to have a scene, you may as well 
 follow the rules of melodrama." 
 
 "I can t show them, because this medium wouldn t 
 
440 THE HEART LINE 
 
 let them out of his possession. But I can get him to 
 let you see them, if you like." 
 
 "You say they are about things we that I talked 
 about?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Things about me ?" 
 
 "Yes. I forget all of them. I had only a moment s 
 glance." 
 
 For some moments she stood silent. Then she 
 spoke swiftly. "I don t believe it. He couldn t do 
 such a thing!" 
 
 "My dear Cly, you must remember that one s whole 
 mental evolution is merely the history of the conflict 
 between reason and instinct, and reason is bound to 
 win in the end. That s the way we develop. The 
 fact is, he could do it and did do it. He s a charlatan 
 and he has used a charlatan s methods. I said he was 
 clever. This giving up his studio was merely a kind 
 of gambit. But he made a mistake when he tried to 
 use a lot of cheap fakirs to help him out with you." 
 
 "Oh!" She clenched her fists. "Don t! I won t 
 stand it!" Her head dropped as if she were weary. 
 Her eyes burned. 
 
 "Oh, there s good in everybody, the copy-books say," 
 he returned. "But the fact is, Cly, he isn t in your 
 class, and never was. You should have seen that !" 
 
 She looked at him without seeing him, her eyes 
 caught meaninglessly by the garnet in his tie, clinging 
 to it, as if it were the only real thing in the world. 
 Her lips parted, the color was leaving her cheeks, 
 she looked as frail as a ghost. Suddenly she threw 
 off her reverie, and placing her hand on his arm, said, 
 "Let me see them the notes Blanchard. There 
 
THE REENTRANT ANGLE 441 
 
 must be some horrid mistake. I want to clear it up. 
 immediately." 
 
 "Very well, I ll take you now, if you like. It isn t 
 far." 
 
 She followed him out of the library as if hypnotized. 
 They spoke little on the way. Cayley tried his best to 
 arouse her, but finally gave it up as impossible. He 
 watched her, preserving his usual phlegmatic calm. 
 She walked with head erect, her chin forward, with her 
 long, graceful gait, beside him, but never seemed two 
 human beings further apart in spirit. 
 
 Flora Flint opened the door to Vixley s flat. She 
 acted quite as if she belonged there and invited them 
 in cordially, with an up-and-down scrutiny of Clytie 
 as they passed in. Then she disappeared down the 
 long, tunnel-like hall. Cayley took Clytie into the of 
 fice where, refusing a chair, she stood like a statue, 
 her eyes fixed on the door. 
 
 Vixley entered, currying his beard with his long 
 fingers. "Well, Mr. Cayley," he said, "what can we 
 do for you? Like a sitting?" 
 
 "Professor, you recall telling me something about 
 some memoranda Granthope gave you, don t you?" 
 
 "I been thinkin about that, Mr. Cayley, and I don t 
 know as I ought to have said anything. I m rather 
 inclined to regret it." 
 
 "You have said something, and I ve brought this 
 lady down to show the memoranda to her," said Cay- 
 ley. 
 
 "H m!" Vixley looked her over. "It ain t exactly 
 customary to show things like that, you know." 
 
 "We ve had all that out before. I m here to see 
 those cards." 
 
442 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Vixley drew up a rocking-chair for Clytie, and 
 seated himself on the edge of the revolving chair in 
 front of his desk, putting the tips of his long fingers 
 together. "Francis Granthope is a bright young man," 
 he said, "a very bright young man. Very painstak 
 ing, and very thorough. I won t say he ain t a leetle 
 bit unscrupulous, however. A man who ain t got no 
 psychic influence behind him has got to do some pretty 
 good guessin . Now you go to work and take me, with 
 my control, Theodore Parker, and his band o spirits, 
 I don t need to bother much. I can get all I want out 
 of the other plane. I ain t sayin nothin against 
 Granthope, except maybe that he uses methods, some 
 times, that ain t exactly legitimate, such as what I was 
 tellin you about." 
 
 "How did he happen to give you these notes?" Cly 
 tie asked. 
 
 "Why, I s pose he expected me to give him an equiv 
 alent in return. I will say I have helped him out, 
 at times, feelin* rather predisposed toward him, and 
 him bein a likely chap. But Lord, / don t need his 
 help! And so I told him. In this case I didn t feel 
 called upon to give away none of my client s affairs. 
 Naturally he got a little huffy about it, and he s acted 
 so that I m inclined to resent it. I can t bear anything 
 like ingratitude." 
 
 He opened his desk and took from a pigeonhole two 
 cards. He handed them to Clytie. 
 
 "I was tellin Mr. Cayley, here, I knew about Grant- 
 hope and his methods. It ll show you what a poor 
 business this palm-readin reely is. Lord, they ain t 
 nothin in it at all ! If anybody wants to know anything 
 about the future the only way to do is to establish 
 
THE REENTRANT ANGLE 443 
 
 communications with the spirit-plane through the well- 
 known and well-tried methods of spiritualism." 
 
 Clytie was not listening. Her eyes were upon the 
 cards. She looked and looked, reading and re-read 
 ing, her face set in tense lines, the notes in Granthope s 
 fine, closely written hand. There it was, as he had set 
 it down: 
 
 Oliver Payson, b. Oct. 2nd, 1842. b. d. present from dau., 
 bound copy of Montaigne 1900. Tattoo mark anchor on 
 right arm, near shoulder. Writing a book. Economics (?) 
 Knew Mad. Grant ( ?) Wife visited Mad. G. x. v. p. 
 
 Clytie Payson. Engaged to Blanchard Cayley (?) Mole, 
 left cheek. Ring with "Clytie" inside. Turquoises. Claims 
 psychic power. Clairv. Goes to Merc. Lib. afternoons at 3. 
 Buried doll under sun-dial in garden. 
 
 As she came to the last line she dropped the card 
 from her fingers. She had become a woman of ice. 
 
 Vixley picked up the card and smiled, showing 
 his yellow teeth. "Kind of a give-away, ain t it? / 
 call his work lumpy/ 
 
 "I hope you re convinced now," Cayley added. 
 
 She turned her head slowly, deliberately, to the Pro 
 fessor. "When did Mr. Granthope give you this 
 card?" 
 
 "Oh, I dunno, exactly, he s gave me so much, one 
 time or another. About two weeks ago, I should 
 judge. Why?" 
 
 "I m very much obliged to you." Her voice came 
 as if from an immense distance. Then she nodded 
 to Cayley, who rose. 
 
 "Nothin* more I could do, is they? Wouldn t you 
 like to try a sittin . Miss ?" Vixley asked with urbanity. 
 
444 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Thank you, no." Clytie walked out slowly, with 
 out another look at him, like a somnambulist. 
 Vixley hastened to escort her to the front door, 
 and opened it. 
 
 Cayley gave him a look. It was returned. Vixley 
 bowed. Clytie went out. 
 
 "Are you going over to North Beach?" Cayley 
 inquired. "I ll walk up to the car with you." 
 
 "I ll go alone, I think." 
 
 "Oh, very well but " 
 
 "Good afternoon. You ll have to excuse me, Blan- 
 chard." 
 
 "All right. Good day." 
 
 She strode off, leaving him there. 
 
 She walked all the way home, and walked fast, her 
 head held high, looking straight ahead of her. She 
 took the steep hills with hardly a slackening of her 
 speed, breasting the upward inclines energetically, 
 leaning forward with grace. Up Nob Hill and 
 down she went, along the saddle, up Russian Hill and 
 over, without her customary pause to enjoy the glori 
 ous outlooks. Under her arm she still carried the book 
 from the library which she had forgotten to put down 
 when first Blanchard Cayley spoke to her. She held 
 it automatically, apparently not knowing that it was 
 there. With it she gripped her glove ; her right hand 
 was still bare, clenching her skirt. 
 
 She turned into her street at last, and climbed the 
 wooden steps, into the garden. As she went up the 
 path, her eyes lighted upon the sun-dial. She stopped 
 and looked at it for a moment fixedly. Then into the 
 house, up-stairs to her room, to throw herself upon 
 the bed . 
 
THE REENTRANT ANGLE 445 
 
 The wind had risen and blew gustily about the 
 house. Her shutter banged at intervals. The noise 
 kept up till she rose, opened the window and fas 
 tened back the blind, and went back to her bed. There 
 she lay, staring, with her eyes wide open . . . 
 
 Her father did not come home that evening. At 
 half-past seven she got up again, washed her face, 
 arranged her hair, and went down-stairs to eat dinner 
 alone. Afterward she stepped out into the garden. 
 The wind billowed her skirts, fretted her hair into a 
 swirl of tawny brown, cooled her cheeks. For an 
 hour she walked up and down in the dark. The har 
 bor was thick with mist. The siren on Lime Point 
 sobbed across the Gate intermittently . . . 
 
 Later, she went into the library and sat down with 
 a book beside the fire. For a half-hour she did not 
 turn a page, but remained quiescent, gazing at the 
 flames . . . 
 
 At ten she went up to her workroom, lighted the 
 gas, and took out her tools. For two hours she 
 sewed leaves on her frame, working as if automati 
 cally. Her gaze was intent ; one would have said that 
 she was completely absorbed in her task. Slowly the 
 sheets piled, one on another, each stitched to the back 
 with deft strokes. Finally the whole volume was com 
 pleted. She bound up the loose threads and put the 
 book away. Then she heated her irons, got out her 
 gold-leaf and spent an hour tooling a calf cover, press 
 ing in roses and circles and stipples while her lips were 
 sternly set. She arose, then, and looked out into 
 the night . . . 
 
446 THE HEART LINE 
 
 She undressed at last and went to bed. Long after 
 midnight there was a sound below of her father com 
 ing in. His footsteps went to and fro for a 
 time, then they came up-stairs. His door was closed 
 softly. There was no sound, now, but the ticking of 
 her little clock, and, occasionally, the far-away echo of 
 a steamer s whistle, and the dreary note of the siren. 
 She tossed uneasily. The clock struck one, two, three, 
 four. Then the wind began to sing round the corner 
 of the house as the gale rose. The noise was sooth 
 ingly monotonous, hypnotic, anesthetic . . . 
 
 At breakfast she was cool, serene, quiet, showing no 
 traces of her emotion. She talked with her father, 
 laughed with him, as usual, flying from one topic to 
 another, never serious. As he got up to go, she 
 remarked : 
 
 "Father, I think I ll go up to Sacramento to visit 
 Mrs. Maxwell at Lonely a few days. I ve put it off 
 so long, and she s been after me again to come. She s 
 up there all alone." 
 
 "All right, Cly. I saw her down-town, day before 
 yesterday, and she told me she was going to ask you." 
 
 Clytie frowned. "You did? Why didn t you tell 
 me ?" She looked at him for a moment curiously. He 
 seemed to wish to evade her question. Then she asked, 
 with emphasis, "Did you ask her to invite me?" 
 
 Mr. Payson hesitated. "Why, I told her that you 
 would probably accept " 
 
 She bit her lip, still frowning. "I understand. On 
 account of Mr. Granthope, I presume?" 
 
 "Well, I thought it would be just as well for you 
 to take a little vacation." 
 
THE REENTRANT ANGLE 447 
 
 Clyde said nothing. Mr. Payson lingered, ill at ease 
 in the face of her implications. At last he looked at 
 her over his spectacles and said petulantly: "I ve 
 been surprised at you, Cly, really. I have been 
 considerably worried, as well. I m afraid you ve 
 compromised yourself seriously by having been seen 
 so much with Granthope. I haven t spoken of it, 
 before, because I had already said all I could to you. 
 You knew very well what my wishes were in the mat 
 ter and it seems you ve seen fit to disregard them." 
 
 Clytie still kept silent, listening to him calmly. He 
 had worked himself up by his own words to an irasci 
 ble pitch, but her non-resistance balked his temper, 
 and it oozed away, as he continued. 
 
 "I hope this trip will give you a chance to think 
 it well over, Cly, and I have no doubt that you ll come 
 to see it as I do." 
 
 "Oh, I ll think it over," she replied listlessly. 
 
 Mr. Payson, having won his point in getting her out 
 of town, shook his head without replying, and pre 
 pared to leave the room. 
 
 But Clytie continued. "At least, I am sure he was 
 sincere in warning you against those mediums you 
 are going to, father." 
 
 He turned to her, his irritability rekindled by her 
 remark. "That s exactly what I most dislike about 
 the man," he exclaimed. "If he hadn t attempted to 
 prejudice me against them I might believe in his own 
 change of heart, or whatever it was. But he went 
 back on the very people with whom he s been asso 
 ciated for years. Isn t that suspicious?" 
 
 "Didn t he do that to save you from their tricks?" 
 Her voice was low and evidently troubled ; she seemed 
 
448 THE HEART LINE 
 
 to be attempting to convince herself, rather than her 
 father. 
 
 "I notice he didn t explain how they managed to 
 give me my tests," Mr. Payson retorted, shaking his 
 head emphatically. "He seemed to consider me the 
 most simple and credulous person in the world. His 
 statements, at least those he dared to make, were all 
 general ones, and they implied that I was not old 
 enough, or else, perhaps, too old to .sift the evidence 
 for myself. They were positively insulting. These 
 mediums have given me proof enough to convince 
 any one. They ve told me things that couldn t pos 
 sibly have been found out by any tricks. Take that 
 about your giving me a copy of Montaigne for my 
 birthday, for instance. How could they have found 
 that out? You hadn t told any one about it, had you?" 
 
 "No," said Clytie faintly. 
 
 "There you are, then!" Mr. Payson wagged his 
 head solemnly. "What did I tell you ?" 
 
 "What else did they say?" Clytie asked anxiously. 
 
 "Plenty of things. Things I myself didn t know the 
 truth about till I investigated. Things about my per 
 sonal affairs, about my past life oh, so much that 
 I can t help feeling that there s something in this 
 business that we don t understand. Oh !" he paused 
 for a moment, looking at her "there was one thing 
 I wanted to ask you about I forgot to speak of it. 
 It sounded like nonsense, at the time you know that 
 even spirits are sometimes frivolous and inconsequent 
 and there were so many other more important com 
 munications at the time that it slipped my mind. Vix- 
 ley s control said something once about a doll that was 
 buried underneath " 
 
THE REENTRANT ANGLE 449 
 
 "Oh, I forgot to ring up Mrs. Maxwell," Gytie 
 interrupted, springing up. "I must tell her I m com 
 ing. If I don t do it right away now I may not catch 
 her it takes so long to get a long distance connec 
 tion." 
 
 She went up to him and putting her arms round 
 his neck, kissed him. "Don t wait, father, if you re 
 in a hurry. Good-by!" 
 
 She walked to the door. 
 
 "Well, then, I ll go along down-town," he said. "Be 
 sure and write when you get up there." 
 
 She left him hurriedly and ran up-stairs. 
 
 At ten she was at the ferry, waiting for the boat 
 which connected with the Sacramento train. There 
 was a crowd going, coming and waiting in the long ar 
 cade outside. As she approached the ticket office a man 
 was at the window. He was tall, dark-haired, distin 
 guished. At sight of him, Gytie withdrew out of 
 sight, and let him finish his business and leave. Then 
 she approached, bought her ticket, and, watching 
 sharply, dodging behind groups here and there, she 
 succeeded in passing the ticket collector and losing 
 herself in the assembly in the waiting-room without 
 being observed. She wormed her way forward near 
 the gate, and with the first rush of passengers, after 
 the gate was raised, hurried on to the boat and went 
 immediately into the ladies room. 
 
 On the other side she acted as cautiously. She 
 remained till almost the last passenger had left the 
 boat, then walked swiftly through the train-shed to 
 her car. For an hour, as the train sped on, she scarce 
 ly looked to the right or the left. 
 
450 THE HEART LINE 
 
 The train slowed up at Stockton, and stopped. Cly- 
 tie looked carelessly out of the window. Just as the 
 train started again, Granthope appeared on the plat 
 form. He went up to a cab-driver and began talking. 
 Clytie, flushing deeply, watched him so intensely that 
 at last, as if attracted by some mental telepathy, he 
 looked round and caught sight of her. His hat came 
 off to her immediately. He gave a quick glance at the 
 now rapidly moving train, as if intending to board it, 
 then he gave it up as impossible. Cly tie s eyes lost 
 him, and she was carried on. It was a long time 
 before the color faded from her cheeks. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 TIT FOR TAT 
 
 Professor Vixley had prepared his campaign with 
 Mr. Pay son with the scientific delight of an engineer. 
 His cunning was not too low to prevent his love of 
 the sport for the sport s sake, and his elaborations 
 and by-plays were undertaken with relish and enthusi 
 asm. The pleasure was vastly heightened for him by 
 the character of his dupe. Mr. Payson was a figure 
 in the community, a man of weight and influence. He 
 had an established position and an assured wealth. 
 Heavy and slow, mentally, he had the dignified respec 
 tability that is usually associated with business success. 
 
 In the mental manipulation of such a personage 
 Vixley felt a sense of power as enjoyable as the 
 pecuniary reward. The dwarf, socially, led the giant. 
 
 He had his charge, by this time, well in hand. The 
 old gentleman s ponderous mentality had been man 
 aged like an ocean steamship lying at the dock. One 
 by one the lines of doubt and distrust and prejudice 
 had been released. It was now time to fire his intel 
 lectual boilers. By means of their tricks, eavesdrop 
 ping methods and clever guess-work, and with Cay- 
 ley s help, they had fed him fuel for the imagination 
 until now he was roused to a dynamic, enthusiastic 
 belief in spiritualism, or that version of it which best 
 suited their ends. Captain and pilot were aboard and 
 in command. It remained but to ring up the engines, 
 turn over the wheel and get under way for the voyage. 
 
 451 
 
452 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Many another such argosy had been fitted out and had 
 sailed forth from their brains, to return laden with 
 treasure. There was hazard of collision or shipwreck, 
 but the only obstacle now in view was Granthope, 
 and Vixley felt sure that he could be blown out of 
 the way with the explosion of a few scandals. 
 
 Mr. Payson s mind had an inertia which, once suc 
 cessfully overcome, was transformed to momentum. 
 He was as credulous, as responsive, as influenced by 
 the specious logic of the medium as if he had never 
 been a skeptic. Vixley s next move was to realize 
 financially on Payson s vanity and literary aspirations. 
 
 The ensuing series of communications from "Feli 
 cia," automatically transcribed by Vixley, developed 
 the fact Mr. Payson s book would meet with disas 
 trous competition from an unknown author who was 
 working upon the same subject in Chicago. Such a 
 publication would, in the eyes of any publisher, materi 
 ally affect the value of a San Francisco book. Some 
 thing must be done to prevent the rival work from 
 being printed. The first step necessary, Vixley as 
 serted, was to send a man to Chicago and investigate 
 the case and report upon it. This preliminary recon 
 naissance cost a considerable sum. Payson did not see 
 the emissary, for Vixley had warned him of the possi 
 bility of blackmail. "Felicia" now informed the sitter 
 that the aid of the spirit world could be invoked to 
 forestall the competing writer s efforts. 
 
 There was a band of spirits on the "third sphere," 
 it seemed, who, though usually maleficent, could be 
 placated. These "Diakkas" could, and possibly would, 
 exert certain magnetic or psychic powers so as to pre 
 vent competition. It was difficult, however, to win 
 
TIT FOR TAT 453 
 
 over spirits so fantastic as these, even when one had 
 established communication with them itself an intri 
 cate and dangerous process. The only safe way, Mr. 
 Payson was assured, was to create an atmosphere 
 pleasing to them, one which absorbed antagonistic 
 vibrations, and facilitated communication by intensi 
 fying the sitter s aura and rendering their acceptance 
 of earthly conditions easy. And so forth, through an 
 elaborate exposition. 
 
 The thing was accomplished by means of charging 
 the room with the perfume of ambergris. Ambergris, 
 however, was expensive. Mr. Payson had to pay fifty 
 dollars an ounce for his ; moreover, a fresh supply was 
 necessary for each seance as the material quickly 
 absorbed the deleterious psycho-physical elements of 
 the atmosphere, and became inert to vibration. Profes 
 sor Vixley divided this revenue with Madam Spoil, 
 but he could not divide his pleasure in his artful fic 
 tion. Madam Spoil was only a woman ; the artistic 
 niceties of the harlequinade were lost on her. 
 
 This could not, however, go on for ever, nor were 
 the two conspirators content to do business in so small 
 a way. Both were convinced that the only chance for 
 a large and permanent income lay in the production 
 of Payson s and Felicia s child, and they set about the 
 plan by which this should become remunerative. 
 
 Ringa was settled upon for the impersonation. He 
 was simple, easily taught and led ; he was willing. 
 He would be as easily managed when the time came 
 for a division of the profits of the enterprise. And 
 so, one day, Madam Spoil waddled out to Turk Street 
 to complete the negotiations. 
 
 Professor Vixley was bending over a small machine 
 
454 THE HEART LINE 
 
 with horizontal arms in the form of a cross, decorated 
 with mirrors, when she rang ; before opening the door 
 he covered the instrument with a black cloth and put 
 it on his roll-top desk by the type-writer. 
 
 Madam Spoil came in smiling, unruffled as if her 
 face had been freshly ironed out. 
 
 "I been walking lately, to reduce my flesh, but, Lord, 
 I get such an appetite I eat more n enough to balance," 
 she panted, as she lowered herself carefully upon the 
 quilted couch and crushed back into a sofa pillow, 
 whereon was painted a fencing girl with a heart on 
 her plastron. She loosened her beaded cape, and 
 breathed heavily in relief. 
 
 "Well, I managed to get here, after all! What 
 d you think? Mrs. Riley has been to me for a private 
 setting. Do you recall her, Vixley ? She s that wom 
 an who was tried for murdering her husband some 
 years back and was acquitted; or rather the jury was 
 hung. Anyways, she wasn t. But I believe she done 
 it. She s as nervous as a cat, and can t look you in 
 the face to save her soul. It seems that she knew 
 Madam Grant in the old days, and used to get readings 
 off her. I don t know but we could use her, someway." 
 
 "Has she got any money?" said the slate-writer. 
 
 "She keeps a boarding-house, I believe. It wouldn t 
 be much, but every little helps/ as the old lady said 
 when she spit into the harbor. I might work her for 
 five a week, I s pose, but now I think of it, Master- 
 son s doctoring her." 
 
 "Then they won t be much meat left on her bones !" 
 Vixley grinned. "But I ain t botherin* with landladies 
 till we finish with Payson. Did you see him yester 
 day?" 
 
TIT FOR TAT 455 
 
 "I did, and he said he d give a thousand dollars if 
 we d find the boy. I shouldn t wonder if he d pay 
 more if we work it right, not to speak of what we get 
 from Ringa when he s fixed." 
 
 "Lord! A thousand dollars for Ringa! Wouldn t 
 that make you seasick?" Vixley cackled, slapping his 
 claw-like hand on his knee. "I say, Gertie, we ought 
 to get a couple of good crockery teeth put in his 
 jaw first, or the old man will want to return him for 
 shop-worn. Ringa as Mr. Max Payson, Esquire ! Gee 
 whizz ! I want to be there when the old gent falls on 
 his neck and kills the fatted calf!" 
 
 "I ve known a heap of worse boys than Max Ringa 
 to have for a son," Madam Spoil said, a little irritated. 
 "You go to work and wash him and dress him up in 
 a Prince Albert and I don t know why he won t do as 
 well as anybody." 
 
 "Oh, he ll do he ll do elegant! He ll do Payson, 
 anyways, and that s all we want." 
 
 "Oh, I m going to teach him to jump through the 
 hoop all right He ll be doing the papa s darling act 
 so natural you ll think he d always slep in a bed!" 
 She chuckled now till she shook like a jelly-fish. 
 "He s just crazy about it. Says he ll come down and 
 take me to ride in his automobile car. Why, Payson 
 will be good for all sorts of money if Ringa works him 
 right. He ought to get an allowance of two or three 
 hundred a month if the old man s got any proper feel 
 ings as a father." 
 
 "It s more n likely he ll pay Ringa to stay away," 
 Vixley remarked cynically. "I ve seen these here fond 
 parents before. I don t seem to see Ringa doin soci 
 ety somehow. He d be tryin to blow the foam off 
 
456 THE HEART LINE 
 
 his champagne and chewin* tobacco in the ball-room 
 the first thing. But he ll do for a starter. If worse 
 comes to worst we can hold the old man up to keep the 
 story dark and then there s the weeklies, they 
 wouldn t mind gettin hold of it." 
 
 "Say!" Madam Spoil suddenly exclaimed, "what s 
 become of Fancy Gray, now that Frank has thrown 
 her down?" 
 
 "Why, ain t you heard ? She s took up with this fel 
 low Cayley." 
 
 "No!" Madam Spoil s eyes were opened wide at 
 the bit of gossip. "What s he up to with her, any 
 way ?" 
 
 "Why, I expect he s trying to use her someway, so s 
 to queer Frank s game with Miss Payson. Fancy 
 knows all about Frank, if she can be induced to tell. 
 If Cayley can show Frank up, he stands a better show 
 to catch Miss Payson himself. At least, that s the 
 way I figure it. I ain t got no idea that Cayley cares 
 a rap for Fancy, but he s smooth, and as long as he can 
 use her he ll keep her jollied along." 
 
 The Madam had been thinking hard. "Fancy ought 
 to be pretty sore on Frank," she offered. 
 
 "I don t blame her. He s treated her bad." 
 
 "And there s no doubt about her being stuck on 
 Cayley?" 
 
 "It certainly looks like it; she s with him all the 
 time." 
 
 "Well, then, what s the matter with getting Cayley 
 to work her so she can help us out with Payson? I 
 believe we could use her good. She s a saucy chit, and 
 she makes me tired with her fly-up-the-creek impu 
 dence; but all the same, she s clever, and if Cayley 
 
TIT FOR TAT 457 
 
 could only induce her to go into it, I can see lots 
 of ways she could help." 
 
 Vixley thought over the matter for a few minutes in 
 silence. "All right, Gertie, I ll speak to him about it. 
 I guess he ll do it; he ll be afraid not to. We got 
 him pretty well tied up, now." 
 
 "You can promise him that Felicia will recommend 
 that he marries the girl. That ll be an inducement. * 
 
 "I m afraid the Payson girl has got something to 
 say about that herself, from all I hear." 
 
 "Well, at any rate, we ve queered Frank Granthope, 
 and that s what Cayley wanted most." 
 
 "I guess so; at least, that s what I make out from 
 what he says. He s pretty close-mouthed." 
 
 "Well, if he ain t close-mouthed about Payson, he 
 can tend to his own affairs alone, for all I care. Has 
 he gave you any more dope?" 
 
 "Has he ! Why, he s been a-ringin of me up every 
 day, tippin me off to everything the old man s up to !" 
 
 "You ain t let on anything about this child business 
 to Cayley, have you?" 
 
 "D you think I want to queer the whole game? 
 Of course not. Why, Cayley would be scared that 
 the daughter wouldn t get any of the money if he 
 knew they was another heir. All the same, we got to 
 be careful of Cayley, for he certainly has helped con 
 siderable. The old man wouldn t be where we got 
 him now if Cayley hadn t shown up. What d you 
 think he told me this mornin ? Payson s been round 
 to a lot of printers, gettin estimates on the book, so s 
 he can publish it hisself! Ain t that a gall? He 
 never asked my advice about it! I m going to give 
 him a dig about that." 
 
458 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, well, let s get down to business, I ain t got 
 any too much time," Madam Spoil interrupted. 
 "About the materializing, now. We got to have a 
 private seance, of course?" 
 
 Vixley rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and 
 lifted himself up and down on his toes as he gazed 
 at her. "I been a-thinkin it over, Gert, and I come 
 to the conclusion that it ain t best. Payson ain t pre 
 pared for it yet, and we got to go easy. He ain t 
 actually convinced of physical mediumship yet, as it is. 
 I think we better spring it on him at a public. Flora 
 can pack the room with believers and cappers, and 
 then, after Payson s seen a lot of other folks recog- 
 nizin spirits and gettin messages, why, he ll be more 
 inclined to swallow his test. I ve made a study of 
 him, and that s my opinion." 
 
 "Has Flora got plenty of help?" 
 
 "She wants one more girl to play spirit, for she s 
 just lost a dandy she had she was arrested for shop- 
 liftin , I believe. We can fix her up, though. There s 
 your Miss French, for one." 
 
 "I don t trust her much, but she ll do on a pinch. 
 But Perry we must have. It s better to use our own 
 people. Who s Flora s cabinet control?" 
 
 "Little Starlight. Flora does her with a telescope 
 rod. Oh, Flora s slick! She s a cracker jack of a ven 
 triloquist she s got at least six good voices !" 
 
 "How does she work, now ? From the front seats ?" 
 
 "No, mostly through the foldin doors. As soon 
 as the room is dark and the singin has commenced 
 she has the door rolled back the wrong way about a 
 foot, and her players come in that way. They don t 
 show against the black cloth, and they s no danger at 
 
TIT FOR TAT 459 
 
 all, for if anybody wants to examine the cabinet they 
 ain t no panels nor nothing to be exposed. Flora s 
 just got up a grand disappearance act, she tells me. 
 She wears a white petticoat and her overskirt is lined 
 with white. When she comes out of the cabinet her 
 skirt is lifted up and wrapped round her head inside- 
 out, as natural as life. Then she gradually lowers it 
 and the whole form slowly disappears down to the 
 ground like a snow-man meltin in the sun. No, sir, 
 you can t beat that girl, not in this town !" 
 
 "Vixley, I don t see no end to this graft. Why, 
 after we ve materialized we can etherealize, can t we ?" 
 
 "Yes, and then we ll develop him till he don t know 
 where he s at." 
 
 "And spirit-pictures, too. Felicia ll take a grand 
 photograph !" 
 
 "You bet. I m going to try them big cloth ones 
 that you spray with prussiate o potash. You can get 
 blue, yeller, and brown fine. I been workin on it 
 already." 
 
 A ring at the front door-bell interrupted her 
 colloquy. Vixley tiptoed to the window and peeped 
 out; then he turned with a scowl. 
 
 "It s Doc Masterson. What the devil does he 
 want, anyway?" 
 
 "No good, I ll bet," she replied. 
 
 "I got to let him in, I s pose. It won t do to send 
 him away, the old snake-in-the-grass. He s too 
 smooth !" 
 
 "Oh, I ain t afraid of him. I wan t born yester 
 day," was her contemptuous reply. 
 
 "All the same, you be careful what you say to him, 
 Gert," Vixley cautioned, as he went out into the hall. 
 
460 THE HEART LINE 
 
 He reappeared with the doctor. Madam Spoil 
 smiled sweetly. 
 
 Doctor Masterson greeted her with a sour ex 
 pression, and shook hands limply. He sat down de 
 liberately, and, pulling out a soiled silk handkerchief, 
 wiped his creased forehead and his bald pate. Then 
 he cleaned his iron-bowed spectacles, blinking his 
 red eyes as he breathed on the lenses. 
 
 Vixley, from the organ bench, watched him 
 shrewdly, and offered him a cigar. 
 
 "No, thanks, I don t smoke," said the doctor 
 peevishly. 
 
 "Since when?" Vixley asked in surprise. 
 
 "Since you give me that last Flor de Chinatown/ 
 or whatever it was. When I want to smoke rag 
 carpets again I ll try another." He showed his black 
 teeth in a vicious grin. 
 
 Vixley tittered. "What s wrong, Doc? Looks like 
 you had a grouch. Been takin too much of Hasan- 
 doka s medicine lately? You didn t come round here 
 to look a gift-horse in the mouth, did you?" 
 
 The doctor cleared his throat and pulled down his 
 plaid waistcoat. "No, I didn t. But I didn t come 
 round for to give you any hot air, neither ! I m glad 
 I struck Madam Spoil here, for what I got to say may 
 interest her, too." 
 
 "Spit it out and get rid of it, then," said Vixley; 
 "don t mind us." 
 
 "The fact is," said Masterson, "you ain t neither of 
 you treated me square. I fully expected to be in on 
 this Payson game, from what you led me to believe, 
 and you not only let me out with only a month s work, 
 but you ve shut me off from the main graft." 
 
TIT FOR TAT 461 
 
 Madam Spoil fired up. "We never told you we was 
 going to whack up with you, at all ! Seems to me 
 you got considerable nerve to try and butt in ! Who s 
 running this thing, anyway? You got all that s com 
 ing to you. We ain t never took him into partnership, 
 Vixley, have we?" 
 
 "I ain t seen no contrack to that effect You 
 ain t got no call to complain, Doc; they ain t enough 
 in it for three. Payson ain t loosened up enough for 
 us to retire on it, yet." 
 
 Masterson s thin lips drew back like a hound s, to 
 show his fangs. His Adam s apple rose and fell above 
 his celluloid collar, as he swallowed his irritation. 
 "Oh, very well," he said quickly. "Of course, if you 
 want to freeze me out, you can. But I don t call it a 
 square deal. I was the one what got him going, 
 wan t I? Didn t I do my part all right? I under 
 stand you re going to materialize him and develop 
 him, and the Lord knows what-all. I don t see why 
 you can t find room for me, somewhere." 
 
 "You ought to be thankful for what you got out 
 of it!" Madam Spoil exclaimed. "Lord, we didn t 
 have to take you on at all! They s plenty of others 
 we could have used. You re three hundred ahead of the 
 game as it stands, and that s more than you ve ever 
 made in six months, before. Don t be a hog!" 
 
 "That s a nice thing for you to say," he sneered. 
 "When I get up to two hundred pounds I ll begin to 
 worry about that" 
 
 Vixley interfered craftily. "We ll think it over and 
 let you know, Doc; we may be able to use you, per 
 haps, but we can t tell yet a while not till we see 
 how this thing turns out." 
 
462 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Madam Spoil broke in again, shaking her fat finger 
 at him. "Don t you believe it, Masterson! Me and 
 Vixley can work this thing alone, and you better keep 
 your nose out of our business ! If you come here look 
 ing for trouble, you can find it, fast enough! * 
 
 Vixley winked at her, but she was too angry to 
 notice it. Masterson rose stiffly and faced her, his 
 thumbs caught in the armholes of his plaid waistcoat. 
 "All right," he said. "I ain t going to get down 
 on to my knees to you. But the next time I m asked 
 for a good clairvoyant, it won t be you. I only ask 
 what s fair, and I didn t come here for to be insulted." 
 
 "Oh, get on to yourself!" Vixley said, taking him 
 by the arm. "Nobody ain t insulted you. You can t 
 blame us if we want to do this our own way, can you ?" 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders and took a few 
 steps toward the door. "You may think better of it 
 when you talk it over," he hinted darkly. "You may 
 see my side of it. Good afternoon, Madam Spoil, I 
 won t take no more of your valuable time." He 
 walked out. 
 
 "You was a fool, Gert," said Vixley, after the 
 door slammed. "It won t do to let him get down on 
 us. He knows too much." 
 
 "Pooh!" she flouted, bridling. "I ain t afraid of 
 Masterson, nor anybody like him. He ain t got 
 enough blood in his neck to do anything. He just 
 came round here like a pan-handler to see if we 
 wouldn t give him a poke-out. I ll see him further!" 
 
 "I ain t so sure," Vixley replied, rubbing his beard 
 thoughtfully. "My rule is, don t make no enemies if 
 you can help it. But of course we got to cut him 
 
TIT FOR TAT 463 
 
 Madam Spoil subsided and changed the subject. 
 "Have you got that developing machine yet?" she 
 asked, her eyes roving about the room. 
 
 He walked to the desk and carried the machine to 
 the small table in front of her. Taking off the cloth 
 he disclosed the revolving mirrors actuated by clock 
 work. It was much like the instrument first used by 
 Braid in his experiments with mesmerism. He wound 
 the spring and set the mirrors in motion. They 
 whirled madly in their circle, casting flashes of light. 
 
 "That s the way it works you just stare at it 
 hard. I guess that will hold Payson a while. He s 
 got the scientific bug enough to like this sort of 
 thing." 
 
 Madam Spoil put her elbow on the table and rested 
 her head on her hand, gazing, fascinated, at the flash 
 of the revolving mirrors. As the machine began to 
 whir, the canary in the cage by the window began 
 warbling in an ecstasy of song. Vixley swore at the 
 bird, and then, as it refused to stop, took down the 
 cage and walked to the door with it. 
 
 "I guess that ll bring Felicia, all right, won t it?" 
 he said as he went out of the room, leaving Madam 
 Spoil transfixed, lulled and charmed by the flying 
 mirrors. 
 
 He was gone longer than he intended ; it was seven 
 or eight minutes before he returned, whistling through 
 his teeth. He turned into the front room and stopped 
 in astonishment. 
 
 Madam Spoil was standing beside the machine, 
 which had now run down. Her eyes stared blankly 
 at the desk, one hand clutched her breast, the other 
 was raised, as if to put something away from her. 
 
464 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Her little low-crowned Derby hat had fallen partly 
 off and hung on one side of her head. She stared, 
 without speaking, her face set with an expression of 
 terror. 
 
 "For Heaven s sake, Gert, what s the matter?" he 
 cried. 
 
 She turned her eyes slowly toward him, shuddered, 
 sighed, and her hands fell together. Then her face 
 lighted up in a frenzy. "My God, Vixley, I got it! 
 I got it ! After all these years !" 
 
 "Got what, you crazy fool? The jimjams?" 
 
 "I got materializing I got a spirit! She was 
 right over there by the desk a woman with white 
 hair, it was, and she give me a message!" 
 
 "Rats!" Vixley was contemptuous. He took her 
 hand and gave her a little shake. "Is that all? I 
 guess you was hypnotized, Gert, that s all. That s 
 what I got this jigger for, only I never thought you d 
 be one to go off half-cock like that !" 
 
 "Vixley," she said emphatically, "don t you be a 
 fool ! I see a spirit for the first time in my life, and 
 you can t make me believe I didn t. And I know who 
 it was, now. It was Felicia Grant, as I m a sinner, 
 and she came to warn me about Payson. Oh, you 
 can laugh; I s pose I would if I was you, but this 
 was the real thing, sure !" 
 
 She reseated herself on the sofa and put her hands 
 to her eyes. Vixley sat on the arm of the Morris 
 chair and laughed loudly. "Well, well!" he ex 
 claimed, "if that ain t a good one! Spirit, was it? 
 Well, I guess if it ll work on Gertie Spoil it ll work on 
 Payson, all right. Oh, Lord!" 
 
 She shook both hands wildly, almost hysterical with 
 
TIT FOR TAT 465 
 
 excitement, the tears flowing. "My God! We can t 
 go on with Payson now. I don t dare to. I m fright 
 ened." 
 
 "Oh, you just got an attack of nerves, that s all. 
 You ll get over it and laugh at it. You keep still and 
 cool off." 
 
 She wagged her head solemnly, unconscious of her 
 hanging hat. "See here, Vixley, you know me! 
 I m too old a bird to be fooled with fakes I ve done 
 too much of that myself. I ve always claimed that I 
 had clairvoyance, but I lied. I never got that nor 
 clairaudience, no matter how I tried for it, and I ve 
 had to fake. I ve had a gift o guessing, perhaps, 
 but that s all. But I swear to God, I got materializing 
 just now. I ve scoffed at it all my life, but I believe it 
 now. I see her just as soon as you left, standing 
 right over there by the desk, she was, and she turned 
 to me and she says, If you persist you will come to 
 harm. Take my advice and don t you do it ! and then 
 she faded away. What d you s pose it means?" 
 
 "It means you need a drink," he said, and, walking 
 to the desk, he took out a whisky bottle and poured 
 out a stiff dose. "Them s the spirits that ll help you 
 most. You put this down and see how you feel !" 
 
 She put it away with an impatient gesture. "Oh, 
 3^ou don t believe it," she cried, "but I see her just as 
 plain as I see you this minute, and I heard her, too. 
 What ll I do, Vixley? I can t give up my business, 
 can I? I got to live." 
 
 "What s the matter with you ? I don t see as they s 
 anything to worry about, granted it was a spirit, which 
 it wasn t one, o course." 
 
 "She said, If you persist you will come to harm! 
 
466 THE HEART LINE 
 
 What else could that mean but Payson? Let s call 
 it all off, before anything happens." 
 
 "Bosh ! It ain t likely it meant Payson any more 
 than it did anything else. Why, the thing is as sim 
 ple as a rattle. Spirits be damned ! You leave that to 
 the suckers with money." 
 
 Although his incredulity and sneers prevented her 
 from actually withdrawing from the projected seance, 
 she was by no means restored to calmness. She gave 
 but a reluctant, distracted attention to his plans, and 
 talked little herself. She went home oppressed by 
 the sinister suggestions of her vision, muttering her 
 dread for the future. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE MATERIALIZING SEANCE 
 
 FLORA FLINT S Marvelous Spirit Messages 
 and Grand Materializing Test Seance To-night. 
 5oc. 5203 Van Ness Ave. Come, Skeptics. 
 
 Dougal pointed to this notice in the Call one night 
 at Fulda s. There were six at table; he and Mabel 
 and Elsie, Maxim, Starr and Benton. 
 
 Benton took up the paper, with a gleam in his eyes, 
 as one who smelled the battle from afar. Starr was 
 for going, most enthusiastically for it; he wanted 
 another chance of seeing Benton in action. Maxim 
 was always to be depended upon; he never refused 
 to go with the others. Elsie smiled and did not 
 commit herself to an opinion. She was a fatalist. If 
 things went well, she smiled. If they went wrong, 
 she was equally, perhaps even a little more, amused, 
 and smiled as enigmatically. Mabel giggled hys 
 terically; her eyes shone; she held up two fingers, 
 the sign of acquiescence. No project was too mad for 
 her to accept and welcome; the madder it was, the 
 more enthusiastic she grew. In her the spirit of 
 adventure still breathed. She was one to whom 
 things always happened, for she never refused Fate s 
 invitations. Fate, having invited her, usually saw 
 her through the affair with gallantry. She always es 
 caped unscathed, preserving all the freshness of her 
 enthusiasm and ingenuousness. No one credited her 
 with a history. 
 
 467 
 
4 68 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Their plan had been talked over and perfected for 
 some time. Mindful of Fancy s warning, it had been 
 decided to enter the place in two groups and find 
 seats near together, being careful to hold no com 
 munication with each other. 
 
 Dougal was captain of the proposed exposure. He 
 carried an electric torch and was to choose the 
 proper moment for attack. When he flashed the light 
 upon the spirit form and rushed forward to seize the 
 actor, Maxim was to follow at his heels and help, 
 while Starr and Benton "interfered" for him as in a 
 foot-ball game. The girls were to take care of them 
 selves and watch everything that went on so as to 
 report the affair. 
 
 There was no adjournment to Champoreau s that 
 night, for it was necessary to be at Flora Flint s early 
 and attempt to get front seats. Half-past seven found 
 them at the house on Van Ness Avenue, where they 
 divided, Mabel going in with Dougal and Maxim, 
 Elsie with Starr and Benton. 
 
 They went up a narrow staircase covered with yel 
 low oil-cloth and encountered, at the top, a long, 
 pale, tow-headed youth with two front teeth missing. 
 He was slouching in the hall, by a little table, as if 
 attempting to hide the tallness and awkwardness of 
 his figure. Collecting the entrance fees without a 
 word, he pointed to a door and the seats inside. 
 
 The room was square, and had two windows upon 
 the street; it was lighted dimly from a chandelier in 
 the center, and was crowded with chairs arranged 
 on each side of a central aisle. There were already a 
 score of visitors, and prominent in the second 
 row was Mr. Payson, solemnly calm, impassive, his 
 
THE MATERIALIZING SEANCE 469 
 
 hands upon the top of his cane. Vixley sat in front 
 and was conversing over the back of his chair with 
 Lulu Ellis. Dougal and his companions found seats 
 on the end of the fourth row; the others had to go 
 farther back. 
 
 Hung about were the usual mottoes, worked in 
 colored yarn on perforated cardboard, and, in addi 
 tion, a notice warning visitors against disorder. It 
 was evident that the materializing business was not 
 unattended with risks. The air was stuffy and smelt 
 of kerosene oil. A curtain of black cambric was 
 stretched across one corner of the room, between 
 the folding doors and the mantelpiece, opposite the 
 windows. The hangings parted in the center, and 
 were now draped up to each side, revealing the in 
 terior of the "cabinet." 
 
 Professor Vixley rose to announce that any one 
 wishing to examine the cabinet might do so, but no 
 body seemed to think the investigation worth while. 
 He then went on with an audible conversation with 
 the plump Miss Ellis. He described, first, the won 
 derful willingness of Little Starlight, who was fre 
 quently sent by Flora with astral messages to her 
 mother in Alaska. Lulu played up to him. She saw 
 spirits in the room already an old man was standing 
 by the door, looking for some one. Another spirit 
 was sitting down beside that young lady in green. 
 Vixley regretted that he couldn t "get" materializing 
 himself, though he had tried all his life. He had 
 occasionally "got" clairvoyance, but it couldn t be 
 depended upon. Clairaudience, of course, was easier. 
 It could be developed in any one who had patience. 
 With his revolving mirrors he could guarantee it in 
 
470 THE HEART LINE 
 
 a month. He handed one of his business cards to a 
 woman in black who seemed interested. 
 
 Flora Flint, pretty, dressed all in black, came in 
 and joined the conversation. She complained of being 
 tired and headachey, she had worked so hard that 
 day. She stroked her forehead and rubbed her hands, 
 but her eyes were busy with her audience. 
 
 She hoped that Stella wouldn t come to-night; 
 Stella always "took it out of her." That was always 
 the way with spirits who had lately "passed out," 
 and who were not yet reconciled to their condition. 
 Stella insisted upon coming back all the time to com 
 municate with her mother she was not only hindering 
 her own "progression" but worrying her mother by 
 so doing. Stella, moreover, had not yet learned the 
 Laws of Being on the spirit-plane, and had not accus 
 tomed herself to the principles of control. Why, it 
 was sometimes positive agony to be taken possession 
 of by Stella. She came in with a bounce like, and it 
 racked the medium all over ; and she didn t know how 
 to withdraw her fore gradually and easily the way 
 older spirits did. If Wampum, Flora s Indian control, 
 weren t always ready to assist her it would be some 
 thing terrible. Indians had special power over 
 physical conditions. They were Children of Nature, 
 nearer to earth conditions than others. They had more 
 magnetism, and knew the secrets of natural medicine. 
 Being simple creatures, they were more easily sum 
 moned from the spirit sphere they hadn t "pro 
 gressed" so far, and they were apt to be still actuated 
 by the motives and desires of the flesh-plane. Oh, yes, 
 they were often coarse and vulgar, but they meant 
 well, indeed they did. Wampum was a great help. 
 
THE MATERIALIZING SEANCE 471 
 
 As Flora Flint talked, her eyes ran over the room, 
 looking carefully at her audience. Some she bowed 
 to smilingly; on others her glance rested with more 
 deliberation. She came back again and again to 
 Dougal and Maxim, and to Starr and Benton, in the 
 rear of the room. She whispered to Vixley, after 
 this scrutiny, and he went out to hold a colloquy with 
 Ringa in the hall. Soon after, Mr. Spoil came in and 
 took a seat between the two groups of Pintos. He 
 sat rigidly erect, his thin, bony face impassive, with 
 only his wild eyes moving. 
 
 The Pintos listened with delight to Flora s jargon. 
 Starr, placing his note-book under his hat, on his 
 knees, made copious notes. Maxim was most im 
 pressed, almost persuaded by the seriousness of the 
 dialogue. Mabel was all ready to believe at the 
 first promise of a marvel. Elsie smiled, Benton 
 yawned, Dougal hugged his electric torch fondly in 
 side his coat. 
 
 Madam Spoil soon came in and seated herself be 
 tween the two windows, under a box containing a 
 lighted kerosene lamp. Her face, usually so com 
 placent, was showing signs of perturbation. She 
 was nervous, looking round every little while sud 
 denly, running her fingers through her short cropped 
 curly hair, throwing her head back as if she found it 
 hard to breathe. She was without a hat, and wore, 
 instead of her professional costume of silk and beads, 
 a black cotton crape gown. 
 
 Shortly after eight o clock, Flora took a chair in 
 front of the cabinet. Vixley rose, fastened black 
 shutters in front of the windows, closed the door, put 
 out the gas and turned down the lamp in the box, 
 
472 THE HEART LINE 
 
 shading it with a cloth curtain. The room was now 
 so dark that one could scarcely distinguish anything, 
 until, when eyes became somewhat accustomed to it, 
 figures indistinct and shadowy could be vaguely recog 
 nized. Flora Flint spoke: 
 
 "I must ask you all to keep perfect silence, please. 
 The spirits won t manifest themselves unless the con 
 ditions are favorable and the circle is in a receptive 
 state. We can t do anything unless there s harmony, 
 and if there s any antagonistic vibrations present 
 there s no use attempting anything in the way of 
 demonstration." 
 
 After this prologue, she began, accompanied by the 
 faithful, the dreariest tune in the world: 
 
 "We are waiting, we are waiting, we are waiting, just now, 
 Just now we are waiting, we are waiting just now; 
 
 To receive you, to receive you, to receive you just now, 
 Just now to receive you, to receive you just now. 
 
 Show your faces, show your faces, show your faces, just now, 
 Just now show your faces, show your faces just now! 
 
 Come and bless us, come and bless us, come " 
 
 The fourth stanza was here interrupted by three 
 sharp knocks. 
 
 "Is that you, Starlight?" the medium asked. Two 
 raps signified assent. "Are you happy, to-night?" 
 Two more knocks. 
 
 "Starlight s always happy!" Vixley remarked aloud. 
 
 "Yes, she is a bright little thing," the medium as 
 sented. "She passed out when she was only twelve ; 
 they say she s very pretty. Are there any spirits with 
 you, Starlight?" 
 
THE MATERIALIZING SEANCE 473 
 
 Two more raps. 
 
 "Who s there Wampum?" 
 
 Two raps were given with terrific force. Every 
 body laughed. 
 
 "Wampum s feeling pretty good, to-night," said 
 Vixley. 
 
 "Anybody else?" Flora asked. 
 
 Yes, some one else. 
 
 "Who? Is it Mr. Jorkins?" 
 
 Yes. 
 
 The voice of a little old dried-up lady on the front 
 row was heard, saying, "Oh, that s Willie! I m so 
 glad he s come. Are you happy, Willie?" 
 
 Yes, Willie was happy. Had he seen Nelly? Yes, 
 he had seen Nelly, and Nelly was also happy. And so, 
 for a time, it went on, like an Ollendorf lesson. 
 
 Starlight was then asked if she could not control 
 the medium, orally. She consented, and soon, in a 
 chirping voice the medium twittered forth: 
 
 "Hello! Good evenin , folkses! Oh, Fse so glad 
 to see you all, I is ! Hello, Mis Brickett, you s got a 
 new bonnet, isn t you? It s awfully nice! Oh, I se 
 so happy. I got some candy, too. It s spirit candy; 
 it s lots better n yours." Here she laughed shrilly 
 and the company snickered. 
 
 Mabel could scarcely hold herself in check and 
 had to be pinched. Starlight resumed her artless 
 prattle, with Vixley as interlocutor. The two ex 
 changed homely badinage and pretended to flirt des 
 perately. But she refused this time to sit upon 
 his knee. Finally an old man asked if Walter were 
 there. 
 
 "Well, I just guess!" said Starlight. "He s my 
 
474 THE HEART LINE 
 
 beau, he is! He giv d me this candy. Want some?" 
 A chocolate drop flew into the middle of the room. 
 
 "That s real materialized candy !" Vixley explained. 
 "We re liable to have a good seance, to-night !" 
 
 Starlight, after giving a few messages, announced 
 that the spirits had consented to materialize, and re 
 quested the company to sing. Flora went into the 
 cabinet, Madam Spoil turned the light still lower, and 
 Vixley, stating that the medium would now go into 
 a dead trance, took the chair in front of the cabinet. 
 A doleful air was started by the believers on the 
 front seats : 
 
 "I have a father in the spirit land, 
 I have a father in the spirit land, 
 My father calls me, I must go 
 To meet him in the spirit land!" 
 then, 
 
 "I have a mother in the spirit land," 
 
 and so on, through the whole family, brother, sister 
 and friend. 
 
 The darkness was now thick and velvety. The sit 
 ters could not see what they touched, and, gazing in 
 tently into the void, their eyes filled it with shifting 
 colors and spots of light conjured up by the reflex ac 
 tion of the retina, as if their eyes were shut. As 
 the song ended, there came an awed silence to add to 
 the stifling darkness as they waited for the first mani 
 festation from the cabinet. 
 
 Then the hush was broken by excited whispers, and 
 a tall form, dimly luminous, was seen in the opening 
 of the curtains. 
 
 "Why, here s the Professor!" said Vixley, shatter- 
 
THE MATERIALIZING STANCE 475 
 
 ing the solemnity, and making of this advent a friendly- 
 visitation. "Good evening, Professor, we re glad to 
 see you. It s good to have you here again!" 
 
 A deep, slow voice replied, articulating its words 
 painfully, "Good eve-ning, friends, I m ver-y glad to 
 be here to-night!" Every word was chopped into 
 distinct syllables. The figure moved forward a little. 
 It was a typical ghost, a vague, unearthly, draped 
 figure, wavering, indistinct. The face melted into 
 amorphous shadows. It glided here and there noise 
 lessly. 
 
 The Professor was an affable celebrity, but some 
 what verbose. He spoke to several of the company 
 by name, and interspersed his greetings with jocular 
 remarks to Little Starlight who was supposed to be 
 flitting invisibly about the room. "She s a lit-tul dar- 
 link, ev-ery-bod-y loves lit-tul Star-light," he said, in 
 answer to Vixley s comment. 
 
 He retreated silently to the cabinet, and the cur 
 tains closed upon him. Some one asked if they 
 couldn t see the "Egyptian Hand" and Starlight s 
 voice from the cabinet gave assent. Forthwith it ap 
 peared and made a hurried circle of the front part 
 of the room, shedding a ghostly, phosphorescent glow, 
 and, on its way, patting the heads of the faithful. 
 
 "Oh, I feel something so nice and soft !" cried Mrs. 
 Brickett. "It s perfectly eavenly right on top of my 
 head what is it?" 
 
 "That s hair!" Starlight called out 
 
 The Professor bellowed from the cabinet, "Oh, ho, 
 ho, ho! You must-unt mind lit-tul Star-light! She s 
 so love-ly we don t mind her, do we?" 
 
 Vixley gave the cue for another song to cover the 
 
4 ;6 THE HEART LINE 
 
 next entrance. This time it was My Bonnie Lies 
 Over The Ocean, its special appositeness seeming 
 to lie in the line, "Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me !" 
 
 Another shorter form appeared and stood wavering 
 in front of the curtains, then, without a word, with 
 drew. 
 
 "That s Stella," said Vixley. "She s only come to 
 get progression. She ain t very strong yet, so she 
 can t stay but a minute, but we re always glad to see 
 her and help her along all we can with our thought." 
 
 A woman, with a sob, rose to go forward. 
 
 "No, not to-night, Mrs. Seeley; the medium ain t 
 strong enough !" said Vixley. 
 
 How he recognized these spectral visitors nobody 
 asked. They looked just alike, except, perhaps, for 
 height; all were wavering, white and mysterious, with 
 out distinguishable faces. At the entrance of another, 
 like all the rest, Professor Vixley startled the com 
 pany by saying, suavely and patronizingly: 
 
 "This is Mr. McKinley, friends. It s good to see 
 you, Mr. McKinley. I m glad you come. We re 
 always glad to see you. Come again, come any time 
 you feel like it." He explained, after the spirit van 
 ished, that Mr. McKinley had had great difficulty in 
 finding any medium sympathetic enough for him to 
 control, and he wandered from circle to circle, hoping 
 to establish communication with the earth-plane. 
 
 The next visitor was no less than Queen Victoria. 
 "That s good!" said Vixley, "we re awful glad to 
 see you, sure!" It now transpired that the spirits 
 whispered their names to him in entering. His con 
 versation became a bit dreary and monotonous and he 
 failed to rise to his obvious opportunities. 
 
He sought amongst the folds of the sheet Page 480 
 
THE MATERIALIZING SEANCE 477 
 
 A few forms, after this, came farther from the 
 cabinet, and their friends were permitted to embrace 
 them. These favored few sat on the front seats. 
 Whispered dialogues took place innocuous talk of 
 troubles and happiness, perturbed commonplaces that, 
 had they not been sometimes accompanied with gen 
 uine tears, would have been nothing but ridiculous. 
 The spirits were all optimistic and willing to help. 
 Their advice, usually, consisted of the statement that 
 "conditions would soon be more favorable." At inter 
 vals the singers broke out into new songs, There s a 
 Land that is Fairer than Day Nearer, My God, to 
 Thee! and so on. The air became oppressively close. 
 The audience began to whisper, cough and shuffle. 
 Mabel, desirous of excitement, had nudged Dougal 
 again and again, but he had muttered "Not yet!" at 
 each hint. 
 
 The song Over There had just ended, and the hush 
 of expectancy had fallen over the company when 
 another form appeared and took a step towards Vix- 
 ley. 
 
 "She says her name is Felicia," he announced. 
 "Does anybody recognize her?" 
 
 "I do!" an unctuously mellow voice replied. 
 
 "She says she has a message for you," said Vixley, 
 "but she don t want to give it out loud before all these 
 people. Will you come up here?" 
 
 Mr. Payson made his way with difficulty, in the 
 dark, past those on his row and came forward. 
 
 "You can touch her, if you want to; she s com 
 pletely materialized. Very strong indeed for one 
 outside Flora s band. She ain t got much vitality, 
 though, and you mustn t tax her too much." 
 
478 THE HEART LINE 
 
 The old man reached forward and touched a cold 
 hand. 
 
 "Is it you, Felicia?" he asked tremulously. 
 
 "Yes, dear!" was the answer, in a thick, hoarse 
 whisper. "I m glad to see you here. You must come 
 often. I ve tried so hard to get you. I want to help 
 you." 
 
 "You have a message for me?" 
 
 She whispered, "Yes; it s about the child." 
 
 "What is it?" His voice was eager. 
 
 "I ve found him." 
 
 "Oh, I m so glad! I ve longed so to find him and 
 do what was right by him. You know, don t you?" 
 All this was spoken so low that but few could make 
 out the words. 
 
 "Yes, I know. I know you love him." 
 
 "Where is he, Felicia?" 
 
 "He s in this city. I shall bring him to you. Then 
 we ll be so happy, all three of us you and I and our 
 dear son!" 
 
 Payson s voice rang out sharply in an angry excla 
 mation : 
 
 "It s all a damned fraud!" he cried. "This is not 
 a spirit at all !" He took a step forward. 
 
 On the instant, before even Vixley could move, 
 Dougal had jumped up and run forward. As he 
 dashed up the aisle he pressed the key of his electric 
 torch and cast a bright light upon the group by the 
 cabinet. The draped form had started back, Payson 
 faced her, Vixley had risen from his chair fiercely, 
 Flora Flint s startled face peered through the curtains. 
 
 "Come on, Max !" Dougal shouted, and threw him 
 self bodily upon the person wrapped in the sheet. 
 
THE MATERIALIZING SEANCE 479 
 
 Maxim grappled at almost the same time, but before 
 him Vixley sprang in and rained blow after blow 
 upon Dougal, who fell, dropping his torch. Vixley 
 then locked with Maxim. Starr and Benton had run 
 up, hurtling past Spoil, who had risen to block the 
 way. They were just too late to save Dougal, who 
 had fallen, still holding his captive fast. It was too 
 dark to see what was happening, but Vixley s oaths 
 led them on, crashing over chairs, creeping and fight 
 ing through the now terrified crowd. A match was 
 struck somewhere behind them, and, before it flared 
 out, Starr and Benton fell on Vixley together and 
 bore him to the floor. 
 
 The room was now horrid with confusion. A 
 racket of moving chairs told that every one had arisen 
 in panic. Women screamed, and there was a rush 
 for the door. It seemed hours before there was a 
 light, then Madam Spoil reached up and turned up 
 the light. At that moment Ringa flew past her she 
 was thrown down and the lamp fell crashing upon 
 the seat of a chair beside her. There was an explosion 
 on the instant. She was drenched with blazing oil, 
 and the flames enveloped her. 
 
 Her screams rose over the tumult so piercingly 
 that every one turned, saw her, and fell back in fear 
 and terror. She clambered to her feet clumsily, 
 shrieking in agony, ran for the door, tore it open and 
 fled down-stairs, to fall heavily at the bottom, writh 
 ing. 
 
 Benton was that moment free, and the only man 
 to keep his senses. He burst right through the room, 
 throwing men and women to right and left and broke 
 out the door after her, and down the stairs, tearing a 
 
480 THE HEART LINE 
 
 table-cloth from a table as he ran through the hall. 
 He wrapped it about her, the flames scorching his 
 face and hands as he did so. The woman was 
 struggling so in her blind terror and torture that it 
 was for a moment impossible to help her. Then, in a 
 few heroic moments he conquered the fire. At last he 
 called to the crowd above for help, and they carried 
 her up into a small side room and laid her upon a 
 bed. 
 
 Starr, meanwhile, still clung to Vixley while Maxim 
 had held Ringa off. Spoil was busy extinguishing 
 the fire on the carpet. Then some one at last lighted 
 the chandelier, showing a score of white, frenzied 
 faces, men and women in wild disarray, chairs broken 
 and strewn upon the floor, a smoking, blackened place 
 on the carpet where the remains of the lamp had 
 fallen. The room smelled horribly. 
 
 Vixley lay in a welter of ornaments that had been 
 swept from the mantel in his struggle. He was still 
 cursing. 
 
 Dougal had held his captive fast through all that 
 turmoil, yelling continuously for a light. Now 
 Mabel and Elsie, who had flattened themselves against 
 the wall, joining their screams to the din, crept 
 trembling up to him to see what he had caught. He 
 turned the limp figure in his arms and sought amongst 
 the folds of the sheet, and turned them away at the 
 face. Elsie gave a little cry. 
 
 It was Fancy Gray. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A RETURN TO INSTINCT 
 
 Clytie Payson had come home after a two weeks 
 stay at Lonely with Mrs. Maxwell, poised, resolute, 
 calm. She seemed sustained by some inward faith 
 manifesting itself only in a higher degree of self- 
 consciousness, as of one inspired by a purpose. 
 
 At breakfast, on the morning after the materializing 
 seance, Mr. Payson read the morning journal inter 
 estedly, so intensely absorbed in its columns that he 
 scarcely spoke to his daughter. But he did not men 
 tion the evening s event, and was moody and morose. 
 
 The affair had received an extensive notice. Madam 
 Spoil, it seemed, still lingered at the point of death. 
 Although Mr. Payson s name was not mentioned, 
 he was much disturbed and apprehensive of publicity. 
 Clytie, noticing his abstraction, did not disturb him 
 with questions. 
 
 After her father had left the house she went up to 
 her workroom, put on her pink pinafore and com 
 menced her bookbinding. She worked at the bench 
 near the window where she could occasionally look 
 out upon the shadows that swept over Mount Tamal- 
 pais. The day was alternately bright and lowering; 
 it promised rain before night. 
 
 At ten, as she was pausing from her work, with a 
 lingering look out into her garden, she saw a young 
 woman coming up the path. It was Fancy Gray, 
 looking about her as if uncertain whether or not she 
 
 481 
 
482 THE HEART LINE 
 
 had found the right place. Fancy wore a black-and- 
 white shepherd s plaid suit, bright and tightly-fitted, 
 which picked her out, in an errant glance of sunshine, 
 against the dull green shrubbery. She stopped for a 
 moment to look at the sun-dial, raising her white- 
 gloved hand to her red and white hat, then passed on 
 toward the house, out of sight. 
 
 Clytie went down-stairs herself to answer the bell, 
 and opened the door with a look of pleasure on her 
 face. 
 
 Fancy hesitated. "Are you busy, Miss Payson ?" 
 
 "Of course not!" Clytie held out both her hands. 
 "If I were, I d be so glad to have you interrupt me, 
 Miss Gray. Do come in ! How charming you look ! 
 I m so glad to see you." 
 
 Fancy accepted the welcome, looking long into 
 Clytie s eyes, as if she expected to find in them some 
 thing of special significance. Her own were steady, 
 and had in them an evidence of resolve. 
 
 "I ve been hoping you d come to see me, Miss 
 Gray," Clytie began. 
 
 Fancy stopped on the threshold. 
 
 "Fancy Gray, please!" she corrected, with an elu 
 sive smile. 
 
 "Fancy Gray I m glad to be permitted to use 
 such a lovely name." 
 
 "Make it Fancy, straight. Then I ll be more 
 natural. I m always stiff and stupid when people call 
 me Miss Gray. I always feel as if they were talking 
 about me behind my back." Fancy s smile broke out 
 now, as if in spite of herself. 
 
 "I d love to call you Fancy ! It s good of you to let 
 me!" Clytie answered. 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 483 
 
 Her smile was as delicious, in this gallant inter 
 change. Fancy s smile seemed as much a part of 
 her natural expression as the brightness of her open 
 eyes ; it was embracing, like a baby s. Clytie s had the 
 effect of a particularly gracious favor, almost a con 
 descension, a special gift of the moment. 
 
 Fancy stopped again at the entrance to the library. 
 
 "Say, this is awfully orderly," she said, "haven t 
 you got some place that isn t so tidy and clean? I m 
 afraid I wouldn t be comfortable here, and I want to 
 talk to you." 
 
 Clytie looked at her amusedly. "So you re one of 
 those persons who think dust is artistic? Come up 
 into my workroom, then. You ll find that untidy 
 enough." 
 
 Up-stairs they went, to the workroom. 
 
 "My !" said Fancy. "If you call this place untidy, 
 you ought to see my room ! Why, it s as neat as a 
 pin!" She entered, nevertheless, and looked about 
 her with curiosity at everything. 
 
 "Haven t you a looking-glass here?" she asked in 
 astonishment. 
 
 "No, but I ll get you one." 
 
 Fancy laughed. "I couldn t live an hour without a 
 mirror," she confessed. "You re really queer, aren t 
 you! And you don t even wear jewelry! I m afraid 
 modesty isn t my favorite stunt. It s very becoming 
 to you, though. I suppose it doesn t go with painted 
 hair." She sighed. 
 
 "I don t believe that even you could improve on 
 nature, Fancy !" 
 
 "I m sure nature intended me for a blonde, and got 
 careless. Did you ever know a brunette who didn t 
 
484 THE HEART LINE 
 
 want to be a blonde?" She looked at Clyde s tawny 
 hair with evident admiration. 
 
 Clyde shook her head, smiling. "Fd give you my 
 hair for your complexion." 
 
 "Done!" Fancy rubbed her handkerchief across her 
 pink cheeks, and handed the bit of cambric to Clyde. 
 After this comedy pantomime, she took the little silver 
 watch from her chatelaine pin, opened the back door, 
 where, inside, was a bright and shiny surface, and 
 regarded her face, pouting. Then she looked across 
 at Clytie. 
 
 "You re so pretty, Miss Payson! You re four 
 times and a half as pretty as I am !" 
 
 Clytie ventured to touch her little finger to the dent 
 in Fancy s upper lip. Fancy retreated a step. "My 
 dear," Clytie asserted, "if I had that, I d be sure that 
 men would be crazy for me till I was seventy years 
 old !" 
 
 Fancy shook her head. "I guess I can t beat that. 
 That s what Gay calls the pink penultimate. And 
 the worst of it is, I suppose it s true! But I ll never 
 be seventy if I can help it." She turned away, sud 
 denly grown serious. The room grew dark. It was 
 as if Fancy s mood had turned off the sunshine. 
 
 "What are you doing, now?" Clytie asked. 
 
 "Oh, just drifting." Fancy s voice was not hopeful. 
 
 Clytie took her hand. "Why don t you come here 
 and stay with me for a while? I d love to have you." 
 
 Fancy gently released her fingers in Clytie s and did 
 not look at her. 
 
 "Oh, I wish you wouldn t be quite so kind to me, 
 Miss Payson ; I can t stand it !" Her mouth trembled ; 
 her gaze was serious. 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 485 
 
 "But it would be so kind of you to come!" Clytie 
 urged. 
 
 Fancy smiled wanly. "I can t do it, Miss Payson. 
 I won t explain. I never explain. It bores me. But 
 I simply can t." 
 
 "Well, you know, if you ever do want to come " 
 
 "I ll come, sure!" Fancy looked at her now, with 
 fire in her eyes, not flaming, but burning deep. 
 "Whenever I forget what a thoroughbred is like, I ll 
 come! Whenever I need a teaspoonful of flattery to 
 last me over night, I ll come! Whenever I want to 
 know how much finer and kinder women are than 
 men, I ll come! Whenever " 
 
 She would have gone on, but Clytie interrupted her. 
 "Whenever you want to make me very happy, when 
 ever you want to do me the greatest favor in your 
 power, you ll come!" 
 
 Fancy s eyes narrowed and twinkled. "I m all out 
 of breath trying to keep up with you! I give it up. 
 Take the pot!" She turned to the bench and exam 
 ined the tools in a box. 
 
 "Ugh !" she commented. "They look like dentists 
 instruments !" 
 
 "I don t believe you ever had to suffer from them ! 
 It doesn t seem possible!" said Clytie. 
 
 In response, Fancy engagingly showed her double 
 row of small, white, zigzag teeth. Then, with a 
 sudden access of frivolity, she favored Clytie with an 
 exhibition of her little, pointed tongue, which she 
 erected and waved sidewise. This done, she dropped 
 into a chair again. The sun had returned and visited 
 the room, making a brilliant object of her jaunty 
 figure as she sat under the window. She wore the 
 
4 86 THE HEART LINE 
 
 fine gold chain with the swastika that Clyde had 
 given her. She fingered it as she spoke. 
 
 "Miss Payson," she said, "I m going to ask you 
 something that perhaps is none of my business." 
 
 "Ask what you please," said Clytie, but she looked 
 at Fancy with something like alarm. 
 
 "Have you seen Mr. Granthope lately?" 
 
 Clytie shook her head. "No." 
 
 "Could you tell me why not?" 
 
 "I m afraid I can t, Fancy." 
 
 "I m terribly worried about it. I m sure there s 
 some trouble. Oh, Miss Payson, I know he s awfully 
 unhappy. And I can t bear that !" 
 
 Clytie walked to the window and looked out, stand 
 ing there with her hands behind her back. There 
 was a faint line come into her forehead. "I d rather 
 not talk about it," she said quietly. 
 
 "But I m sure that if there is any misunderstanding, 
 I might help you. Oh, Miss Payson, I don t want to 
 be impertinent, but I can t bear it to think that he 
 isn t happy. Can t you tell me about it?" 
 
 Clytie turned slowly, a look of pain deepening on 
 her face. "I can only tell you this, that I was mis 
 taken in him." 
 
 "Mistaken? How?" 
 
 "Not in quality, so much as in quantity, if you 
 know what I mean. I know what he s capable of, 
 what he has done, and what he can do. I don t feel 
 any anger or resentment, for what I know, now, that 
 he has done. I feel only pity and sorrow for him." 
 
 "But what has he done? That s just what I want 
 to know. You mean that it was something definite?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 487 
 
 "And you believed it of him?" Fancy could not 
 restrain her surprise. 
 
 "I had to believe it. Oh, Fancy, don t you under 
 stand ? It was the sort of thing that no woman could 
 forget. It was of no importance except as showing 
 that he wasn t so far along as I had thought. It 
 merely means that I ll have to wait for him. And I 
 shall wait for him. I m so sure of him that I can 
 wait, though it hurt so at first that I couldn t possibly 
 see him. That s all." 
 
 Fancy bit her lip. There was a little, determined 
 shake of her head that Clytie did not see. "Miss 
 Payson," she said, "you must tell me what it was. 
 I ve heard Professor Vixley say a thing or two that 
 aroused my suspicions." She went on slowly, with an 
 effort. "I know that Frank adores you that he has, 
 ever since that night you came with him to his office, 
 after his accident." 
 
 "Oh, but this was after that," Clytie said wearily. 
 "It was something he told Vixley." 
 
 "After that! Why, Frank hasn t had anything to 
 do with Vixley or Madam Spoil since then, except to 
 try to get them to leave your father alone." 
 
 "I saw his own handwriting, Fancy; the very 
 notes of what I had talked about to him even the 
 little intimate things they nearly killed me. And 
 Professor Vixley told me himself that Frank had been 
 giving him information right along, up to only a few 
 weeks ago while we had been so happy together 
 oh, to think of it !" 
 
 Fancy s face had varied in phase, like the opening 
 and shutting of the clouds. Now it was eager, rapt. 
 "Oh, I understand, now!" she cried, jumping up. 
 
488 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Why, Miss Payson, Vixley can no more be trusted 
 than a gambler! Don t you know that he s wild with 
 Frank? Vixley s got it in for him; he is trying to 
 ruin him! Don t you know that Frank has been 
 trying to buy him off, just to save your father from 
 being cheated by them? Why, Frank offered Vixley 
 a thousand dollars to leave town, only last week. 
 Vixley told me so himself !" 
 
 "A thousand dollars? That s impossible." Cly- 
 tie s voice was still hopeless. 
 
 "I can t imagine where he got the money, but he 
 had it with him. in cash. Vixley said so." 
 
 "How long ago was that?" 
 
 "Two weeks ago, about." 
 
 Clytie reflected. "I saw Frank on the platform 
 at Stockton, two weeks ago. I wonder " 
 
 "Yes, it was the day after he got back, I remember 
 now." 
 
 "Oh!" Clytie s face lightened as if another person 
 had come into the room. She looked away, as if to 
 greet an unseen visitor. Her hand was raised deli 
 cately. "I see." Her voice came suddenly, definitely. 
 Then she stared hard at Fancy. "Oh, Fancy, I m 
 almost frightened at it ! I don t dare to believe it. 
 Oh, if I ve made a mistake in suspecting him. If I ve 
 accused him to myself unjustly, how can I ever bear 
 it ! But I saw those notes " 
 
 "And you didn t ask him to explain them?" Fancy 
 spoke very slowly. She did not accuse, she only won 
 dered. 
 
 "No." Clytie s tone had dropped low, and she went 
 on, fluttering hurriedly. "I simply went away. Oh, 
 think of it it was as melodramatic as a play that s 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 489 
 
 the way women do on the stage, isn t it? But you 
 see, I did know awful things about him, Fancy he 
 had told me, and I suspected more. There was some 
 thing in the notes about my present to father, and 
 his birthday had only just passed. That proved to 
 me that Frank s notes had been made recently, I 
 thought." 
 
 Fancy looked at her with a quizzical expression. 
 "I knew a fellow once who used to call me a marmoset. 
 I guess that s what you are, you poor dear! Why, 
 Frank told me about your binding a book for your 
 father the day he first came here. You must have 
 spoken of it then." 
 
 "I did!" Clytie fairly threw out. "I remember it 
 now! And that was before before he really knew 
 me, wasn t it! Oh, what shall I do, Fancy?" Her 
 look was, for the moment, as helpless as a child s. 
 
 "Do?" Fancy repeated, shrugging her shoulders. 
 "Why, the telephone wires are still working, aren t 
 they?" She spoke a bit dryly. She had done her 
 work, now, and relapsed into a sort of apathy. 
 
 "And I prided myself on my intuition, and on my 
 fairness!" Clytie went on, unheeding her. "I knew 
 that I saw in him what no one else saw not even you, 
 who knew him so well, and who wouldn t suspect him 
 of anything- so base as that! To think of my being 
 the victim of such a claptrap trick!" 
 
 Fancy raised her eyebrows and watched her quietly. 
 "What I can t understand now, is why you re wasting 
 your time talking about it." 
 
 Clytie stared at her, her face still shadowed by her 
 emotion. Then her smile came rapturously. She 
 turned and ran down-stairs to the telephone. 
 
490 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Fancy walked to the window forlornly. There she 
 leaned her head on her arm against the pane and shut 
 her eyes, as if she were fatigued. It was black in 
 the west, and the Marin shore was shrouded in the 
 murk. The harbor was covered with dancing white- 
 caps. The storm was imminent. She stayed there, 
 motionless, until Clytie s step was heard coming up, 
 then started into life again and gave herself a shake. 
 
 "He s coming right up!" Clytie announced. 
 
 Fancy immediately looked at the blue enameled dial 
 of her little silver watch. "Well, I must be going." 
 
 "Oh, please stay!" Clytie exclaimed, holding her 
 tightly. "I really want you to, so ! It s you who have 
 done it all." 
 
 Fancy smiled at last, and released herself. "Yes, 
 I ve spent my life in straightening out other people s 
 snarls," she said. "Sometime I hope some one will be 
 able to straighten mine. But I ve got a date, really." 
 
 "Oh, do tell me that you re as happy as I am," Clytie 
 exclaimed. "I ve been so selfish, I m afraid! I 
 don t know who he is, but I m sure he must be fine, 
 if you care for him. How I wish I could help you, 
 dear!" 
 
 "The only way you could, I m afraid, is by lending 
 me some of your brains and I m afraid they wouldn t 
 fit my noddle. He s awfully clever, and I feel like a 
 fool when I m with him." 
 
 "But you do really love him, don t you?" Clytie 
 asked anxiously. 
 
 Fancy nodded gravely. "I guess yes. As much 
 as I can love anybody. I m afraid of him. That s 
 one sign, isn t it?" 
 
 "And you can t tell me who he is?" 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 491 
 
 "Not yet." 
 
 "Fancy, when you re married, I ll give you a wed- 
 ding." 
 
 "I accept!" said Fancy Gray. 
 
 She turned to go, but hesitated a moment, as if she 
 could hardly make up her mind to ask the question, 
 yet couldn t go without asking it. "Miss Payson," she 
 said finally, "did you tell Frank that I had been here?" 
 
 "Of course I did !" 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "He said that it was like you. That you always 
 played fair." 
 
 "Good-by!" Fancy said, and suddenly breaking 
 through the reserve that had so far constrained her, 
 she laid her cheek for a moment to Clytie s. 
 
 Clytie kissed her. The two walked down-stairs 
 arm in arm. At the front door Fancy paused and 
 said: 
 
 "Take my advice, Miss Payson, and don t explain. 
 Never explain. If you once get into that habit you re 
 lost. It only wastes time. Get right down to business 
 and stay there. Your head belongs on his shoulder, 
 remember that. All Frank will want to know is what 
 you re going to do next. Keep him guessing, my dear, 
 but never explain! Now, I m going to try and get 
 home before it rains." 
 
 She turned up her collar, gave a quick toss to her 
 head, and walked rapidly down the garden path. At 
 the gate she turned, gaily gave a mock-military salute, 
 a relic of her old vaudeville manner, then ran down the 
 steps. 
 
 Clytie watched her till she had disappeared. Then 
 she went up-stairs and changed her frock. 
 
492 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Fancy s sage advice was wasted. There were expla 
 nations, a torrent of them, when Francis Granthope 
 came, explanations voluble, apologetic, impetuous, 
 half-tragic, semi-humorous. The equilibrium of 
 Clytie s mind was completely overturned and its re 
 adjustment came only after a prolonged talk. Every 
 trace of the priestess, the princess, the divinity was 
 gone forever, now. She was more like a mother re 
 joicing at the restoration of a lost child, for whose 
 absence she blamed her own neglect and carelessness. 
 It was all too delightful for Granthope to wish to cut 
 it short. He was hungry for her. 
 
 He, too, had his explanations and his news. For 
 two weeks his hands had been tied. Clytie had dis 
 appeared from his ken, and he had had no way of 
 tracing her, for it was useless to telephone to the 
 house or to ask of her father. There had been noth 
 ing for it but to wait in the hope that whatever had 
 caused the interruption would come right of itself. 
 He had never really felt sure of Clytie her accept 
 ance of him had seemed too wonderful to be true, a 
 fortune to which he was not really entitled, and 
 which he might lose any instant. Whether or not 
 Vixley or Madam Spoil had effected the separation, 
 he had no way of determining. 
 
 He told then of his trip to Stockton where, by es 
 tablishing his identity by means of the finger-prints, 
 he had succeeded in obtaining possession of the money 
 he had deposited there so many years ago. This 
 had amounted, with interest, to several thousand dol 
 lars. He had gone immediately to Vixley to seal the 
 bargain they had made, but the Professor had abso 
 lutely refused to accept any payment for leaving town. 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 493 
 
 Indeed, he had hinted that he had schemes on foot 
 which would bring him an income that Granthope 
 could not hope to rival. How matters stood between 
 Mr. Payson and the mediums, neither Granthope nor 
 Clytie knew. They had not yet heard of the material 
 izing seance, and the situation was, so far as they 
 knew, the same as before. It was agreed that there 
 must be another attempt to rescue Mr. Payson, and 
 this time through Doctor Masterson, who was prob 
 ably venal. 
 
 Granthope, meanwhile, however, had perfected his 
 plans. He had sufficient money, now, to warrant his 
 devoting himself to the study of medicine, a project 
 he had so long contemplated that, with the start he 
 had already made, would make it possible for him 
 to practise in two or three years. He had, therefore, 
 abandoned all idea of going upon the stage. Clytie 
 approved of this with considerable relief. The pros 
 pect of reviving gossip by Granthope s appearance 
 as an actor had caused her much dread. They had 
 already been much talked about. Society had dis 
 cussed them until it had grown tired. Nothing was 
 sensational enough to last long as an object of curi 
 osity in San Francisco, and a half-dozen other affairs 
 had caused them to be almost forgotten. 
 
 After this first flurry of talk, in which she had 
 come down from that lofty spiritual altitude where 
 she had dwelt for the last two weeks, she was sheer 
 woman, thrilling to his words and to the sense of his 
 nearness. As they had progressed in intimacy her 
 maternal instinct had asserted itself more and more 
 frankly towards him. She had treated him at times 
 almost as if he were a boy whose education she was 
 
494 THE HEART LINE 
 
 fondly directing. She had lost some of that feeling, 
 now, in virtue of her mistake; she was curiously 
 humble. 
 
 He, too, had somewhat changed. Before Cly- 
 tie s direct gaze he had lost something of his 
 power; he had been afraid of her. In this readjust 
 ment the normal phase of courtship was restored, and, 
 feeling his way with her, delicately perceptive as he 
 always was with women, he began to notice that she 
 would willingly resign the scepter she would gladly 
 be mastered if he would but put forth his power. She 
 was learning to be a woman; she would be con 
 quered anew. 
 
 He was to learn all this slowly, however; so slowly 
 that, at every manifestation of her inclination he had 
 a moment s pause for the wonder of it, tasting the 
 flavor of her condescension, marveling at his own 
 conquest. To him, as to all lovers, his sweetheart 
 had been a woman different from all her sex. He was 
 now to find that she was not one woman but two that 
 in her the subtly refined spirit of his vision shared her 
 throne with that immemorial wild creature of primal 
 impulse who is the essence of sex itself; who, sub 
 dued or paramount, dwells in all women, saints and 
 sinners alike. He had, in virtue of his victory, merged 
 tkose two warring elements in her soul into one. 
 She had come into her birthright, not lost it. She 
 seemed a little frightened by the metamorphosis, but 
 there was a triumph of discovery, too ; he reveled in 
 its manifestation, but he was still timorous before the 
 new, splendid, potent being he had invoked. There 
 was an intoxicating excitement, now, as he saw in 
 her traces of every woman he had known. It was as 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 495 
 
 if, after exploring a strange land and meeting its 
 people, he had at last come upon the queen who com 
 bined all the national characteristics and fused them 
 with the unique distinction of royalty. 
 
 They had, also, as yet, a whole lovers language 
 to manufacture, metaphors to weave into their talk, 
 words to suggest phrases, phrases to stand for moods 
 and emotions. But such idioms are untranslatable 
 they will never bear analysis. For love is a subjective 
 state, whose objective manifestations are ridiculous. 
 No one can see a kiss it is a state of being. 
 
 But into this relation they entered, as children go to 
 play, making their own rules of the game, establish 
 ing their own sentimental traditions as lovers use. 
 With such vivid imagination as both possessed the 
 pastime became deliciously intricate; it had pathos 
 and comedy, wind and dew and fire. They spoke 
 in enigmas, one s quick intuition answering the 
 other there were flashes so quick with humor that 
 a smile was inadequate in satisfying its esoteric mes 
 sage. An observer would have seen Clytie, her eyes 
 alight, her pose informed with gracile eagerness, wak 
 ing from her gentle languor to inspired gesture 
 Granthope pacing the room, erect, virile, dark, sensi 
 tive in every fiber to her presence, flinging a whim 
 sical word at her, or with a burst of abandon pouring 
 himself out to her to her delight. There was an intel 
 lectual stimulation as well as an emotional pressure 
 in their intercourse that forbade any monotony of 
 mood. There was a tensity of feeling that broke, at 
 times, into waves of laughter ; but there were moments, 
 too, when the sudden realization of their relation, with 
 all its doubts, its unknown paths, and secret, fatal 
 
496 THE HEART LINE 
 
 web of circumstance, impelled them to make sure, at 
 least, of the moment, and to defy the future with an 
 expression of their present happiness. So they came 
 down, and so they went up. From height to depth, 
 from shadow to light he pursued her. He chased, but 
 she was ready enough to be caught ! She held a hand 
 to him and helped him up ; they met in delightful soli 
 tudes of thought; they walked together through the 
 obvious. That he should so follow her, that she could 
 understand, there was wonder enough, even without 
 that other diviner communion. It was a lovers play- 
 day, now ; there was time enough for the lovers rit 
 ual and the worship at the shrine. For this day was 
 the untellable, impossible delights of wonder. They 
 took repossession of their kingdom, no longer jeop 
 arded by doubt. 
 
 It was Clytie, who, at last, grew more bold, more 
 definite. She rose and put her two hands on Grant- 
 hope s shoulders, smiling at him with pride in her 
 possession. 
 
 "I can t wait any longer," she exclaimed. "I ve 
 suffered enough. Before anything else comes between 
 us, let s settle it so that nothing can separate us. You 
 see, my instinct has triumphed after all. I m sure of 
 you indeed, I always have been. I must speak to 
 father to-morrow, and, if you like " She hesitated, 
 in a sudden, maidenly access of timidity. 
 
 "We ll be married instantly? Dare you?" He 
 crushed her impetuously in his arms, not even this 
 time without a wonder that she should permit him, 
 not quite daring even yet to believe that she was more 
 than willing. 
 
 She freed herself with an expression that should 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 497 
 
 have reassured him. "There s nothing, now, to be 
 gained by waiting, is there?" 
 
 "Nothing, if you can live on what I can provide." 
 
 She laughed at the very absurdity of it. "It may 
 be hard, but I think I can manage father," she went 
 on. "He s too fond of me really to oppose what I m 
 set on." 
 
 "I only wish I could do something to assure him, 
 to propitiate him," said Granthope. "My position 
 has been so undignified that I ve had no chance. I 
 have been meeting you surreptitiously, and I suppose 
 he suspects me of being after your money." 
 
 "While the truth is, I m after yours !" 
 
 "I wonder if, after all, it is mine ?" he said thought 
 fully. "I have never been able to find any heirs of 
 Madam Grant and her last message to me seemed 
 to be that I should have what she left." 
 
 "Oh, it s yours, I m sure !" she said. 
 
 "I long so to know about her! If I could once 
 convince your father of my sincerity there s much I d 
 like to ask him." 
 
 "Father is a strange man. He is often unreason 
 able and prejudiced in his judgment and treatment of 
 people, but there s a warm vein of affection under 
 neath it all. There s something hidden, something 
 almost furtive, even in his attitude toward me, some 
 times, that I can t understand. I happened on a queer 
 evidence of his emotional side only a little while ago. 
 There is a big trunk up-stairs in our garret where 
 my mother s things are stored. It s always kept 
 locked ; I ve never seen the inside of it. Well, I started 
 to go up into the attic for something, and as I was 
 half-way up the steps where I could just see into the 
 
498 THE HEART LINE 
 
 loft, I heard a noise up there. Father was on his 
 knees, in front of that trunk. He was examining 
 something in his hand. There was a tenderness and 
 a pathos in his posture I got only one glimpse of him 
 before I went down again. You know my mother 
 died when I was about five years old soon after that 
 day at Madam Grant s. He never seems to want me 
 to talk about my mother at all ; he evades the subject 
 whenever I mention her. I think that he must have 
 been very fond of her, and it s still painful to discuss 
 her." 
 
 "Have you ever asked him about that clipping about 
 Felicia Gerard?" 
 
 "Why, he s as reserved about her, too. Isn t it 
 strange? But I m sure that she was Madam Grant 
 there s a mystery about her I can t fathom. Do tell 
 me more about her. You don t know how queer it 
 seems that I have actually seen her." 
 
 He gave her all he knew of the strange, mad wom 
 an s life it was not much, as he had been so young 
 then his straying into her rooms, her adoption of 
 him, his education, his loneliness, his love. She 
 warmed to him anew as he told the story. 
 
 "Ah, that s the part of you I know and love the 
 best!" she exclaimed. "How good you were to her! 
 If anything could make me love you more, it would be 
 your devotion to that poor, lonely, ravaged soul. It 
 seems as if you have served me in serving her, and 
 I would like to think that I could pay you back, by 
 my love, for all you gave her. It stirs me so to think 
 of her pain and her despair!" 
 
 "Let s make a pilgrimage !" he said impulsively. "I 
 haven t been inside the Siskiyou Hotel since I was a 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 499 
 
 child, though I ve passed there often enough. It s 
 a pretty disreputable place now, I m afraid." 
 
 "Oh, yes!" Clytie caught up with his eagerness. 
 "Think of seeing that place again, where we first met ! 
 It will be a celebration, won t it! How long is it? 
 I don t quite dare think." 
 
 "Twenty-three years !" 
 
 "And all that time we ve been coming together " 
 
 "It was a wide curve my orbit traced, my dear !" 
 
 "It s one of the mysteries of life that while we seem 
 to be going away from each other, we re as really 
 coming together. But we ll travel the rest of the 
 course together, I m sure!" 
 
 They set out, forthwith, on their quest for what 
 had been. It had begun to rain, but their spirits were 
 unquenchable by the storm. The excursion was, 
 indeed, an adventure. Granthope himself felt his 
 fancy aroused at the thought of the revisitation of the 
 old home. It had a double charm for him now, as 
 the spot where the two women who had most affected 
 his life had been. 
 
 He left her under the shelter of an awning while 
 he went into the saloon to interview the bartender who 
 rented the rooms in the building. The man had heard 
 of Madam Grant, though it was so long since she 
 had lived there. There were still stories told of her 
 wealth and her eccentricities, as well as of her occult 
 powers. The rooms had even, at one time, been 
 reported to be haunted, but they had always been let 
 easily enough. At present they were occupied by some 
 Russians. Yes, Granthope might go up ; perhaps they 
 would let him in. 
 
 They ascended the narrow, dingy stairs together. 
 
500 THE HEART LINE 
 
 The wall was grimy where many dirty elbows had 
 rubbed the plastering; the rail was rickety and many 
 balusters were missing. Granthope rapped at the door 
 in the hall with a queer, sick feeling of familiarity, 
 though it was as if he had read of the place in some 
 story rather than a place he had used to inhabit. 
 
 A Jewess opened the door, her sleeves rolled to the 
 elbows, her face plump and good-natured. She smiled 
 pleasantly. 
 
 "Would you mind our coming in to look at your 
 rooms?" he asked. 
 
 "What for?" she said. 
 
 "Why, I used to live here when I was a child, and 
 I d like to show this lady the place." 
 
 "If you want to, you can, I suppose. It ain t much 
 to look at now, though. We have to take what we 
 can get, down here." 
 
 Her curiosity was appeased by the coin which Grant- 
 hope slipped into her hand, and she sat down to her 
 sewing phlegmatically, looking up occasionally with 
 little interest. 
 
 The place was, of course, much changed. The 
 windows were washed, the floor scrubbed and 
 partly covered with rag rugs. It was well fur 
 nished and well aired. Granthope pointed out the 
 little chamber where Madam Grant had slept, where 
 his own bed had been, and, finally, the closet from 
 which he had first spied upon her. Clytie looked 
 about silently, much moved, and trying to bring back 
 her own recollections of the place. 
 
 "If I close my eyes, I can almost see it as it was," 
 she said. "I can almost get that strange feeling I had 
 when I came here. If I could be here for a while alone 
 
A RETURN TO INSTINCT 501 
 
 I think I could see things. I d like to go into the 
 closet again. Let s see if the crack is still in the 
 door." 
 
 It was still there. She asked permission to go 
 inside, and the Jewess rather uncomfortably agreed. 
 The place was filled with clothing; it was close and 
 odorous ; the shelves were filled with boxes, rags 
 and household belongings. Clytie went in rather 
 timidly. 
 
 "Go over where I sat in the front room, that day," 
 she said. "I want to look through the crack, as you 
 did. I d like to be locked in, too, but the key is gone." 
 
 She closed the door on herself while Granthope 
 walked to the bay-window and looked idly out. It 
 was such a strange sensation, being in the old place 
 again, that for some moments he lost himself in a 
 reverie ; then, turning and not seeing Clytie, he walked 
 rapidly to the door and opened it. 
 
 She stood . there, leaning back against the wall of 
 clothing with a wondering, far-away expression, her 
 eyes staring, her face white, her breath coming fast 
 through her parted lips. He took her hand, thinking 
 that she was fainting, and led her out. She recovered 
 herself quickly and drew him into the front room. 
 
 "I saw my father while I was in there," she whis 
 pered. "He was looking about the room furtively, 
 as if searching for something. What can it mean? 
 I m afraid something has happened to him I m 
 alarmed about it. I must go right home and see if 
 anything s the matter. I had a strange feeling, like a 
 pain, at first, in the dark, and I was frightened. Then 
 I saw him. Come, let s go away !" 
 
 She went up to the Jewish woman and shook hands 
 
502 THE HEART LINE 
 
 with her, thanking her for the courtesy. The old 
 lady patted Clytie s hand approvingly. 
 
 "That s funny, what everybody wants to see my 
 room for," she said, "but I don t care when I get a 
 dollar every time, do I? Last week they was an old 
 gentleman here, like you was, to see it !" 
 
 "What was he like?" Granthope inquired. 
 
 "Oh, he was bald-head, with a spectacles and some 
 beard." 
 
 Granthope and Clytie exchanged glances. 
 
 "He must have been down here for something," 
 she said. "I can t make it out. I m afraid that there s 
 some trouble. It worries me." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 
 
 The rain had come in a vigorous downpour, wash 
 ing away the mantle of dust that had so long lain 
 over the city. The storm finally settled down to a 
 steady pelting of heavy drops, lightened occasionally 
 to mild, drizzling showers, only to be resumed with 
 greater violence toward night. Every one was glad for 
 the flushing the town received. There was a novelty 
 and excitement about the rain, a relief after the 
 parched, monotonous months of cloudless skies. Men 
 and women walked the streets smiling, the women 
 especially; for that free, fearless gaiety, the almost 
 abandoned good nature of San Francisco girls, was not 
 to be quenched. 
 
 On Thursday evening, Fancy Gray, to all appear 
 ance her old, gay self, smiling as if she had never a 
 care in the world, went down to Fulda s to dine with 
 Blanchard Cayley. 
 
 In a city of restaurants, Fulda s restaurant was 
 unique. The Pintos had discovered the place, and .by 
 their own efforts had made it. Maxim and the artists 
 of the quarter had gained Fulda s consent to a new 
 scheme of decoration, a plan so mad and impudent 
 that the room was now a show-place for visitors. The 
 walls were covered with cartoons and sketches as 
 incongruously placed, perhaps, as the embossed pic 
 tures on a bean-pot, but what was lacking in art was 
 
 503 
 
504 THE HEART LINE 
 
 made up for by a bizarre, esoteric humor that was the 
 perpetual despair of the uninitiated. 
 
 Maxim s chief contribution, a huge cartoon with 
 caricatured portraits of his friends, had the place 
 of honor; it was a superb piece of low comedy in 
 crayons/ Beyond this the sketches became more gro 
 tesque, the inscriptions more cryptic. Quotations from 
 Rabelais, from Brantome, from Chesterton, Whistler 
 and Wilde were scattered here and there, mingling 
 with fiery burlesques of Bohemians, Philistines, lobsters 
 and artists. No one, not even the authors, knew the 
 point of most of these jokes well enough to explain 
 them intelligibly, and it was this baffling suggestive- 
 ness which drew patrons to the restaurant and kept its 
 charm piquant. One saw at each table new-comers 
 with questioning faces pointing to legends in Greek 
 and Esperanto and Yiddish, and wondering at the 
 inscrutable accompaniment of illustration. It was a 
 sort of mental and artistic hash spread upon the walls. 
 The humor grew fiercer as one s eyes rose to the ceil 
 ing. There, a trail of monstrous footprints, prepos 
 terous, impossible, led, with divagations, to a point 
 above the central table which was always reserved for 
 the Pintos. To crown this elaborate nonsense, they 
 had drawn a frieze below the cornice with panels 
 containing the names of the frequenters of the 
 place, alternated with such minor celebrities as Plato, 
 Browning and Nietzsche. 
 
 In a larger city, such a place would have had a tem 
 porary vogue, and then, after having been "discov 
 ered" by reporters and artists, have sunk into the 
 desuetude of impecunious rural diners-out, one of the 
 places of which one says : "Oh, you should have seen 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 505 
 
 it two years ago." But San Francisco is of that fas 
 cinating size, half-way between town and city, and 
 of that interesting age where the old is not quite for 
 gotten and the new not quite permanently instated, 
 it is, above all, so delightfully isolated that it need 
 not ape the East. Though it has outgrown some of its 
 Western crudities, it is significant that such a restau 
 rant as Fulda s could become and remain a resort for 
 the gathering of the cleverest spirits in town. It had 
 already achieved that reputation; it was patronized 
 by the arts. The visitors, for the most part, either did 
 things or wanted to. One was apt to know almost 
 everybody there. If one didn t know Mr. Smith, one s 
 friend did ; or one knew Mr. Smith s friend. 
 
 To this place entered Fancy Gray, drifter, the day 
 after the materializing seance, in a new, blue mack 
 intosh and a pert but appropriate hat. She nodded 
 to Felix, at the counter, and, following underneath the 
 trail of footprints on the ceiling, came, jovially as 
 ever, to the central table. Dougal, Elsie and Benton 
 were sitting at the far end of it. Dougal sprang up 
 with a grin. 
 
 "Come and sit down quickly and tell us all about 
 it!" he exclaimed. "What happened after we left?" 
 
 She sat on the side of a chair without removing her 
 coat, and gave them her ever-ready smile. "Say, you 
 didn t raise a rough house or anything, did you? I 
 thought it would be a case for the coroner before you 
 got through. If I d known you were going to be 
 there I wouldn t have been in the cast. Wasn t it 
 awful? Madam Spoil was pretty badly burned, I 
 hear." 
 
 "I hope I ll never have to see anything as horrible 
 
506 THE HEART LINE 
 
 as that again," said Benton. "But I did what I 
 could. I hope she ll recover." 
 
 "We waited till the police and the ambulance came 
 and then we got out," Dougal added. "There was 
 nothing more to do but testify. Did you see the 
 account of it in the paper? I believe they re going 
 to have more about it, and play it up for all it s worth. 
 What became of you, Fancy? Last I saw of you you 
 had skipped into that back room." 
 
 "Oh, as soon as I had put on my shoes, I got out 
 as quick as I could by the back way. I didn t know 
 whether the house was going to be pulled or not. I d 
 had trouble enough for one evening. I m all black 
 and blue now, from Dougal s holding me." 
 
 "How did Vixley feel, I wonder? He must have 
 been pretty sore." 
 
 "Sore ! I guess he was, in more ways than one. 
 But Flora Flint was the funniest! They found her 
 in the cabinet, half dressed, after all the crowd was 
 cleared out she had been afraid to move." 
 
 "How did you happen to be there, anyway, Fancy ?" 
 Elsie asked. "I thought you hadn t done anything 
 with that medium crowd for years." 
 
 It was not often that Fancy was embarrassed, but 
 she seemed so, now. 
 
 "I haven t. I don t know why I did except they 
 asked me, and I wanted to oblige somebody and I 
 needed the money. I had forgotten I had told you to 
 go to Flora s." 
 
 "Aren t you going to eat?" Dougal asked. Fancy 
 usually dined at the central table several times a week. 
 Cayley s attentions were already on the wane. 
 
 "No, I ve got free eggs to-night," was the reply. 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 507 
 
 Her eyes had been on the door of the restaurant, 
 and, at this moment, they were rewarded by the sight 
 of Blanchard Cayley, who entered and looked about 
 the room for her. "Well, I m going to meet my royal 
 meal-ticket," she said, rising and waving a hand at 
 him. He nodded, and came down to her, bowing to 
 several friends on the way, an4 the two took a table 
 beyond the Pintos. She faced Dougal who made dis 
 approving faces at Cayley s back. 
 
 The room filled up. One long table was decorated 
 with flowers, and a party of ladies and gentlemen 
 from up-town soon came in and took seats there. 
 They began immediately to chatter and look about the 
 walls, commenting upon the decorations. At other 
 tables Fancy saw artists, newspaper men and men 
 about town, who had been pointed out to her before. 
 To some of them she nodded. Cayley knew many 
 more. It was like a great family dining-room. 
 
 "Well?" said Cayley, in his peculiar tone that made 
 of one word a whole sentence. 
 
 "I evidently made a hit. I hope you re satisfied, 
 now." 
 
 "You certainly brought down the house." There 
 was a sarcastic, almost a surly note in his voice. 
 
 "I m awfully sorry things went wrong, Blan," she 
 said. "I wouldn t have done it if I d known the 
 crowd was going to be there. I m sorry now I con 
 sented to take part. I hope I ll never see Vixley 
 again. He was horrid to me." 
 
 "I ve seen Vixley. He says Madam Spoil isn t 
 expected to live." 
 
 "Isn t it awful? I didn t want to do it, Blan, yau 
 know I didn t; I wouldn t have done it for anybody 
 
503 THE HEART LINE 
 
 but you. I don t see how you can bear to have any 
 thing to do with Vixley. Ugh ! What did you want 
 me to do it for, anyway?" 
 
 "Oh, only to find out some things, that s all. Of 
 course I couldn t do it myself, could I?" 
 
 It was evident, now, that he had been drinking. 
 He had not shown it in his walk or in his voice, but 
 there was a slight glaze to his eyes that told the 
 story. He had been abstinent for so long that Fancy 
 wondered at it. He ordered a flask of chianti and 
 poured two glasses. 
 
 "You oughtn t to begin again, Blan don t!" she 
 said anxiously. "Water s good enough for me." 
 
 "Pshaw! Don t worry, I m all right. You don t 
 think I m drunk, do you?" He laughed harshly. 
 
 "N no, but I don t like it." 
 
 "Forget it, Fan ; nobody ever saw me drunk. I only 
 get confidential, that s all. In vino veritas. There s 
 a double meaning there. Exoteric and esoteric." 
 
 At this moment the waiter appeared with a stone 
 bottle and two Chinese cups. "Mr. Dougal sent this 
 over with his compliments. It s sake" he explained. 
 Fancy kissed her hand to Dougal, and poured for her 
 self and Cayley. 
 
 "Ugh! It s horrible!" she said. "Isn t it?" 
 
 "No, it s the real thing; I like it." Cayley drank it 
 all and helped himself to more. 
 
 "Did you find out what you wanted to know?" said 
 Fancy, proceeding with her dinner daintily. 
 
 "No, the row came just in time to queer the whole 
 thing." 
 
 "Of course you know that if Dougal had had any 
 idea it was me " 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 509 
 
 "Oh, it wasn t Dougal, it was old man Payson 
 he caught on " 
 
 Fancy laid down her fork, and narrowed her eyes. 
 "Payson?" she repeated. 
 
 "Yes, of course; the old chap you were talking to, 
 weren t you ?" 
 
 She looked at him with a strange expression. "Pay- 
 son? I didn t think I was too excited to realize 
 I mean who is he, Blan?" Her hands fell into her 
 lap and clasped one another tightly. 
 
 "Oh, an old boy I know, a good sort, but a fool. 
 No fool like an old fool, is there ?" He poured another 
 glass of chianti, without noticing how intense she had 
 grown. His eyes were dallying with two good-look 
 ing girls across the room. 
 
 "Is Miss Payson the one who was with you at 
 Carminetti s his daughter ?" 
 
 He looked up at her sharply, now, but her frown 
 meant nothing to him. He returned to his tagliarini. 
 "Yes why?" he said. 
 
 "Tell me about her, Blan, please," Fancy begged, 
 with an unusual air of anxiety. 
 
 "Nothing to tell, except she s a disdainful beauty, 
 and a little too haughty for me. Fastidious, pre-Ra- 
 phaelite, and super-civilized and all that. You 
 wouldn t care for her, any more than you would for 
 a Utamaro." He smiled to himself at what Fancy 
 had once said of Japanese prints. 
 
 "H m !" Fancy put her chin in her hands, and kept 
 her eyes on Cayley. "So that old gentleman was her 
 father," she said in a low unimpassioned voice. "It 
 was Miss Payson s father I was hired to fool !" Sud 
 denly she spoke up more sharply, but with a tremor 
 
5io THE HEART LINE 
 
 in her voice. "What did you want me to play spirit 
 for, Blan? Out with it!" 
 
 He saw now that something was wrong. It made 
 him peevish. 
 
 "What do you know about Miss Payson, anyway?" 
 he demanded. 
 
 "I ve seen her." 
 
 "Well, what did you think of her?" 
 
 "I thought she was a thoroughbred." 
 
 "Indeed?" Cayley thought it over, looking some 
 what abstractedly at a picture on the wall, entitled: 
 "Je congnois la faulte dcs Boesmes." Then he turned 
 with an open countenance to her and said, with an 
 air of candor: 
 
 "You see, Fancy, I happened to know Payson was 
 in the clutches of Vixley and this Spoil woman they 
 were sucking his blood. I thought I could rescue 
 him if you would play spirit, and then tell Payson 
 afterwards what a fraud it all was. Understand 
 now?" He smiled blandly. 
 
 "I see," she said, and went on with her dinner. 
 
 "Then again," Cayley remarked, "I thought you 
 wouldn t mind getting even with Granthope." 
 
 This brought her up again with an angry flush. 
 "What has he got to do with it?" 
 
 "Well, he played it rather low down on you, didn t 
 he?" 
 
 "What d you mean?" 
 
 "Oh, he fired you." 
 
 "He didn t! I left of my own accord." Fancy s 
 lie came impetuously. 
 
 "Did you know that he s after Miss Payson, now?" 
 
 "So I ve heard." 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 511 
 
 "You re remarkably amiable about it, my dear. You 
 didn t really care for him, then?" His smile was 
 unendurable. 
 
 "I never explain. If people can t understand with 
 out explanations, they never can with them." 
 
 "Then you don t mind it at all ?" he insisted. 
 
 "No I don t mind it. I m glad." The words came 
 from her slowly, this time. 
 
 "What d you mean?" 
 
 Fancy was silent. 
 
 "Well, don t you think he ought to be shown up 
 a little?" He was on his third cup of sake, but his 
 hand was as steady as ever. 
 
 Her lips parted, and her breath came suddenly for 
 an exclamation, but the protest got no further than 
 her eyes. She dropped them to the table-cloth, where 
 she marked crosses with her little finger-nail. Dou- 
 gal was making overt attempts to attract her atten 
 tion and the diversion was maddening. 
 
 "What d you mean?" she asked. 
 
 "If you were really a good enough friend of mine 
 to help me out " 
 
 "Oh, I ll help you out, Blan ; what d you want me to 
 do?" she said quite eagerly, now. He did not notice 
 her suppressed excitement. 
 
 "Well I suppose you know a good deal about 
 him?" 
 
 She nodded wisely. 
 
 "And some things, I suppose, might make consid 
 erable difference if they came out? You know what 
 I mean." 
 
 "Do you want me to tell them?" she flung fiercely 
 at him. 
 
512 THE HEART LINE 
 
 He took alarm, and, reaching across the table, 
 attempted to touch her hand. She evaded him. "Of 
 course I don t want you to do anything dishonorable 
 but you said yourself she was a thoroughbred do 
 you think it s quite the square thing to stand by and 
 let a man like him marry a nice girl like Miss Pay- 
 son?" 
 
 "I thought you said she was supercilious!" 
 
 "No, super-civilized, that s all. Call it statuesque. 
 But all the same I hate to see her get stung don t 
 you, now ? Come !" He leaned back and folded his 
 arms. 
 
 "She s too haughty for you, I thought!" 
 
 "Did I say that? Well, I m a friend of the family, 
 you know I want to do what I can for them." 
 
 She reached nervously for her wine-glass, and her 
 hand, trembling, struck the chianti flask and tipped 
 it over. Before she could set it straight it had spilled 
 into a plate, drenching a napkin which lay partly 
 folded there. The linen was turned blood red. Cayley 
 laughed at her carelessness loudly. Dougal looked 
 across again, but Fancy avoided his eye. 
 
 "Blan," she said, leaning slightly towards him and 
 speaking low, "do you love me? Or are you just 
 playing with me?" 
 
 He seemed to consider it. Then he said, very earn 
 estly, and evidently with a subtle psychological intent, 
 "I m only playing with you, Fancy !" And he smiled. 
 
 Her fingers drummed on the table. 
 
 "But I ll never treat you the way Granthope did," 
 he added. 
 
 Her hands came together again in her lap. "That ll 
 be all about Granthope," she said through her teeth. 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 5 T 3 
 
 "See here," he insisted, "you know what a cad he s 
 been as well as I do! He s trying to marry Miss 
 Payson, damn him! I ve seen her with him often. 
 If you ll just go up to her and tell her a few things 
 you needn t violate any confidences just enough 
 to put her on her guard we can head him off and 
 spoil that game !" 
 
 "Oh!" Fancy s breast heaved violently. "I see!" 
 she exclaimed slowly. Her eyes blazed at him. "So 
 that s what you ve been after all this time, is it? I 
 think I know you now, Blanchard Cayley!" 
 
 Her eyes did not leave him as her right hand stole 
 over the cloth, reaching for the wine-soaked napkin, 
 and grasped its dry end. Slowly she rose from her 
 seat, stood up, and leaned far over the table towards 
 him. 
 
 Then, raising her hand suddenly, she struck him as 
 with a flail, once, twice across the cheek, across the 
 eyes, leaving a purple stain whose drops trickled down 
 into his beard. The sound was heard all over the 
 room, and drew all eyes. For a moment she watched 
 him put up his arm to ward off the blows ; then, with 
 a gasping sob, she turned and ran swiftly down to- the 
 door and out into the street. 
 
 Cayley, his face now reddened not only by the wine, 
 but from the furious flush which burned in his cheeks, 
 sat for a moment as if paralyzed. Then he wiped 
 the mark with his napkin, automatically. His face 
 worked like a maniac s. He rose deliberately, reached 
 for his hat and strode down the aisle after her. 
 
 Dougal saw the pursuit just in time. Quickly his 
 foot shot out into the passage, and Cayley, passing, 
 tripped over it, and fell headlong upon the floor. 
 
514 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Dougal, cigarette in mouth, leaped out of his chair 
 and held him lightly. Benton jumped up and stood 
 by him, ready. Cayley was mumbling curses. They 
 helped him up politely, and Dougal muttered: 
 
 "Go back to your table, Mr. Cayley, and sit down 
 there for five minutes. If you don t, by God, I ll kill 
 you !" 
 
 The room buzzed with exclamations; every one 
 stared. 
 
 Cayley stared sullenly, his mouth open, then turned 
 back and sat down and put his hands to his forehead, 
 leaning on the table. 
 
 Dougal conferred with Benton. "You wait here, 
 Benton, and wherever Cayley goes, you follow him. 
 I m going out after Fancy. There ll be the hell to pay 
 to-night if we don t find her. I ve never seen her that 
 way before, and it looks like trouble to me!" 
 
 With that, he hurried out of the restaurant. 
 
 She had run out into the rain without either coat 
 or umbrella. Turning down Commercial Street in 
 the direction of the ferry, she walked hurriedly, as if 
 bent on some special errand ; but, at the foot of Mar 
 ket Street, she hesitated, then crossed, walked along 
 East Street past the water-front, saloons and sailors 
 boarding-houses, stumbling and slipping on the un 
 even, reeking, board sidewalks. Then she went up 
 Howard Street, dark and gloomy, all the way to 
 Fourth Street. Here she made back for the lights 
 of Market Street, crossed, looked idly in at a drug 
 store window for fully five minutes. A man came up 
 and accosted her jocosely. She turned and stared at 
 him without replying a word, and he walked away. 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 515 
 
 Then, almost running, now, she flew straight for 
 Granthope s office. Looking up from the street, she 
 saw a light in his window. She ran up the stairs and 
 paused for a moment to get her breath outside his 
 office door. Just at that moment a voice came to her 
 from inside, and then a man s answered, followed by 
 a chorus of soft laughter. She stood transfixed, biting 
 her lip nervously, listening. The woman s voice went 
 on, evenly. 
 
 Fancy staggered slowly down the stairs and went 
 out again into the storm. Down Geary to Market 
 Street, down Market Street, hopelessly, aimlessly. 
 Here the rain beat upon her mercilessly in great 
 sheets. Again she stopped, looking up and down 
 wildly. Finally she turned the corner and went into 
 the ladies entrance of the "Hospital." A waiter led 
 her to a booth where she could be alone. 
 
 The "Hospital" was, perhaps, the most respectable 
 saloon in the city where women were permitted. The 
 whole rear of the establishment was given over to a 
 magnificently fitted-up department devoted to such 
 women as were willing to be seen there. One might 
 go and still retain a certain relic of good-repute, if 
 one went with a man there were married women 
 enough who did, and reckless girls, too, who took the 
 risk; but it was on the frontier of vice, where ama 
 teur and professional met. 
 
 From a wide, carpeted passage booths opened to 
 right and left ; little square rooms, with partitions run 
 ning up part way, screened off with heavy red plush 
 portieres hanging from brass rods. Each of these 
 compartments was finished in a different kind of rare 
 wood, handsomely designed. Arching from a heavy, 
 
516 THE HEART LINE 
 
 molded cornice, where owls sat at stately intervals, an 
 elaborately coffered ceiling rose, and in the center was 
 suspended a globe of cathedral glass, electric lighted, 
 glowing like a full moon. 
 
 Fancy hung up her jacket to dry and ordered a 
 hot lemonade. Then she went down to the telephone 
 and called up Gay P. Summer s house number. She 
 got him, at last, and asked him, tremulously, to come 
 down to the "Hospital" and see her. She would 
 wait for him. He seemed surprised, but she would 
 not explain, and, after a short discussion, he con 
 sented. She went back to the "Toa" room and waited, 
 sipping her drink. 
 
 All about her was a persistent babble of voices, the 
 women s raucous, hard and cold, mingled occasionally 
 with the guffaws of men. Across the way, through 
 an opening of the portieres, she could see an over 
 dressed girl tilted back in her chair puffing a cigarette. 
 White-aproned waiters passed and repassed, looking 
 neither to the right nor left. 
 
 She was staring fixedly at the wall, her elbows on 
 the table, her chin on the backs of her hands, when 
 Gay entered a little crossly. She looked up with a 
 smile almost her old winning smile though it 
 drooped in a moment and was set again with an effort. 
 
 "Hello, Gay, here I am again !" she said. She gave 
 him her cold little hand. 
 
 He drew off his rain coat and sat down, as fresh 
 and pink as ever, the drops still glistening on his 
 cheeks. "What s up?" he said, touching the electric 
 button and pulling out his cigarette case. 
 
 "I m through with Blanchard Cayley," she said, 
 watching him. 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 517 
 
 "It s about time," he remarked. 
 
 "Aren t you glad to see me, Gay?" 
 
 "Sure!" he answered, without looking at her. He 
 scratched a match, and, after he had lighted his cigar 
 ette, looked up at the waiter who appeared in the 
 doorway. "Two Picon punches," he said. Then he 
 turned to her and folded his arms. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Fancy?" 
 
 He seemed, somehow, to have grown ten years older 
 since the time they had frolicked together at the 
 beach. His cheek was as blooming, his figure as boy 
 ish, but his eyes were a little harder. His voice 
 showed a little more confidence, and his pose was quite 
 that of the man of the world. Much of his charm had 
 gone. 
 
 "Gay," she said, "we were pretty good friends, 
 once." 
 
 "That s what we were, Fancy. How much do you 
 need?" 
 
 She recoiled as if he had struck her and buried 
 her face in her arms on the table. Her shoulders 
 sheok convulsively. "Oh, I didn t want to graft, Gay, 
 don t think that ! That s not what I called you up for, 
 really it isn t!" 
 
 "What was it, then?" he asked, growing a little 
 more genial. 
 
 The waiter appeared with two glasses on a tray 
 and set them down on the table. Fancy looked up and 
 wiped her eyes. When they were alone again he said, 
 "Fire away, now. I ve got a date at ten. I m sorry 
 I said that, but I didn t know but you were hard up, 
 that s all." 
 
 "Gay," she said, "do you remember what you said 
 
5i8 THE HEART LINE 
 
 that day we went down to Champoreau s the first 
 time ?" 
 
 "I believe I said all that crowd had the big head, 
 didn t I?" 
 
 "That isn t it, Gay. I wonder if you ve forgotten 
 already?" 
 
 "I guess I have. Lots of things have happened 
 since that." He blew a lung-full of smoke into the 
 air over her head. 
 
 "You ve said it several times since then. Do you 
 happen to remember asking me to marry you?" 
 
 "I believe I did make a break like that, now you 
 speak of it. And you threw me down good and hard, 
 too." 
 
 She got his eyes, and smiled. "You said that 
 whenever I changed my mind and gave the word 
 you d marry me." 
 
 "Did I?" Gay moved uncomfortably in his chair. 
 
 "You did, Gay, and when you said it, I thought you 
 meant it I believe you did mean it then. Oh, Gay, 
 dear, I want to quit drifting! I want to settle down 
 and be a good wife to some man who ll take care of 
 me, some one I can love and help and be faithful to! 
 Oh, you don t know how faithful I d be, Gay! I d 
 do anything. I m so tired of drifting I m so afraid 
 I ll go on like this! I m not a grafter, Gay, you 
 know I m not! But I want to get married and be 
 happy!" 
 
 "You ought to have said that two months ago," he 
 said, knocking the ash from his cigarette with exquis 
 ite attention. 
 
 "Don t you want me now?" she said, shaking her 
 head pathetically. She reached for his hand. "I like 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 519 
 
 you, Gay, I ve always liked you and I think I could 
 learn to love you sometime. But I d be true to you, 
 anyway. Take me, please, Gay! I can t stand it any 
 longer." 
 
 "For Heaven s sake, don t talk so loud, Fancy; 
 somebody ll hear you! Say, this isn t fair! I gave 
 you a good chance, and you threw me down. Why 
 didn t you take me then? I was crazy about you, but 
 no, you wouldn t have it !" 
 
 "Then you ve got all over it? You don t want me 
 now?" 
 
 He had a sudden access of pity, and stroked her 
 hand. "Why, I couldn t make you happy, Fancy! 
 You know that. You wouldn t have me marry you if 
 I wasn t in love with you, would you? I suppose I 
 have got over it; I was fascinated, and I thought it 
 was the real thing. We all make mistakes. I ve been 
 about a good bit since then, and I know more of the 
 world. I m sorry, but it s too late." 
 
 She looked away, and for a moment her eyes closed. 
 
 "I guess nobody wants me, then. Men get tired 
 of me, don t they? I m good enough to play with 
 for a little while, but I can t make good as a wife. 
 Never mind. I thought perhaps you were in earnest, 
 that s all. I m sorry I bothered you. You can go, 
 now !" 
 
 He went up to her and put his hand on her shoul 
 der. She shook it off, shuddering. "Go away!" she 
 cried. 
 
 He took his hat and left her. 
 
 For a quarter of an hour she sat there, and then, 
 looking up haggardly, stared about the room. She 
 consulted the little chatelaine watch that dangled on 
 
520 THE HEART LINE 
 
 her breast. Going up to a mirror, she attempted to 
 straighten her hair, but her hands shook so that it 
 was of little use. She was, even in that warm room, 
 shivering. Then she rose and went down the carpeted 
 passage, past luxurious paintings, past the compart 
 ments filled with giggling women and tipsy men, out 
 into the night again. 
 
 The rain had stopped at last, but it was cold and 
 gusty. Great detached masses of cloud pied the heav 
 ens, and in the clear spaces of sky the stars shone, 
 twinkling brilliantly. She turned down Market Street. 
 
 Half-way to the ferry she met Dougal, almost fall 
 ing into his arms before she recognized him. 
 
 "Well, I ve found you at last !" he exclaimed. "Lord, 
 how wet you are ! Come right along home with me, 
 and Elsie will give you some dry clothes." 
 
 "Oh, no, thank you, Dougal, but I can t, really! 
 I ve got to go to Oakland to-night." 
 
 "Nonsense ! Wait, I ll get a cab." 
 
 "I can t go, honest I can t. Please don t tease me !" 
 
 "Well, I won t leave you, at any rate !" He put 
 his arm through hers. 
 
 "You can come down to the ferry, if you want. 
 I m going to Oakland." 
 
 "All right, I ll go, too. But you re cold! You 
 oughtn t cross the bay to-night. You ought to go right 
 to bed." 
 
 "Oh, I ll be warm enough soon!" 
 
 They walked along for a while in silence, till she 
 stopped him to ask, "Have you got a pistol with you, 
 Dougal?" 
 
 "Yes, why?" 
 
 "Lend it to me, will you?" 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 521 
 
 "Not on your life! What do you want it for?" 
 "Never mind, I want it Please, Dougal !" 
 "Not after that scrap I saw to-night. I don t want 
 you in the papers to-morrow morning. You ve had 
 trouble enough without a shooting scrape. If any 
 body s going to shoot Cayley, let me do it!" 
 She sighed, and gave it up. 
 
 "Do you want to tell me what s the matter, Fancy ?" 
 "No, Dougal, I d rather not. It doesn t matter." 
 "You ll get over it all right, I expect." 
 "Oh, yes, I ll get over it." 
 
 "Anyway, you just want to remember you can call 
 on me any time for anything you want, Fancy, barring 
 guns. Don t get blue when you have good friends to 
 fall back on. We re with you to a finish, old girl !" 
 "You re a dear !" She flashed a smile at him. 
 He grinned, and gripped her arm tighter. Then he 
 began to dance her down the sidewalk. Fancy grew 
 hilarious and laughed aloud, excitedly. They began 
 to sing, as they marched, a song they had learned by 
 rote from Maxim. Neither of them well understood 
 the words : 
 
 "Josephine est mor-te, 
 
 Morte en faisant sa 
 
 En faisant sa prie-re 
 A bon Saint Nicolas, 
 Tu-ra-la ! 
 Ca n va gu-ere 
 
 Tu-ra-la ! 
 Ca n va pas!" 
 
 They kept it up in this vein till the Ferry Building 
 was reached. There he bought her ticket and took her 
 to the gate. She still smiled, still flung him her odd 
 jests, still clung affectionately to his arm. 
 
522 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Well, good night, Fancy Gray!" he said at last 
 "Don t do anything foolish till I see you again !" His 
 grin was like a blessing. 
 
 She seemed loath to leave him, and drew back from 
 the gate. She unpinned the little silver watch from 
 her coat and handed it to him. 
 
 "Say, Dougal, would you mind taking this to a 
 jeweler and having it adjusted for me?" she said sud 
 denly. "It doesn t go very well, and I won t have 
 time to attend to it. Don t forget it. I ll tell you 
 perhaps you d better give it to Elsie and let her take 
 charge of it." 
 
 He took it and put it in his vest pocket. "All right," 
 he said, "I ll give it to her." 
 
 "Tell her to be careful of it, I m awfully fond of 
 that watch !" she added. Then her fingers went to the 
 little gold chain with the swastika at her neck and 
 she started to unclasp that, too. 
 
 "And, Dougal" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 She left the chain where it was. 
 
 "Never mind, it s nothing. Good-by, Dougal, you 
 may kiss me if you want to!" 
 
 "Do I want to!" He gave her a bear s hug, and 
 a brother s kiss. 
 
 She was still unready to go and stood looking at him 
 whimsically. Then, impulsively, she seized his arm 
 and drew him back under an arc light, and held up her 
 face. 
 
 "Dougal," she said, "will you answer me something 
 absolutely honestly?" 
 
 "Sure !" 
 
 "Do you think I m pretty?" 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 523 
 
 He studied her a moment, and his lips worked 
 silently. Then he said deliberately: 
 
 "Well, I don t know as I d call you exactly a 
 pretty woman, but you re something more than that " 
 
 "Cut it out !" she exclaimed dryly ; "I know all the 
 rest! I ve heard it before. Stop before you tell me 
 I have fine eyes and am good-natured. I know! 
 The bride was a distinguished-looking brunette of 
 great grace and dignity, and wore her clothes well ! 
 Never mind, Dougal, you re honest, anyway," she 
 added. 
 
 He opened his mouth to protest, repentance in his 
 eyes, but she blew a kiss at him and darted through 
 the gate. He watched her till she passed through the 
 inner door, where she waved a last time. 
 
 She walked rapidly on board, went up the stairway, 
 and hesitated by the door of the cabin. A girl passed 
 her, looked back and then returned timidly. 
 
 "Excuse me, but ain t you the young lady that 
 works in Mr. Granthope s office?" she said. 
 
 "I did, but I m not there any more. He s gone out 
 of business," Fancy managed to reply. Her quick eye 
 had recognized the girl as Fleurette. 
 
 "I m sorry for that. He s nice, isn t he? He was 
 awfully kind to me, and he said it was on account of 
 you. Did you know he wouldn t even take any money 
 from me?" 
 
 "Wouldn t he?" said Fancy. "That s like him." 
 
 "And he gave me such a lovely reading, too. It 
 just saved my life, I think, and everything came out 
 just as he said it would, too. Don t you think he s 
 awfully good-looking?" 
 
524 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Yes, very." Fancy was breathing hard. 
 
 "And he s so good. Why, I most fell in love with 
 him, that day. I guess I would have, if I hadn t been 
 in love already. I was awfully unhappy then. I m 
 the happiest girl in the world, now ! Say, weren t you 
 awfully fond of him?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I guess he was of you, too. He said some awful 
 nice things about you !" 
 
 "Did he?" Fancy s eyes wandered. 
 
 The girl saw, now, that something was wrong, and 
 evidently wanted to make up for it. She spoke shyly: 
 "Say there s something else I always wanted to tell 
 you. I wonder if it would make you mad?" 
 
 "Go ahead," said Fancy. 
 
 "You won t think I m fooling?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well," Fleurette almost whispered, "I think you re 
 awful pretty!" 
 
 With that, she turned suddenly and went into the 
 cabin. 
 
 Fancy went down-stairs slowly, biting her hand 
 kerchief. The lower deck was deserted; she looked 
 carefully about, to make sure of it. She glanced down 
 at the water which boiled up from the paddle-wheels 
 and shuddered. 
 
 Overhead the stars now shone free of cloud, in the 
 darkness of space. San Francisco was like a pin 
 cushion, stuck with sparks of light. She crossed to 
 the port side of the boat, and saw Goat Island, a 
 blotch of shadow, with its lighthouse, off the bow. 
 It grew rapidly nearer and nearer. It fascinated her. 
 
FANCY GRAY ACCEPTS 525 
 
 When it was directly opposite, a few hundred yards 
 away, she clenched her teeth and muttered to herself : 
 
 "Well, there s nothing in the race but the finish ! 
 This is where / get off !" 
 
 Clambering to the top of the rail, she took a long, 
 deep breath, then flung herself headlong into the 
 bay, and the waters closed over her. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 Francis Granthope ran up the two flights of stairs 
 like a boy, and pounded at Masterson s door. The 
 doctor appeared, with his celluloid collar in one hand 
 and a half-eaten orange in the other. He was coat- 
 less and unshorn, although his office hours, "from 
 nine till four" had already begun. He looked at 
 Granthope, took another bite of his orange, and then, 
 his mouth being too full for clear articulation, pointed 
 inside to a chair by the fireplace under the shelves 
 full of bottles. 
 
 Granthope dumped a pile of newspapers from the 
 chair and sat down. The sun never came into the 
 room, and the place was, as usual, chill, dim and 
 dusty. A handful of fire fought for life upon the 
 hearth. Behind a fringed portiere, which was 
 stretched across the back of the room, the doctor s cot 
 was seen, dirty and unkempt. 
 
 Masterson finished the last of his orange with a 
 gulp, went to a bowl in the corner where a skull 
 was perched on a shelf, and washed his hands. After 
 he had wiped them and rubbed a blotch of juice from 
 the front of his plaid flannel waistcoat, he put on his 
 coat and sat down by the fire. 
 
 "Well, I must say you re quite a stranger. How s 
 things, Frank?" he said casually. 
 
 "So-so," was the reply. "I ve given up my busi 
 ness." 
 
 526 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 527 
 
 "So I hear. What s the matter? Sold out?" asked 
 Masterson. 
 
 "Oh, no, I just threw it all up and left." 
 
 "That s funny. I should have thought you could 
 have got something for the good-will. What you 
 going to do now?" 
 
 "Nothing. I didn t come here to talk about my 
 self, Masterson, I came to talk about you." 
 
 "Well, well, that s kind of you," said the healer, 
 buttoning on his collar. "That s what you might call 
 friendly. You didn t use to be so much interested 
 when you was wearing your Prince Albert. What 
 makes you so anxious, all of a sudden?" 
 
 Granthope smiled good-naturedly, and poked at the 
 fire till it blazed up. "See here," he said. "I can 
 show you how to make some money easily." 
 
 "That sounds interesting. I certainly ain t in busi 
 ness for my health. Fire it off. I m listening/ 
 
 "There s no use beating about the bush with you. 
 And I m a man of my word. Isn t that so ?" 
 
 "I never heard it gainsaid," said Masterson. "I ll 
 trust you, and you can trust me as equally." 
 
 "Well, I ll tell you how I m fixed. You know that 
 Madam Spoil and Vixley have got it in for me 
 they ve tried to run me out of this town, in fact." 
 
 "Oh, that s why you quit? Lord, I wouldn t lay 
 down so easy as that!" 
 
 "Well, I m out of it, at any rate. I won t say why, 
 but they tried to hurt me, fast enough. Now I want 
 to give them as good as they sent." 
 
 Doctor Masterson grinned and clasped his hands 
 over his knees. "That suits me all right. I ain t 
 any too friendly myself, just at present." 
 
528 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Then perhaps we can come to terms. What I 
 propose to do, is to checkmate them with Payson." 
 
 Masterson rubbed his red, scrawny beard. "That 
 ain t easy," he said reflectively. 
 
 "Easy enough, if you ll help me." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Simply by giving the whole business away to Mr. 
 Payson. He ll believe you when he won t me." 
 
 "Well, what is there in it?" 
 
 "You know what my word is worth. If you help 
 me, and we succeed in getting Mr. Payson out of the 
 net, I promise you a thousand dollars." 
 
 "H m!" Masterson deliberated. 
 
 "Of course, they know I ll spoil their game if I can, 
 so I take no chances in telling you. So it s up to you 
 to decide whether you ll stand in with them, or with 
 me. I can do it alone, in time, but if you help, so 
 much the better. You stand to win, anyway. It 
 isn t worth that much to work with them, as things 
 are, and you know it." 
 
 "I don t know about that," said Masterson craftily, 
 watching his man; "a thousand ain t much for giving 
 away pals." 
 
 "They re not your pals. They ve tried to freeze 
 you out Fancy Gray has told me that from the 
 inside. They re going to get rid of you in short 
 order. Besides, you ll have the credit of rescuing a 
 credulous old man from the clutches of swindlers." 
 
 "That s true," said the doctor. "They re a-bleeding 
 him something awful. It had ought to be stopped, as 
 you say. I don t believe in grafting. I m a straight 
 practitioner, and if any of my patients want fake work 
 they can go somewheres else." 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 529 
 
 "Well, what d you say, then?" 
 
 Masterson thought it over as he warmed his hands. 
 His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door, 
 and he rose to open it. An old, shabby woman stood 
 in the hall. 
 
 She was wrinkled and veined, with yellowish white 
 hair, vacuous, watery gray eyes, a red, bulbous nose, 
 and a miserable chin. She had nothing of the dig 
 nity of age, and her thin, cruel lips were her only 
 signs of character. All other traits were submerged 
 by drink and poverty. Her skirt was ridiculously 
 short and her black shawl ragged and full of holes. 
 She breathed of beer. 
 
 "How d you do, Mrs. Riley?" said Masterson. "I m 
 sorry to say I m engaged at present and you ll have 
 to wait. Can t you sit down on the stairs for a while ?" 
 
 "Oh, dear, but that fire looks good!" she whined. 
 " Can t I just come in and have a seat to rest my 
 bones on? I m feeling that miserable this day that I 
 can t stand." 
 
 "Let her come in," said Granthope, rising. "I ve 
 said all that s necessary at present, and if you decide 
 to do what I want, we can talk it over later." 
 
 The doctor grudgingly admitted her. She tottered 
 in and took the chair by the fire gratefully. She had 
 looked at Granthope when he first spoke, and now she 
 kept her eyes fixed on him as he stood by the window. 
 
 Masterson went over to him and spoke in a lower 
 tone. "I got to have time to think this thing over," 
 he said. "Then, if I accept your offer, we got to dis 
 cuss ways and means, and so forth and so on. I 
 won t say yes, and I won t say no, just at present. 
 I ll think it over and let you know, Frank." 
 
530 THE HEART LINE 
 
 The woman started at the name. Her lower lip 
 fell pendulous. Her eyes were still on Granthope. 
 
 "When will you let me know?" he asked. 
 
 "I tell you what I ll do; I m busy to-day, and I 
 got an engagement to-night. Suppose I come down 
 to your office after theater time? Say ten-thirty. 
 Will that do?" 
 
 "I ll be there," Granthope replied. "I ll wait till 
 you come. The outside door is locked at eleven 
 o clock. Be there before that." 
 
 He took his hat and walked to the door, giving a 
 look at Mrs. Riley as he passed. Her face was now 
 almost animated, as her lips mumbled something to 
 herself. Granthope ran briskly down-stairs, and Mas- 
 terson closed the door. 
 
 "Who s that?" Mrs. Riley piped querulously. 
 
 "That? Why, Granthope, the palmist," said the 
 doctor, busying himself with some bottles on his table. 
 He took one up and shook it. 
 
 "Granthope? No, sir! Don t tell me! I know 
 better." 
 
 Masterson was upon her in a flash. "What d you 
 mean?" he demanded, taking her by the arm. 
 
 "I know, I know ! You can t fool Margaret Riley !" 
 she croaked. 
 
 He shook her roughly. "You re drunk!" he ex 
 claimed in disgust. 
 
 "No, I ain t!" she retorted. "I m sober enough to 
 know that fellow; I ve seen him before, I tell you." 
 
 "Who is he, then?" 
 
 "Oh, d you want to know?" she said craftily. "What 
 would you give to know, Doctor ?" 
 
 "I ll give you Hail Columbia if you don t tell me!" 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 531 
 
 he cried. "I ll give you a bloody good reputation, 
 that s what I ll give! I ll give you the name of being 
 a poisoner, old woman, and I ll take care that your 
 neighbors know all about your three husbands, if you 
 don t look out !" 
 
 "Oh, my God ! Don t speak so loud, Doctor, please ! 
 I ll tell you if you ll promise to leave me alone. I 
 didn t mean nothing by it." 
 
 "Let s have it then." The doctor s eyes gleamed. 
 
 "Did you ever hear tell of Madam Grant?" she 
 asked. "I reckon it was before your day." 
 
 "Yes, I did. What about her?" 
 
 "Why, this young fellow you call Granthope, he 
 used to live with her." 
 
 "He did !" The healer came up to her and looked 
 her hard in the eye. "How the devil do you know 
 that?" 
 
 "Why, I ve seen him there, many s the time. I used 
 to know the Madam well. Me and her was great 
 friends. Why, I was there the day she died!" 
 
 "Were you? I never knew that." 
 
 "We used to call him Frankie, then. He didn t call 
 himself Granthope at all. I expect he made that up." 
 
 "Is that so!" Masterson grinned joyously. 
 "Let s see there was some money missing when the 
 boy left, seems to me." 
 
 "Lord, yes, and a sight of money, too. Madam 
 Grant was a grand miser. They say she had a for 
 tune stowed away in the dirt on the floor. She run 
 a real estate business, you know, and she done well 
 by it. I expect that s where Frankie got his start. 
 Strange I never seen him afore." 
 
 "You re positively sure it s the same one?" 
 
532 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Didn t I stare hard enough at him? Why, just as 
 soon as I come in the door I says to myself, Tve 
 seen you before, young man ! Then when you called 
 him Frank, it all come back to me. I ll take my oath 
 to it." 
 
 "Lord, I could kick myself!" said Masterson. "To 
 think of all these years I ve known him and ain t 
 suspected who he was !" 
 
 "You won t give me away, then, will you, Doctor?" 
 the old lady added tearfully. 
 
 "I ll see, I ll see." He returned to his medicine, 
 thinking hard. 
 
 He proceeded with his treatment of Mrs. Riley, ply 
 ing her all the while with questions relative to Francis 
 Granthope and Madam Grant. Mrs. Riley knew little, 
 but she embroidered upon what she had seen and 
 heard till, at the end, she had fabricated a considerable 
 history. Her fancy, under fear of the healer s threats, 
 was given free rein; and Masterson listened so hun 
 grily, that, had there been no other inducement, her 
 pleasure in that alone would have made her garrulous,, 
 She went away feeling important. 
 
 That afternoon, Doctor Masterson, loaded and 
 primed with his secret, took his rusty silk hat and a 
 Chinese carved bamboo cane and walked proudly up 
 Turk Street to hold Professor Vixley up for what 
 was possible. 
 
 The Professor welcomed him with a show of polite 
 ness. 
 
 "How s Madam Spoil?" was Masterson s first ques 
 tion, after he had spread his legs in the front room. 
 
 "Gertie s pretty bad," said Vixley. "The doctors 
 don t hold out much hope, but you know the way they 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 533 
 
 linger with a burn. I wonder could you do anything 
 for her?" 
 
 "I ain t any too willing, after the way she treated 
 me last time I was here/ said the healer coldly. "I 
 ain t never been talked to so in my life !" 
 
 "Oh, you don t want to mind a little thing like that, 
 Doc, it was only her way. Business is business, you 
 know. Besides, if Gertie should be took from us it 
 may make a good deal of difference, after all. I don t 
 just know what I ll do." 
 
 "I tell you what you ll do," said Masterson, gazing 
 through his spectacles aggressively, "you ll take me 
 into partnership, that s what you ll do !" 
 
 "Oh, I will, will I ? I ain t so sure about that, Doc. 
 Don t go too fast; Gertie ain t dead yet." 
 
 "I rather think I can make it an object to you, 
 Vixley. I may go so far as to say I know I can." 
 Masterson leaned back and noted the effect of his 
 words. 
 
 Vixley looked at him curiously and raised his eye 
 brows. "Is that so? I didn t know as you was in a 
 position to dictate to me, Doc, but maybe you are 
 you never can tell!" 
 
 "I can just everlastingly saw you off with Payson if 
 I want to; that s what I can do!" Masterson rubbed 
 in. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Through something I found out to-day, that s 
 how." 
 
 "I guess I could call that bluff on you, Masterson, 
 if I wanted to. We got him sewed up in a sack. You 
 can t touch us there." 
 
 "Lord, I can blow you sky-high!" He a/ose and 
 
534 THE HEART LINE 
 
 made as if to walk to the door. "And, by the Lord 
 Harry, I ll do it, too! I ve given you a fair chance, 
 you remember that!" 
 
 Vixley took water hastily. "Oh, see here, Doc, don t 
 go to work and be hasty! You know it was only 
 Gertie who wanted to freeze you out. I don t say it s 
 impossible to make a deal, only I don t want to buy 
 a pig in a poke, do I ? I can t talk business till I know 
 what you have to offer." 
 
 "Oh, you ll find I can make good all right," said 
 Masterson, returning to his seat with his hat on the 
 back of his head. "See here ; as I understand it, you re 
 working Payson on the strength of something about 
 this Felicia Grant, he was supposed to be sweet on. 
 Is that right?" 
 
 "Well, suppose we are, just for the sake of the argu 
 ment. What then?" 
 
 "Now, they was a little boy living with her, and he 
 disappeared. Am I right?" 
 
 "You got it about right; yes." Vixley s eyes spar 
 kled. 
 
 "Well, then ; what if I know who that boy was, and 
 where he is now ? How would that strike you ?" 
 
 "Jimminy! Do you?" Vixley cried, now fairly 
 aroused. "I don t deny that might make considerable 
 difference." 
 
 "I should say it would! I should imagine yes! 
 Why, you simply can t do nothing at all till you know 
 who he is, and what he knows ! And I got him ! Yes, 
 sir, I got him!" 
 
 "Who is he?" Vixley asked, with a fine assumption 
 of innocence. 
 
 Masterson laughed aloud. "Don t you wish t you 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 535 
 
 knew ?" he taunted. "I ll let you know as soon as we 
 come to an agreement. What d you think about that 
 partnership proposition now?" 
 
 "Good Lord, ain t I told you all along I was willin ? 
 It was only Gertie prevented me takin you in before ! 
 Sure ! I m for it. Gertie s in a bad way, and I doubt 
 if she ll be able to do anything for a long time, even 
 if she should recover. Meanwhile, of course, I got 
 to live. It won t do to let Payson slip through our 
 fingers. Let s shake on it, Doc; I m with you. You 
 help me out, and we ll share and share alike." 
 
 "Done!" said Masterson. "I kind of thought I 
 could make you listen to reason. Now you can tell 
 me just how the land lays with Payson." 
 
 "Wait a minute! You ain t told me who the kid 
 is, yet." 
 
 Masterson hesitated a moment, unwilling to give up 
 his secret till he had bound the bargain, but it was, 
 of course, obviously necessary. He leaned toward his 
 new partner and touched Vixley on the knee. "It s 
 Frank Granthope!" 
 
 Vixley jumped to his feet and raised his two fists 
 wildly above his head, then dropped them limply to his 
 side. "Granthope!" he cried. "My God! Are you 
 sure?" 
 
 "Positive. Mrs. Riley recognized him to-day at my 
 office. She used to know Madam Grant, and see him 
 down there when he was a kid. Why? What s wrong 
 about that?" 
 
 "Hell!" Vixley cried in a fury. "It s all up with 
 us, then!" 
 
 "Why, what can Granthope do?" 
 
 "Do? He can cook our goose in half a minute. 
 
536 THE HEART LINE 
 
 And if Payson finds this out, it s all up in a hurry." 
 
 "I don t see it yet," Masterson complained. 
 
 "Why, here it is in a nutshell. Payson has an ille 
 gitimate son by Madam Grant he s all but confessed 
 it, and we re sure of it. We had it all fixed up to 
 palm off Ringa on him for the missing heir see? 
 They was big money in it, if it worked. But let Grant- 
 hope get wind of the game, and he ll walk in himself 
 as the prodigal son, and we re up a tree. He s thick 
 with the Payson girl already, and unless we fix him, 
 he ll make trouble. If we could only keep Payson 
 from findin out who Granthope is, and if we could 
 keep Granthope from findin out that Payson had a 
 son, we might make it yet, but it s a slim chance now." 
 
 "It is a mess, ain t it?" said Masterson, scratching 
 his head, and studying the pattern on the carpet. "Of 
 course this son business puts a different face on it 
 for me. But perhaps we can pull it off yet. Have 
 yoft seen Payson to-day?" 
 
 "No and there s another snag. Did you see the 
 paper this mornin ? The reporters have been around 
 to-day, and I m afraid they s going to be trouble about 
 that materializin seance. If they print any more, I ll 
 have to pack up and get out of town till it blows 
 over. What in the world made Payson suspect any 
 thing, I don t know! Fancy done her part all right. 
 But I ain t afraid of that. We can get him back on 
 the hook again all right. All we got to do is to lay 
 the fakin on to Flora, and she ll stand for it. What 
 I want to do next is to develop him." 
 
 "Yes, I see you got one of them mirrors over there," 
 said Masterson, going up to it inquisitively. "It s slick, 
 ain t it? Let s have a look at it!" 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 537 
 
 Vixley sprang in front of him and held his arm. 
 "For God s sake, don t touch it ! Don t touch it !" he 
 cried fearfully. "Leave it alone. I don t want it 
 started. I can t stand the damned thing! I m going 
 to use crystal balls instead. That thing gets on my 
 nerves too bad." 
 
 Masterson, surprised, turned away. "What did 
 you get it for, anyway ? I should think you d got em 
 again, by the way you talk." 
 
 "There s bad luck in it. I m going to send it away. 
 I m afraid of it, somehow." 
 
 Masterson laughed, and resumed his seat, to discuss 
 with the Professor the details of the plot. He 
 did not seem much interested in the plans for the 
 future, however, and seemed anxious to get away, 
 yawning occasionally. He was now smug and confi 
 dent, while Vixley seemed to have lost his nerve. 
 The threatened newspaper revelations had cowed him. 
 Madam Spoil was left out of the discussion; it was 
 evident that her part of the affair was finished. Mas 
 terson left, promising his assistance if matters quieted 
 down, and Payson could be brought under their influ 
 ence again. 
 
 By dinner-time he had thought the matter over to 
 his satisfaction, and he therefore enjoyed himself with 
 beer and cheap vaudeville till half-past ten. Then he 
 strolled down Geary Street and marched up to Grant- 
 hope s office. 
 
 It had taken all Granthope s resolution to treat with 
 Masterson, but it had seemed the only way, at pres 
 ent, to deal with the situation. Mr. Payson s part in 
 the materializing seance had not yet transpired. 
 
 Masterson took a chair, crossed his legs and began: 
 
538 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Well, Frank, I ve been thinking over your propo 
 sition to-day, and I ve decided that I ve got to raise 
 the ante." 
 
 "I thought that would be about your style," Grant- 
 hope returned, "but I think I ve offered you about all 
 it s worth." 
 
 "Oh, it ain t only my help that s worth it, it s you 
 that s worth it, so to speak. I m getting on to your 
 game, now, and I happen to know that you can afford 
 to pay well ; you see, I didn t happen to know so much 
 about this Payson girl, as I do now. If you re tapping 
 a millionaire s family, why, I want my share of it." 
 
 "I guess there s no use discussing the matter, then, 
 if that s your theory. I can t possibly pay more than 
 what I ve offered." 
 
 "I d advise you to hear me out, Frank," Masterson 
 went on. "I said you could pay more, but I didn t 
 say what I had to offer wasn t worth more, did I?" 
 
 "Why is it worth more now than it was this fore 
 noon?" Granthope asked impatiently. 
 
 "It s worth more, because I ve seen Vixley, and I ve 
 found out things that it s for your interest to know. 
 I m on the inside, now, and I m prepared to make a" 
 better bargain." 
 
 "I see; you ve sold me out, and now you want to 
 turn over and sell Vixley out for a raise? I might 
 have guessed that !" He turned to his desk in disgust. 
 
 "I don t care what you think. I ain t discussing 
 high moral principles. I m here to make a living in 
 the quickest and most practical way. If you don t care 
 to hear what I ve got to say, I ll leave." 
 
 "How do I know youVe got anything of value to 
 me? Why should I trust you?" 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 539 
 
 "You can t expect me to tell you, and then leave 
 it to you to make a satisfactory price, can you ?" 
 
 "Oh, I don t care what you ve learned. We ll call 
 it all off." Granthope rose, as if to end the inter 
 view. 
 
 Masterson seeing his caution had gone too far 
 became more eager. "Let s talk this thing out, Frank, 
 man to man. Suppose I tell you half of it, and let 
 you see whether it s as important as I say. Then we ll 
 have a basis to figure on." 
 
 "All right, but make it brief. I m getting sick of the 
 business." He sat down, tilted back in his chair and 
 waited, gazing at the ceiling. 
 
 Masterson spoke crisply, now. "Suppose I tell you 
 that Payson has confessed that he has a son?" He 
 shifted his cigar in his mouth and watched the bolt 
 fall. 
 
 As the words came out, Granthope s face, which 
 had shown only a contemptuous, bored expression, 
 changed instantaneously. It was, for a moment, as 
 if a sponge had been passed over it, obliterating all 
 signs of intelligence, leaving it to blank, hopeless 
 bewilderment. Then his mind leaped to its inevitable 
 conclusion, the whole thing came to him in a sudden 
 revelation; a dozen unnoticed details jumped together 
 to form the pattern, and there it was, a problem solved : 
 horror and despair. He was Clytie s half-brother! 
 He sat enthralled by it for a moment he forgot the 
 leering scoundrel in front of him he saw only Clytie 
 inaccessible for ever. 
 
 Then, still without a word, he rose like one in a 
 dream, sought for his hat, went out the door, and 
 ran down-stairs. As in a dream, too, Masterson s 
 
540 THE HEART LINE 
 
 astonished, entreating, indignant exclamations followed 
 him, echoing down the hall. Granthope paid no atten 
 tion, he had no thought but for Clytie to see her 
 immediately, at any cost. 
 
 He swung aboard an O Farrell Street car, found a 
 seat in the corner of the open "dummy" portion, and 
 strove with the tumult in his soul. The torturing 
 thought of Clytie for ever lost to him coiled and 
 uncoiled like a serpent. He did not doubt Masterson s 
 revelation, nor could he doubt its obvious inter 
 pretation in the light of the many revelations that 
 had been cast upon Mr. Payson s past Yet it must 
 be corroborated before he could wholly abandon him 
 self to renunciation. He tried to keep from hoping. 
 
 He was Clytie s half-brother! His mind wrestled 
 with it. 
 
 The car filled at the Orpheum Theater, taking on a 
 load of merry passengers, who crowded the seats inside 
 and out till the aisles and footboards were packed. 
 The bell clanged as they drove through the Tender 
 loin, rolled round the curve into Jones Street and took 
 the steep hill, climbing without slackening speed. It 
 rounded two more corners, wheels creaking ; and as it 
 passed, the broad area of the Mission and South San 
 Francisco was for a moment revealed in the gap of 
 Hyde Street, a valley of darkness, far below, gor 
 geously set out with lights, like strings and patterns 
 of jewels. At California Street a crowd of passen 
 gers, mostly Jews, overdressed, prosperous, exuber 
 ant, transferred for the Western Addition. The car 
 went up and up, reached the summit and coasted down 
 the dip to Pacific Street. Another rise to Union Street, 
 
I. / 
 
 Her head drooped like a heavy flower P a ge S47 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVRES 541 
 
 where another line transferred more passengers 
 towards the Presidio. Then, with only one or two 
 inside, and the conductor lazily picking his teeth on 
 the back platform, they climbed again up to the reser 
 voir. Here a long incline fell giddily to the water and 
 the North Beach. The car rolled to the crest, ducked 
 fearfully, and boldly descended the slope. 
 
 He was Clytie s half-brother! The thought of it 
 was darker than the night about him. 
 
 Ahead, the black stretch of water, the flash of the 
 light on Alcatraz, and a misty constellation in the 
 direction of Sausalito. To the left, a huge shoulder 
 of Russian Hill swept back from the northern harboi 
 in a wave toward the south. It was sprinkled with 
 artificial stars the gas-lamps, electric lights, and illu 
 minated windows of the town. One street, directly 
 opposite, was a line of topaz brilliants, loosely strung, 
 scattering over the hill. Fort Point light, two miles 
 away, flared alternately a dash of pale yellow and 
 short pin-pricks of red. Farther away, Point Bonita 
 was flaming, regular as a clock, a periodic spasm of 
 diamond radiance. Electric cars, like lighted lanterns, 
 were painfully climbing the Fillmore Street hill. All 
 about was a sparse settlement of wooden houses, thick 
 ening as it rose to the palaces of Pacific Avenue 
 crowning the summit. A dark space of grass and 
 trees lay ahead the Black Point Military Reserva 
 tion the bugles were calling through the night. 
 
 It was past eleven o clock when Granthope ran up 
 the steps into the Paysons front garden, walked rap 
 idly up the path and stood for a moment outside the 
 door. There was a light in Clytie s workroom; he 
 threw a handful of gravel against the pane, and waited. 
 
542 THE HEART LINE 
 
 The curtain was drawn aside, the window raised, 
 and Clytie looked out boldly. She saw him, waved 
 her hand, and disappeared. A few moments later she 
 opened the front door quietly. She wore a soft, cling 
 ing, blue silk peignoir; her arms were half bare, and 
 her tawny hair was braided for the night. She came 
 out with a look of alarm. 
 
 "Oh, Francis, what is it?" 
 
 "Did I frighten you, dear?" 
 
 "Oh, I knew it was you, immediately. But what 
 has happened to bring you here?" 
 
 "Is your father at home?" 
 
 "No he may be back at any moment, though. But 
 come in!" 
 
 He removed his hand from hers resolutely, though 
 her touch thrilled him with delight. "Wait !" he com 
 manded. "First, can you get the keys to that trunk?" 
 
 "Trunk?" she questioned, puzzled. 
 
 "Yes, the trunk you told me about with the wed 
 ding-clothes in it I must see it !" 
 
 "Now?" she asked wonderingly. 
 
 "Yes, immediately. Please do as I say, and don t 
 ask why, yet. Everything depends upon it. Hurry, 
 before your father comes !" 
 
 The unusual air of command brought her to her 
 senses. She went into the house. "Wait here in the 
 hall ; I ll get a light" 
 
 She was gone but a moment, and returned with a 
 candle in a brass candlestick. Then, without a word, 
 she led the way up the stairs. They passed silently 
 through an upper hall where an open door revealed 
 a glimpse of her bed-chamber, all in white, as exquis 
 itely kept as a hospital ward. Here she left him to 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 543 
 
 get her father s keys. They came to a flight of steps, 
 leading upward. She waited for him to go first and 
 lift the trap-door at the top. When he had disap 
 peared into the gloom above, she followed him, handed 
 up the candlestick and took his hand to a place beside 
 him. 
 
 The garret stretched the full length of this wing of 
 the house. At the far end a dim light came through 
 a gable window, in front of which the bough of a tree 
 waved. The candle cast wavering, widening shadows 
 of the rafters against the sloping roof, and picked 
 out with its light the rows of trunks, boxes and pieces 
 of furniture on either side of the floor. It was damp 
 and cold ; there was a musty odor of old books. 
 
 She led the way to the end, where, under the 
 window a large, black trunk stood upon the floor. 
 Granthope s heart leaped with hope. But, in another 
 moment it stood still as death. She had handed him 
 the key, and he had thrown open the lid. There, 
 inside, was a smaller trunk, covered with cow-hide, 
 with a rounded top and a lip of pinked leather, studded 
 with brass nails. There were the letters, "F. G." 
 
 He needed but one look to recognize it as Madam 
 Grant s. But still, it was a common pattern of the 
 old-fashioned "hair trunk" and he must be sure. The 
 lock had been broken, and no key was needed to open 
 it. He threw open this lid, also. Clytie bent over 
 him holding the candle, so near that she touched his 
 shoulder. Neither had spoken. 
 
 There was the same collection of papers, letters 
 and account-books, the same little mahogany box. 
 How well he recalled his first sight of it all! How 
 heavy that tray had seemed to him, as a child ! Now 
 
544 THE HEART LINE 
 
 he raised it with ease. Below, the same revelation of 
 yellowing satin and old lace even the same tissue 
 paper, shredded to tatters, wrapped about the packages. 
 The boxes of silk stockings and handkerchiefs were 
 there as well. He thought of the package of bills that 
 had lain in one corner he knew the place as well as if 
 he still saw the money. Lastly, he groped for the 
 white vellum prayer-book. He found it, and drew it 
 out. Opening the cover, he looked once at the fly-leaf, 
 then handed it silently to Clytie. Written there was 
 the name "Felicia Gerard." He tunned his face 
 away from her. 
 
 She looked at the book and then at him, still bewil 
 dered. 
 
 "What does it mean, Francis? Tell me; I can t 
 stand it a moment longer! This is Madam Grant s 
 trunk, of course I see that. But how came it here? 
 Why should my father " 
 
 She set the candle upon a box and put her arms 
 tenderly about his neck, her face close to his, to soothe 
 his agitation. Her smooth cheek against his was 
 rapture. He could feel her body, warm and soft, 
 through her thin peignoir, and the contact inflamed 
 him. He unclasped her arms with a sudden violent 
 gesture and sprang up in an agony of despair. 
 
 "Don t touch me !" he cried. "Never again !" 
 
 She looked at him, terrified at his tone. His panic 
 passed in a wave from him to her, and was the more 
 unbearable because she did not yet understand the 
 cause of it. 
 
 "What is it? Tell me!" She faced him, and ex 
 tended her hand. 
 
 He retreated from her. 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 545 
 
 "It s Mamsy s trunk," he said, trying to control his 
 voice. "Oh, don t you see?" 
 
 "I m too frightened to think!" she cried, clasping 
 her hands. "I can t think. Tell me quickly, or I shall 
 faint!" 
 
 "Doesn t your intuition tell you ?" he asked bitterly. 
 "Why should it fail you now, when it should be 
 stronger than ever before?" 
 
 "It tells me nothing, except that you are killing 
 me with suspense. Oh, but I know you are suffering, 
 too! Let me share it. Francis, you don t doubt my 
 love for you, whatever happens, do you ?" 
 
 He caught her hand again and dashed it away. 
 
 "Oh, you should see!" he cried. "It s so plain, 
 now! I am Madam Grant s son and my father is 
 your father! I am your half-brother! It s all ended 
 between us, now !" 
 
 "How do you know?" She was trembling. "How 
 does this prove it? It is Felicia Grant s trunk, of 
 course but we knew already that my father had an 
 interest in her he must have bought this trunk at the 
 auction when she died but why does it prove you are 
 his son? Why should you think that there was ever 
 such a relation between them? It s horrible!" 
 
 "I found out to-night, an hour ago, that your father 
 had a child by her he has confessed it to Vixley and 
 Madam Spoil. They got it out of him, somehow. 
 That s how they have got a hold on him and who 
 else should this child be but I, who lived with her? It 
 accounts for his tenderness for these things, for his 
 scrap-book, his going down to the Siskiyou Hotel 
 everything! Oh, it s certain! It is hopeless!" 
 
 She stood gazing at him, bewildered. 
 
546 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "If he had an illegitimate child it must be you, of 
 course. But it is strange I never heard of that!" 
 
 "It was all so long ago before you were born that 
 it happened. Madam Grant had no friends except, 
 perhaps, your mother and it could have been kept 
 a secret easily enough." 
 
 She gave a low moan and sank down upon a box 
 limply. Her eyes were fixed on the candle flame ; she 
 seemed to be studying some possible way of escape. 
 She looked up at him once, and then down again, 
 for his eyes were desperate. He stood watching her, 
 and for some time neither spoke. He put his hand 
 to his head, stroking his hair over his ear mechanically, 
 while his mind whirled. Below a door slammed. 
 She rose, shaking back her hair, her eyes half-closed, 
 her hands on her breast. 
 
 "I understand, now," she said slowly. "It must 
 have been that which drew me to you at first. But if 
 you are my brother, surely I have the more right to 
 love you ! Oh, Francis, I do love you ! What does 
 it matter how, so long as you are dear to me?" She 
 rose, and put out her hand again, but, at the touch 
 he shrank away from her. 
 
 "Oh, no, I can t stand that! It s all over, that 
 tenderness. I can t trust myself with you. It s not a 
 brother s love I feel for you. It s so much more that 
 you will always be a fearful temptation to me." 
 
 "Can t you overcome that ?" As she held the candle 
 before her, her face had never appeared more noble ; 
 for a moment she seemed as far away from him as 
 she had been at first, alone on spiritual heights to 
 him inaccessible. 
 
 "Can your he asked. 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 547 
 
 She dropped her eyes. "If we had found this out 
 before, it would have been easier." 
 
 "Ah, if we only had! Then you would have come 
 into my life as a sister. How proud I would have 
 been of you ! How grateful for all you have done for 
 me! But it is too late, now, to accept you on such 
 terms. I have kissed you not as a brother kisses 
 his sister. I can never get that desire out of my 
 blood!" 
 
 She shuddered and turned away from him. "Yes, 
 you are right, I know. I am a woman, now ; you 
 have awakened me. There is nothing for us to do 
 but part. It is hideous to be the playthings of fate." 
 
 "Well," he said grimly, "if I have made you a 
 woman, you have made me a man ! I can at least live 
 cleanly and self-respectingly. Of course I can t see 
 you again not, at least, for a long time not till we 
 get over this " 
 
 She looked up with the veriest shadow of a smile. 
 "Oh, I shall not get over it! There is no chance of 
 that! Right or wrong, I shall always feel the same 
 toward you, always long for you. Isn t that a fearful 
 confession? Yet, how can I help it?" 
 
 "Then it is for me to protect you all the more. I 
 can live so that you need not be ashamed of me. But 
 not near you." 
 
 She sat down again. Her head drooped like a heavy 
 flower, her hands fell listlessly into her lap. A sud 
 den draft distracted the candle and sent her shadow, 
 distorted, to and fro upon the roof. Then footsteps 
 were heard on the floor below, and a door slammed 
 again. She looked up to say: 
 
 "Father has come home. Shall we tell him, now?" 
 
548 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Must we?" 
 
 "I would rather wait. I can t stand anything more, 
 yet. I want to think it out. I am too puzzled and I 
 am fighting against this too hard, now. Let me get 
 hold of myself first. Perhaps we can get down with 
 out his hearing us, if we wait a little while. He has 
 gone to his room." 
 
 "That s the best way, if we can. There ll be a 
 scene and I am not ready for that, either. I will 
 tell him later or you may." 
 
 "No, it should be you. How can I talk to him ?" 
 
 "I can t tell how he ll take it. I m sure, now, 
 that he has been looking for me for Madam Grant s 
 child for some time, and Vixley was undoubtedly 
 leading him on, promising to find his son. But now, 
 when he knows it is I, after the way he has treated 
 me, how will he feel?" 
 
 "Oh, be sure he will be kind !" 
 
 "It doesn t matter much. I shall not trouble him. 
 I shall go away, of course." 
 
 "Oh, I can t bear it ! I can t give you up ! Oh, I m 
 sure it isn t right. I can t believe it, even yet !" 
 
 "Let s go down!" he said sharply. "I can t stand 
 it any longer. My blood cries out for you! When I 
 think that I have held you in my arms " 
 
 "Yes, come! Don t speak like that or I shall 
 forget everything else." 
 
 He took the candle and lighted her down the steps, 
 then followed her quietly. Together they crept along 
 the hall and down the stairway to the lower hall. As 
 they got there, the cuckoo-clock hiccoughed, five min 
 utes before the hour. 
 
 She stood for a moment looking at him, her eyes 
 
MASTERSON S MANOEUVERS 549 
 
 burning. Her peignoir fell in long, graceful lines, 
 suggesting her gracile figure. One braid had fallen 
 over her shoulder across her breast to below her 
 waist. Her beauty smote his senses. 
 
 "To-morrow is Saturday," he said. "I shall come 
 up to see your father in the afternoon. You had 
 better be away, if you can." 
 
 "I shall be away," she said dully. 
 
 "I ll have it out with him settle it beyond all 
 doubt, and then " 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "I shall try to show you what you have made of me. 
 I shall not see you till we have conquered this thing !" 
 
 "Oh, Francis, if I could only feel that it is wrong- 
 but I can t. It seems so right, so natural. I shall 
 not change. I have given myself to you, and I can 
 not take myself back. If there is fighting against 
 it to be done, you must do it for both of us. You 
 must decide." 
 
 "I shall take care of you, Clytie. That will be my 
 brother s duty." 
 
 "Yes," she said, drooping, "you must help me. 
 I can t help you any more. I have done what I can, 
 but you have passed me now, and you are the master." 
 
 "I must begin now, then, and go. Good-by!" 
 
 She gave him her hands, and he took them for a 
 moment, then flung himself away before their deli 
 cacy could work on him. With a sudden smile, he 
 turned to the door and was gone. 
 
 She stood, limp and weak, watching him till the 
 door closed. Then the cuckoo-clock broke the silence 
 with its interminable midnight clatter, persistent, mad 
 dening. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE SUNRISE 
 
 Clytie met her father, next morning, showing no 
 trace of what she had suffered during the night. He 
 himself had enough to think about without noticing 
 her demeanor. 
 
 On Saturday the papers had, after considerable in 
 vestigation of the matter, called public attention to 
 the doings of spiritualistic mediums in San Francisco, 
 and were full of exposures. Vixley s record was 
 given, and it was sensational enough to make it ad 
 visable for the Professor to leave town till the scandal 
 blew over. Flora Flint was reported to have fled at 
 the same time, and, it was presumed, in the same 
 direction. Other mediums not concerned in this affair 
 were interviewed, and pseudo-confessions extorted 
 from their dupes. The Spiritualistic Society protested 
 in vain that none of the mediums exposed had ever 
 been in good standing with that body of true be 
 lievers the wave of gossip drowned its voice. San 
 Francisco was the largest spiritualistic community in 
 the United States, probably in the world, but, for a 
 while at least, it would be less easy for clairvoyants 
 and psychometrists to earn a living. This outburst 
 was one of the periodic upheavals of reform, but the 
 talk would soon die down and business would be re 
 sumed in perfect safety by the charlatans. There 
 would be a new crop of dupes to cajole. 
 
 Clytie and her father both avoided the subject. 
 550 
 
THE SUNRISE 551 
 
 Breakfast passed silently, and at nine o clock Mr. 
 Payson left the house. Clytie went about her work 
 automatically; answered a few letters, listlessly re 
 arranged her jewelry in its casket, sorted the leaves 
 of a book she had taken apart to rebind, cut the pages 
 of a magazine, set her tools in order on the bench. 
 From time to time she went to the front window to 
 look out, returning to stand for minutes at a time in 
 the center of the room, as if she had forgotten what 
 she had intended to do. At ten o clock she lay down 
 upon the couch in the library and fell into a deep 
 sleep of exhaustion, the first rest she had obtained 
 since midnight. 
 
 She was awakened by the door-bell, and had barely 
 time to hurry into her chamber before the door was 
 answered. There, word was brought to her that Mr. 
 Cayley wished to see her. She bathed her eyes, 
 smoothed her hair, put on her Chinese sa am, and a 
 jade necklace over her house-frock and went down to 
 him. Her face was resolutely set, her eyes had a 
 cold luster. 
 
 "How d you do, Blan?" she said, holding out her 
 hand to him. "I m so glad to see you !" 
 
 It was a warmer greeting than he had received for 
 some time, but he did not appear surprised. He 
 drew off his gloves, looking admiringly at her. 
 
 "I didn t feel like work, to-day, so I thought I 
 would run out and see you." 
 
 "You certainly are devoted ! I shall have to reward 
 you by being very nice." 
 
 He smiled. "I m glad you re beginning to appre 
 ciate me." 
 
 "Meaning that in the dictionary sense of the word, 
 
552 THE HEART LINE 
 
 or the common interpretation?" she said, seating her 
 self. 
 
 "Both. They re the same, in my case. If I had 
 suspected that you were going to be so amiable " 
 
 "I m always ready to be that if you ll let me." 
 
 This was enough unlike her ordinary manner to 
 ward him to make him give her a look-over for an 
 explanation. "All right, I ll take you up," he said. 
 "Just how amiable are you prepared to be?" He sat 
 down opposite her. 
 
 "That s for you to find out!" 
 
 "Well. I ll try to discover the line of least re 
 sistance." 
 
 "Oh, you needn t be so elaborate, Blanchard. You 
 never really need more than half the subtlety you 
 waste on me. I m quite a simple person!" 
 
 "Still waters " he began. 
 
 She lifted her shoulders and her brows. 
 
 "Run cold !" he finished, and caught a smile. 
 
 "I wonder if I am cold !" she said. 
 
 "Granthope didn t succeed in firing you?" 
 
 She showed no evidence of pain except that the 
 two lines appeared in her forehead suddenly. Then 
 she shook her head as if to cast off some annoyance. 
 
 "Oh, you re quite off the track, there. Don t make 
 it harder for yourself than necessary. What did you 
 come to-day for? Tell me!" 
 
 He laughed comfortably and said, "Reconnaissance/ 
 
 "I thought there was a reason. Well, reconnoiter 
 away ! Your precautions are infinite !" Her chin 
 went up. 
 
 "That s one of the qualities of genius, I believe. 
 I think in the end I shall justify my system." 
 
THE SUNRISE 553 
 
 "You haven t produced any psychological condition 
 yet, then?" She looked at him with her eyebrows 
 raised. No smile. 
 
 "Not quite." 
 
 "Hasn t it ever occurred to you that" her eyes 
 sought his with a quick glance, and drifted away 
 "that such a condition might come without your 
 having produced it yourself? Accidentally, so to 
 speak?" 
 
 "I confess I haven t been modest enough to antici 
 pate that." 
 
 "I thought you were a diagnostician, as well as a 
 physician!" She threw another quick look at him, 
 withdrawing her eyes immediately. 
 
 "Prognosis is my specialty." 
 
 "Oh, I shall take care of myself." 
 
 "There s no defense like a vigorous attack." 
 
 "I m not going after you," she protested. 
 
 "But is there a psychological condition, Cly?" 
 
 "That s not fair. You ought to be able to tell, 
 yourself it s your own theory. The trouble is that 
 you re too theoretical. You ve left me quite out of 
 the question and tried to do it all yourself." 
 
 She put her head on one side with unaccustomed 
 coquetry. There was a new glitter in her eyes which 
 seemed to baffle him. For the first time she had the 
 upper hand of him at his own game. He was like a 
 man who had started to lift a heavy weight and had 
 suddenly found it unexpectedly light. The reaction 
 threw him over. 
 
 "Are you willing to help?" he asked. 
 
 "Ah, if you had only begun that way!" 
 "Cly tie do you mean " 
 
554 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, I don t mean anything." She got up and 
 took a turn about the room restlessly as she spoke. 
 "It s my turn to be theoretical, that s all." 
 
 He leaned toward her very seriously. "Clyde, I m 
 terribly in earnest." 
 
 "I d like more proof of it." 
 
 "Would you ? What proof can I give ?" 
 
 "There you are on the other side, now, making ma 
 do more than my share. I don t intend to teach you, 
 you know !" She walked away, her hands behind her 
 back. 
 
 "Could you, if you wanted to?" 
 
 "Oh, I think I might show you a few things. I 
 have my ideas most women have, you know. Per 
 haps I m not quite so cold as you think." She shut 
 her eyes a moment and trembled. "But there s 
 plenty of time." 
 
 He let that go, gazing with curiosity at the spots of 
 red on her cheeks. It was not a blush ; the color 
 was sustained. She never looked at him steadily, 
 giving him only a flashing glance, now and again. 
 Her nostrils were expanded, her head was held majes 
 tically erect. There was, indeed, plenty of time 
 for him, and he took it coolly. He betrayed still a 
 puzzled interest that of a hunter whose quarry was 
 fluttering so that he could not get in his shot. 
 
 "You re looking very beautiful, to-day, Cly." 
 
 "To-day?" She emphasized the word. 
 
 He laughed. "That s the time I put the mucilage 
 brush in the ink-bottle ! Queer how hard it is to 
 give a girl a compliment that she ll accept." 
 
 "I beg pardon it was ungracious of me. Try me 
 again." 
 
THE SUNRISE 555 
 
 "No, I was clumsy. But compliments aren t my 
 business. I m not a palmist, you see." 
 
 Again she drew back her head with a shake. "I 
 think I told you that Mr. Granthope is my friend?" 
 Her voice trembled a little. 
 
 She walked to the fireplace and stood there, leaning 
 her back against the mantel, tapping her heel against 
 the fender. 
 
 "I told you he wouldn t last long," Cayley went on. 
 "He s come down like the stick of a rocket. I sus 
 pected he d be leaving town before the month was 
 out." 
 
 "Leaving town what d you mean?" She was keen, 
 now. 
 
 "I had to go up into the Geary Building this morn 
 ing, and I saw his boxes outside the door as I 
 passed. I took it that he s leaving. You ought to 
 know, I should think if he s your friend!" 
 
 She walked up to the window and back before an 
 swering. Then she came up to him with: 
 
 "You needn t be afraid, Blanchard; I m not going 
 to elope with him." 
 
 "That s good. It gives you a chance to elope with 
 m*!* 
 
 "Oh, it s all planned, then? How exciting!" 
 
 "I was invited up to the tavern on Tamalpais and 
 bring a girl for over Sunday. Mrs. Page is the 
 chaperon she calls it a sunrise party/ Will you 
 come ?" 
 
 She lifted her eyebrows. "Mrs. Page ? Chaperon ?" 
 
 He smiled. "Oh, you needn t worry ; she s all right. 
 Not exactly your class, but you needn t mind that 
 you ll make it proper by going yourself !" 
 
556 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "You really want me to go with Mrs. Page?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "It sounds a bit gay you know I m not exactly 
 accustomed to that sort of thing " 
 
 "You mustn t believe the stories you hear of her." 
 
 "I ll go and find out!" she exclaimed suddenly. 
 "Yes, I ll go; what time does the boat go?" Her 
 mood had grown almost eager. 
 
 "We can just catch the one forty-five. I ll ring 
 them up and let them know we re coming." 
 
 "No I want to see her face when she first sees me. 
 Mrs. Page!" she laughed to herself grimly. 
 
 "Cly, what s the matter with you to-day?" he de 
 manded, turning upon her suspiciously. 
 
 She opened her eyes very wide. "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, you re different." 
 
 "So are you!" Another quick glance at him. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Nicer." How she drew the word out! 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Why, you re actually letting me go with Mrs. 
 Page. You never would, before." She laughed in his 
 face, but the ring sounded metallic. 
 
 "Oh, well I didn t think you wanted to. I didn t 
 think you and she would get on." 
 
 "Oh, you ll see how we ll get on! Blanchard, you 
 never suspected I had any spirit, I suppose?" 
 
 "Where did you get it?" 
 
 "Guess!" 
 
 He dared not; but appeared to take the credit to 
 himself. He began actually to take fire. Clytie v/as a 
 revelation in this tantalizing mood. Where had her 
 classic reserves gone? What had inspired her? Now 
 
THE SUNRISE 557 
 
 she was like other girls most alluringly like those he 
 had "educated." Perhaps, after all, women were all 
 alike, as he had long maintained, in theory. All this 
 was evident in his pursuit of her but even now it 
 was a cautious chase. He made sure of every foot 
 of the way. 
 
 "I wish we weren t old friends," he said. "It is 
 a handicap, isn t it? If I didn t know you so well " 
 
 "Oh, I ll show you things you never knew!" she 
 interrupted, playing up harder and harder. "Don t 
 be afraid of my resources. I have a trick or two up 
 my sleeve. We ll forget we were friends and get ac 
 quainted all over. Come, be a Martian burst a new 
 brain cell, as I have!" She gave another dry laugh. 
 
 "It will be dangerous," he warned. 
 
 "Pooh!" She snapped her fingers at him. 
 
 He seized her hand and tried to hold it. 
 
 "Not yet!" she said, and shook her finger fantas 
 tically. 
 
 So, like a wounded bird, she lured him away from 
 her nest. The luncheon-bell rescued her. She could 
 not have lasted much longer. During the luncheon, 
 she kept him skilfully at arm s length, and before they 
 had finished, Mr. Payson came in and surprised them 
 and himself. 
 
 When Clytie went up-stairs to prepare for the trip 
 he put his hand cordially on Cayley s shoulder. 
 
 "Well, I m glad to see you and Clytie on such good 
 terms. It looks like old times." 
 
 "I think perhaps the modern method is going to 
 succeed," Cayley said with a satisfied smile. "Cly s 
 been nicer than she has been for weeks. I hear Grant- 
 hope s disposed of." 
 
558 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Oh, I guess I finished him. I gave him a piece of 
 my mind, and her, too. Cly s got too much sense not 
 to see through him. I hope you ll win her, Blanchard. 
 I m getting to be an old man, and I want to see her 
 happily settled. This exposure has hit me pretty 
 hard, and if Clytie had taken up with that palmist on 
 top of that, I don t know what I d do. Go in and 
 get her, Blanchard I m glad she s consented to go 
 off on this trip. It ll do her good. It ought to give 
 you a good chance." 
 
 "You can trust me for that! I think the time has 
 about come to force the game. I may have something 
 to say to you by the time we come back." 
 
 "1 hope so, indeed!" said the old man. 
 
 Clytie came down with her bag and kissed her 
 father affectionately. "Are you going to be at home 
 this afternoon?" she asked him. 
 
 "Why, yes, I thought of it. Is there anything I can 
 do for you ?" 
 
 She hesitated. "N-no, only if any one should call 
 never mind only there s no knowing when we may be 
 back," she added, looking at Cayley. "Blanchard has 
 threatened to elope with me, you know ! I m terribly 
 afraid he won t keep his promise, though." She took 
 his arm and ran him down the steps madly, tossing 
 her father a kiss from the path. 
 
 Mr. Payson watched them complacently, as Clytie 
 hurried her escort through the gate. They had plenty 
 of time to catch the boat, and her haste was unusual. 
 She had hinted that the clock was slow, but his watch 
 assured him that that was not so. He shook his head. 
 
 They had not been gone fifteen minutes when word 
 was brought up-stairs to Mr. Payson that a gentle- 
 
THE SUNRISE 559 
 
 man was waiting to see him. The visitor would not 
 give his name. The old man went down. 
 
 At sight of the caller, his face set hard and grim. 
 His shaggy brows drew over his spectacles. He 
 stopped suddenly, but, before he could speak, Grant- 
 hope had come forward. 
 
 "I must beg your pardon, Mr. Payson, for not 
 sending up my name, for coming here at all, in fact; 
 but it is absolutely necessary for me to see you this 
 afternoon. My business is important enough to be 
 its own apology." 
 
 "Sit down, sir!" said the old man, taking a chair 
 himself, and speaking with deliberation. "I will listen 
 to what you have to say, but let it be brief. After our 
 last interview it must be important, indeed, to bring 
 you to my house after my expressed request that you 
 should stay away." 
 
 Granthope remained standing. "It is an extraor 
 dinary thing that has brought me; but if it were not 
 as important to you as it is to me, you may be sure I 
 wouldn t have consented to come." 
 
 "Let me say right here, young man, that I suspect 
 your business is nothing more or less than blackmail, 
 in some form. It is what I expected. But I tell you 
 in advance that it will be no use, and, at the first hint 
 of extortion, I shall notify the police!" 
 
 Granthope smiled. "I could hardly call it black 
 mail," he said. "I ve never included that in my list 
 of tricks." 
 
 "What the devil is it, then? Out with it! If it s 
 bad news, let me have it point-blank, without beating 
 about the bush. I have seen enough of your sort to 
 know that you wouldn t come here except for money, 
 
560 THE HEART LINE 
 
 whatever you say. But I m a little wiser than I was 
 three months ago, I can tell you ! I ve had my lesson, 
 and you ll get nothing out of me." He grew more and 
 more excited over his grievance. 
 
 "You remember that I warned you against that 
 gang?" Granthope interposed. 
 
 "Yes, and they warned me against you, too ! Birds 
 of a feather! Only I suspect you of being a little 
 shrewder." 
 
 "Mr. Payson," Granthope said earnestly, "I can t 
 bear these insinuations ! Give me a chance, at least, 
 before you condemn me. I ll tell you in four words 
 what I came for, before you say anything more that 
 you will have to regret. I have good reason to believe 
 that I am your son!" 
 
 The old man rose from his chair and shook his 
 finger in Granthope s face. "That s all I want to 
 hear!" he thundered. "Leave my house immediately, 
 sir ! My son, are you ? I thought so ! Good God, 
 wasn t it enough for Vixley and the Spoil woman to 
 try and work that game on me, that you have to come 
 and begin where they left off? After I had found 
 them out, too! Do you take me for a damned fool? 
 Why, you people don t even know when you re shown 
 up ! You get out of my house before I kick you out !" 
 He strode to the door, lowering, and held it sug 
 gestively open. 
 
 Granthope stared at him in astonishment, with no 
 thought of moving. This was the last thing he had 
 expected. At first his surprise was too great for his 
 hopes to rise. He thought of nothing but the angry 
 man in front of him, wondering why he should deny 
 the truth so vindictively. 
 
THE SUNRISE 561 
 
 "Do you mean to say that I am not your son?" he 
 said, with a queer perplexed hesitation. 
 
 "I ask you to leave my house, sir ! Do you think 
 I ll permit myself to discuss such a subject with you?" 
 Mr. Payson s scorn was towering. 
 
 Granthope still stared. What did it mean? He 
 spoke again, earnestly, trying his best to keep calm. 
 "Do you deny that you have a son, sir? I beg you 
 to answer me." 
 
 "What the devil should I deny it for? What busi 
 ness is it of yours?" the old man roared. "Why 
 should you come here asking me such outrageous 
 questions ?" 
 
 "Mr. Payson," Granthope tried again, "I told you 
 that I had reason to believe that I am your son. 
 You must admit that that gives me an interest in the 
 matter. I have never known who my parents were. 
 You needn t be afraid of my forcing myself upon you 
 against your will, or attempting to get money from 
 you that is not my motive. But I have a right, 
 for my own sake, to know the truth, and I demand 
 that you answer!" 
 
 The old man quailed before his look and his serious 
 ness, and began to be impressed with his sincerity. 
 "Very well, then, I will answer you. No, sir, you 
 are not my son, because I never had one, to my know 
 ledge, at least. Does that satisfy you? Vixley and 
 the Spoil woman tried that game on me and failed. 
 Now, I ll ask you to leave me alone in peace. I 
 have had trouble enough!" His first burst of anger 
 having burned itself out, he weakened under the 
 strain. 
 
 Granthope was for a moment at a loss for words. 
 
562 THE HEART LINE 
 
 He was not prepared for this denial he must begin 
 all over again. He stood with his hands folded for a 
 while, and then said: 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Payson. I will tell you now what I 
 know, and you may judge of yourself whether or not 
 I was justified in coming." 
 
 The old man s countenance was irresolute; his 
 mouth had relaxed. He faced Granthope silently. 
 
 "Did you ever know Felicia Grant?" said Granthope 
 next. 
 
 Mr. Payson exploded again. "Oh, you ve got hold 
 of that, have you? I thought as much. So you ve 
 been in league with that gang all along! I see; all 
 this pretended enmity was only a part of the game! 
 Very clever, sir, very clever!" He began to walk 
 up and down, bobbing his head. 
 
 "I lived with Madam Grant when I was a child," 
 Granthope persisted calmly. 
 
 "What s that?" Mr. Payson went up to him, now, 
 and took him by the arm. "For God s sake, man, 
 don t lie to me!" 
 
 "I lived with her for three years. I was with her 
 when she died " 
 
 "You!" the old man exclaimed. He stared into 
 Granthope s face as if he could surprise the truth 
 from him. "If I could be sure of that!" he cried in 
 distress. "For God s sake, don t play with me !" he 
 implored. "I have no faith in any one any more. 
 How can I believe you?" 
 
 Granthope dropped his voice to a soothing pitch 
 and took the old man s hand in his with a firm clasp 
 of assurance. "My dear Mr. Payson," he said, "I 
 can give you plenty of proof of it, if you will only 
 
THE SUNRISE 563 
 
 listen to me. I came to her, where from I never 
 knew, as a child of five. She took me in, and I lived 
 with her till she died. She was like a mother to me 
 I would be glad to hear that she was really my mother, 
 for I loved her. I have come to you because I thought 
 that she must have been that, and you my father. 
 But I would be the happiest man alive if you could 
 assure me that there is no relationship between you 
 and me. What I know of you, I found out through 
 Masterson and he may have lied, but it seemed 
 probable that it was true. I beg you to tell me the 
 truth, for if you are my father it means more to 
 me than anything else in the world." 
 
 "I think I can believe you now," said Mr. Payson, 
 still with his eyes fastened on Granthope. "You seem 
 to be honest, though I have about lost my faith in 
 human nature. So I will be honest with you. But 
 I can only repeat what I told you before. You are 
 not my son. I never had a son." 
 
 A wild hope sprang up in Granthope s heart ; though 
 as yet it seemed impossible. "But you knew Felicia 
 Grant?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed; I knew her well." 
 
 "Your picture was in her room an old newspaper 
 cut" 
 
 The old man grasped his hand again with both his 
 own. "Ah, I know you are the boy, now!" he ex 
 claimed. "I have looked everywhere for you ! Thank 
 God, I have found you before it was too late ! Do you 
 know how I have longed for you for twenty years ? 
 for the boy who stood by Felicia through that long, 
 terrible time, when I could do nothing nothing? 
 Granthope, I don t care "what you have been 
 
564 THE HEART LINE 
 
 charlatan or fakir or criminal, there s a debt I owe 
 you, and I shall pay it ! Oh, you don t know ! You 
 don t know!" He stopped and held out his hands 
 pathetically. "Why, it was to find you that I first 
 went to Madam Spoil ! I don t know how I can 
 apologize or make up for the way I ve treated you 
 you, of all men in the world !" 
 
 "But I can t understand yet," said Granthope, 
 touched at the old man s atonement. "I heard from 
 Vixley, it came that you had acknowledged you 
 must forgive me to an illegitimate son. Can you 
 blame me for thinking that it must be I ?" 
 
 The old man dropped his head on his hand. "I 
 see, now," he said drearily. "Oh, it must all come 
 out, I suppose. I owe it to you to tell you, at least." 
 
 "You need tell me nothing more than you have 
 told," Granthope said eagerly. "I didn t come here 
 to pry into your secrets, Mr. Pay son, or to make use 
 of them." 
 
 "Oh, I know, now! But it is hard to speak. And 
 I don t know even whether I have the right to tell 
 or not. It s not my secret alone. But tell me first 
 what else you know." He took a chair again and 
 motioned for Granthope to sit down. 
 
 "I know that Madam Grant had a wedding trous 
 seau that she kept in a trunk, and that the same trunk 
 with the same contents, is now up-stairs in your gar 
 ret." 
 
 "How can you know that?" 
 
 "I saw it last night. Your daughter showed it to 
 me." 
 
 "Clytie she showed it to you? You were here? 
 How could that be?" 
 
THE SUNRISE 565 
 
 "It means, Mr. Payson, that I love your daughter 
 that we love each other. There is no time to explain 
 how that came about, now, but I hope to prove to 
 you that I am worthy of her. We have met often 
 since you forbade me to come here. We were tacitly 
 engaged, when I got this information that you had 
 a child and that Felicia Grant was the mother. 
 There was only one solution of the mystery that I 
 was that child, and that Clytie and I were half-brother 
 and sister. We had to be sure before we broke off 
 our affair, and I came up here to identify the trunk 
 she had seen. I had to tell her what I thought was 
 the truth, and last night we parted for ever. You 
 may imagine now how I long to believe what you 
 say, yet how impossible it seems!" 
 
 "Clytie knows that I had a child, by Felicia?" 
 
 "I had to tell her I could not let things go on " 
 
 "Ah, now I see how Madam Spoil went astray 
 I confessed to a child I wanted to find the boy she 
 thought the two were the same she jumped to the 
 conclusion that I had had a son." 
 
 "And you had no son?" Granthope said, still mysti 
 fied. 
 
 "No, I had a daughter. Do you see, now ? I hoped 
 to hide it from Clytie for ever. I thought I had 
 hidden it successfully, and it was better for her, so. 
 But now, if she knows so much, she must, of course, 
 be told all. It is right that she should know. Poor 
 child ! But you knew Felicia you know that she was 
 no common woman that ours could have been no 
 common affair!" 
 
 "I know that well. And you needn t fear for Clytie, 
 Mr. Payson. I don t think it will be even a shock 
 
566 THE HEART LINE 
 
 for her. It isn t as if she had known Mrs. Payson 
 well" 
 
 The old man leaned back in his chair and closed his 
 eyes. "Ah, they were two wonderful women, Grant- 
 hope ! I could scarcely know which was the more so 
 which was the more magnanimous and true!" He 
 was quiet a while, then he added : "Do you remember 
 Felicia well?" 
 
 "No, not well. I was young then, and the memory 
 has faded. But she seemed to be very beautiful to 
 me, though her face would often grow suddenly 
 strange. She was kind to me. She seemed to be 
 extraordinarily well educated, too different from 
 any one else I have ever known." 
 
 Mr. Payson rose and saying, "Wait a moment, 
 please !" left the room. He returned after a few min 
 utes with a small photograph, faded with age, but 
 still clear enough to portray the features of a beautiful 
 woman, apparently of some twenty years or so. The 
 face was frank and open, the eyes wide apart under 
 level brows, looking directly out of the picture. The 
 mouth was large, but well-formed. The face had 
 a look of candor and serene earnestness that was en 
 gaging. 
 
 "That was taken in 1869, when I first knew her. 
 You can see, perhaps, how I must have felt towards 
 her. There is enough of Clytie in that face for that, 
 I suppose. But I doubt if you are capable of the 
 passion I had for that woman !" 
 
 As Granthope held the portrait in his hand, watch 
 ing the face that grew every moment more familiar, 
 the old man went on: 
 
 "I can tell you only the outline of the story now. 
 
THE SUNRISE 567 
 
 Felicia Gerard, when I first knew her, was working 
 with Mrs. Victoria Woodhull a wonderful woman 
 have you ever heard of her?" 
 
 Granthope told him of the newspaper clipping Cly- 
 tie had found, and how they had, in the library, looked 
 up the history of Mrs. Woodhull, who had been a 
 prominent figure in the East thirty years ago. It was 
 more unusual, then, for women to compete with men 
 in business affairs, but she, with her sister, had car 
 ried on a successful banking firm on Wall Street. 
 What had interested Clytie most, however, were the 
 stories of Mrs. Woodhull s early experience as a me 
 dium, and the fact that she had been calumniated, 
 persecuted and ostracized on account of the false inter 
 pretation of her views upon social questions. 
 
 "You may imagine the effect that such a person 
 would have upon such a spirited girl as Felicia," said 
 Mr. Payson. "She was carried away with her enthusi 
 asm and energy, and the conflict inspired her. I 
 followed them from city to city, urging Felicia to 
 marry me, but, having adopted the radical social 
 theories of that cult, she was firm in her refusal not to 
 bind herself or me to an indissoluble union. Well, I 
 could get her in no other way than by accepting her as 
 a partner who should be free to leave me the moment 
 she ceased to love me; you may be sure that her ac 
 tion was inspired only by the highest ideality. We 
 settled finally in New Orleans where, for some time, 
 we were absolutely happy. But New Orleans was, 
 and is, I believe, a more conservative sort of commun 
 ity than most American cities. People shunned us, 
 and talked. At last, isolated and away from radical 
 centers, she consented to a marriage ceremony, and 
 
568 THE HEART LINE 
 
 went to work to prepare her trousseau. We were to 
 be married in San Francisco." 
 
 The old man s face had grown wistful and tender as 
 he spoke. He pulled off his spectacles to wipe them, 
 and looked up at Granthope with a sort of pride in the 
 story, in the beauty and pathos of it evoked by his 
 memories. Then he rose, and walked up and down the 
 floor, his hands behind his back, and his mellow, unc 
 tuous voice ran on. To Granthope, who had known 
 the woman, and loved her, the story thrilled with 
 romance. 
 
 "It was curious that she insisted upon a formal 
 wedding. It was a reaction, I suppose; she had re 
 turned to the normal instincts of womanhood. I was 
 only too willing. Well, it was in New Orleans that 
 the crisis came. We were living in an old Creole 
 house on Royal Street it had been Paul Morphy s, 
 the chess-player Felicia saw his spirit in the end 
 room, where he died, one night. There was an old 
 gallery around the courtyard and garden, with mag 
 nolia trees, where we used to sit in the evenings. 
 Heavens! what nights we have spent there! 
 
 "She had told me that her grandmother had been 
 insane. It was Felicia s horror, her dread. The 
 spirits had told her that she would go mad, too. That 
 was, I suppose, the real reason why she had refused 
 so long to marry me. But she had almost forgotten 
 about it by this time. We were happy enough to 
 forget everything! 
 
 "Are you interested, Granthope, or does this bore 
 you?" he added suddenly, turning. "I m an old man, 
 after all, and I have an old man s ways. The past 
 is very real to me." 
 
THE SUNRISE 569 
 
 "Go on, please!" said Granthope huskily. 
 
 "It happened just before Mardi Gras. We had de 
 cided to stay over, and see the fun. That Monday, 
 when I came home, Felicia was gone. She had left 
 a note, saying that she would never see me again 
 I ll show you that and a lot of other things; they 
 will help you to understand Clytie. It seems that 
 day she had gone suddenly out of her head and had 
 wandered across the street to another house, where 
 they kept a leper girl shut up in a room on the gallery. 
 They carried her home, raving rather wildly, and she 
 came to her senses in an hour or so, but she was terri 
 fied by the attack. She saw that she would probably be 
 subject to such attacks in the future ; that they might 
 become worse; that it was not fair to me to marry. 
 I don t need to tell you, I hope, that it would have 
 made no difference to me I would have been glad to 
 give my life to attending to her through thick and 
 thin. But she didn t wait to put it to me. She left, 
 with all her clothes, even the trousseau. She left no 
 address, nothing by which I could trace her. That 
 was her way, the only fair way, she thought. It must 
 have taken some courage. It was, I think, the bravest 
 thing I ever saw done. 
 
 "Let me see that photograph a minute, Granthope. 
 What a lot of hair she had ! I ve seen it to her feet. 
 Cly has fine hair, but not like her mother s. The 
 same eyes, you see full of dreams, but they wake up, 
 sometimes, I tell you ! You may find out, sometime. 
 Level brows and a fullish lower lip. Do you know 
 what that means ? I do. 
 
 "I didn t see her again for over a year. I hunted 
 everywhere she had ever been; Boston, Toledo, New 
 
570 THE HEART LINE 
 
 York, everywhere! Finally I gave it up in despair, 
 and went abroad, trying to forget part of it. There I 
 met my wife. I married her in sheer despair; but I 
 found out how fine she was when I told her the story. 
 I didn t think that there were two such women in the 
 world! I have a beautiful painting of her, done 
 while we were in Florence, but I never dared to put it 
 up, on account of Clytie. It didn t seem right. But 
 you ll see it in the dining-room to-morrow, I think. 
 
 "Where was I? Oh, yes. We came to San Fran 
 cisco for business reasons. Before I had been here a 
 week I happened upon Felicia down-town she had 
 followed Mrs. Woodhull s example and had gone into 
 business herself real estate. She did well at it, too. 
 But at sight of me she flew off the handle. Every 
 time I saw her it affected her in the same way. Good 
 God ! Can you imagine what it must be to know that 
 the only way you can help a woman you love and 
 pity is to stay away from her ? I couldn t do anything, 
 but ray wife went to see her and seemed to be able to 
 pacify her. She found out that Felicia had a child 
 then a few months old. The first I knew of it, the 
 baby was here in the house, and my wife told me that 
 we would adopt her. No one ever knew that Clytie 
 wasn t our own child. No one knows but you and 
 I, to this day, I think. 
 
 "It was a fearful injustice to her, I suppose. Do 
 you think she can forgive me?" The old man was 
 pathetically humble and looked to the young man as 
 to a guardian. 
 
 "Mr. Payson," said Granthope, "have you lived all 
 this while with her and not known that? I have 
 known her only two months, and I am sure of it 1" 
 
THE SUNRISE 571 
 
 "So you think you love her, do you ?" Mr. Payson 
 looked at him curiously. 
 
 "I do, sir. And I think that she loves me." 
 
 "Felicia s adopted boy !" the old man said to him 
 self, "and Clytie ! And to think that I had wanted her 
 to marry Cayley!" 
 
 He broke off to stand, staring at Granthope, with 
 out a word. Then he exclaimed : "By Jove ! I had 
 forgotten. Cayley was here to-day Cly s gone off 
 with him, up to Mount Tamalpais, to join a party 
 there. Now I recall it there seemed to be something 
 between them. You are sure she cares for you?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "Last night she did and we parted, thinking never 
 to be able to see one another again." 
 
 "And I did my best to make that match I en 
 couraged Blanchard all I could. I threw her at his 
 head! I found them here at luncheon. He s been 
 trying for years to get her to marry him. You don t 
 think it s possible that she would do anything rash, 
 do you?" 
 
 Granthope s heart sickened. "In what way? 
 How?" 
 
 "She said what was it the last thing. She said 
 that he had threatened to elope with her, and perhaps 
 they mightn t come back for some time. I thought it 
 was a joke, but now I think of it " 
 
 Granthope sprang up. "What time did they go?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Just before you came they took the one forty- 
 five." 
 
 "We can t reach her by telephone they re not there 
 yet. What time does the next train go?" 
 
572 THE HEART LINE 
 
 Mr Payson turned to an Argonaut and looked 
 at the time-table on the last page. "Saturdays four 
 thirty-five," he said. 
 
 "I must go after her !" Granhope cried, almost des 
 perate. "Don t you see don t you know women well 
 enough to understand what a state of mind she must 
 be in, now? After our scene last night, the despair 
 of it would drive her to almost anything reckless, 
 anything to make her forget! It seemed wicked, 
 monstrous, for us to meet again it seemed irrevoca 
 ble, final. If Cayley has been pursuing her, as you 
 say, she may accept him in sheer desperation !" 
 
 "Go up there," said the old man. "Go up, and tell 
 her everything. It is better for you to tell her. Cay- 
 ley will resent your appearance, but don t mind that 
 get rid of him at any cost. You will have to manage 
 him. If Clytie is in love with you, I ll stand by her in 
 whatever she says. Don t think I m a doting fool, 
 Granthope, that I veer with the wind, this way. I 
 wanted her to marry Cayley, because I thought she d 
 never know this, and he was a man of honor and 
 intelligence. But I didn t know that Felicia s boy was 
 alive." 
 
 Granthope left in a tumult of doubt. He knew 
 little of Cayley, save that he was subtle and indefati 
 gable with women and that he was unscrupulous 
 enough to have betrayed his friend to Vixley. But 
 how far Clytie s revulsion of feeling would have car 
 ried her by this time, he dared not think. She was in 
 a parlous state, and ripe for any extreme impulse. 
 
 The trip to Sausalito was almost intolerable. On 
 the train to Mill Valley, his anxiety smoldered till 
 
THE SUNRISE 573 
 
 his spirit was ashes. His mind fought all the way up 
 the mountain track, faring to and fro, sinuously, as 
 the line wound, in tortuous loops, gaining altitude in 
 tempered grades. As they rose, the bay unfolded, 
 shimmering below, curving about the peninsula of 
 San Francisco, where, amidst the pearl-gray, the win 
 dows of the city caught, here and there, the level 
 rays from the vivid west. The air was cool and salt. 
 As they rounded a spur, the Pacific burst upon them, 
 miles and miles of twinkling sparks on the dullness 
 of the sea floor. A bank of fog hovered upon the 
 horizon. Just above it the sun poised, then sank, 
 bloody red, tingeing the cloud with color and sending 
 streamers to the zenith. Still his mind urged the 
 train to its climb. It was as if he put his shoulder to 
 the car to impel it upward in his haste, so intense was 
 his expectancy. So, at last, the train rolled up to the 
 station by the Tavern. 
 
 There was a crowd waiting upon the platform, and 
 his eyes sought here and there for Clytie. There 
 she was, incongruous with the party Cayley, easy, 
 jocose, elegant Mrs. Page, full-blown, sumptuous 
 and glossy, abandoned to frivolity, her black hair 
 blowing in the wind and Gay P. Summer, jaunty, 
 pink-and-white, immaculate in outing attire. There 
 was another lady whom Granthope did not know. He 
 walked rapidly up to them, calm, now, and confident, 
 equal to the situation, whatever it might be. 
 
 Mrs. Page pounced upon him with a little scream 
 of delight, and towed him up to the group, Clyde s 
 narrow eyes widened in surprise, and she turned paler 
 as she looked at him in vain for an answer to her 
 signal of distress. 
 
574 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Why, Mr. Granthope!" Mrs. Page shouted. "Did 
 you ever in your life ! What fun ! Aren t you a duck 
 to come you re just the man we want! If I had 
 imagined that you could be induced to come up here, 
 I would have let you know ! But then, probably, you 
 wouldn t have come ! We needed another man so 
 badly ! I m so glad ! I think you know all of us 
 here, except Miss Cavendish, don t you? Miss Caven 
 dish, let me present Mr. Granthope. You know I ve 
 told you about him." 
 
 Miss Cavendish smiled, looked him over with un 
 disguised amusement, and with a gesture passed him 
 over to Clytie. Clytie gave him a cold hand, looked 
 him steadfastly in the eyes, then dropped hers and 
 waited for her cue. 
 
 "It s very good of you to take me in, Mrs. Page. 
 I hope you don t mind my inviting myself. I only just 
 ran up for the night, and I don t want to interfere 
 with your plans at all." 
 
 "Oh, don t say a word! We were dying for an 
 other man. We re all delighted. Now we re six, you 
 see just right. You can flirt with the chaperon." 
 
 "Come and have a drink, first thing," said Gay P. 
 Summer, taking upon himself seriously the conven 
 tional obligations of host. "You must be cold, Grant- 
 hope, without an overcoat. We ll be back in a minute, 
 Violet. Come on, Cayley !" 
 
 He led the way into the bar. Granthope followed 
 with Cayley, watching for a word in private. "I 
 want to speak to you alone," he tossed over his 
 shoulder. Cayley nodded. 
 
 After the formalities were over, Grantho pe re 
 marked: "Well, I think I ll go in and get a room, 
 
THE SUNRISE 575 
 
 Summer. You go out and get the ladies while Cayley 
 and I go up-stairs a minute." 
 
 Gay P., suspecting nothing, left the two men alone. 
 Cayley took a seat on a small table and waited. Grant- 
 hope lost no time in preliminaries. 
 
 "Mr. Cayley," he said, pulling out his watch, "what 
 time does the next train go down the mountain?" 
 
 "There s one soon after nine, I believe why?" 
 Cayley answered. 
 
 Granthope looked at him without visible emotion 
 and said nonchalantly, "I think you d better take it." 
 
 A hot flush burned in Cayley s cheeks, and he 
 drew back as if ready either to give or to receive a 
 blow. "Did you come up here to tell me that?" he 
 said harshly. 
 
 "I did that amongst other things." 
 
 "Are you trying to pick a quarrel with me ? If you 
 are, I think I can accommodate you. Come outside." 
 
 "No, I came up here to avoid one. If I had met 
 you anywhere else, I suppose you d be knocked down, 
 by this time." Granthope s tone was unimpassioned, 
 matter-of-fact. 
 
 "This is getting interesting," said Cayley, now as 
 suave as his opponent. "May I ask you to explain?" 
 
 "I had a talk with Doctor Masterson this morning. 
 You may not be acquainted with him he s a friend 
 of Professor Vixley s, whom I believe, you do know." 
 
 Cayley s color went back, and his attitude relaxed 
 from defiance to something less assertive. 
 
 "He told me a few things about you, Mr. Cayley," 
 Granthope went on firmly. "I don t intend to repeat 
 them. But what I do intend is that you shall make 
 whatever excuses you see fit to Mrs. Page and the 
 
576 THE HEART LINE 
 
 others, and leave here on the next train. Do you 
 understand perfectly, or shall I go into details?" 
 
 "Oh, I won t trouble you, Granthope," Cayley 
 drawled. "I don t think the crowd would be very 
 amusing 1 with you here, anyway. I m much obliged 
 to you for giving me the opportunity to leave, I m 
 sure." 
 
 He smiled, Granthope smiled, and the two separated. 
 Cayley walked up to speak to the clerk in the office, 
 and then sauntered toward the ladies on the porch. 
 Granthope was given a room, and went up-stairs. 
 
 When he returned the party was talking on the ve 
 randa, and there was no chance to speak to Clytie 
 alone. What he could do to reassure her by his 
 glance, he did, but she was evidently so much at a 
 loss to account for his appearance that she had placed 
 some alarming interpretation upon it. She did not 
 speak, but her silence was unnoticed in Mrs. Page s 
 volubility. As they stood there, a bell-boy came out 
 and notified Cayley that there was a telephone call 
 for him. Cayley apologized and left to go inside. 
 Granthope watched him with satisfaction. 
 
 Clytie moved off down the veranda a little way, 
 and Granthope, seeing his opportunity, followed her. 
 
 He had time but to say, "It s all right, Clytie it s 
 all right!" 
 
 She looked up at him in wonder, and at his words 
 life and hope came back to her and shone in her eyes. 
 She did not understand yet, but the message was an 
 elixir of joy to her. On the instant Gay and Miss 
 Cavendish joined them, chattering. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Granthope," she said, "Mr. Summer and 
 I have been wrangling all this afternoon over a 
 
THE SUNRISE 577 
 
 discussion, and we want your decision. You ought to 
 know, if anybody does. Which knq,ws most about 
 women the man who knows all about some woman, 
 or the man who knows some about all women?" 
 
 Granthope laughed. "I think they d be equally 
 foolish. No man knows anything about any woman." 
 
 "Of course that s the proper answer," said Miss 
 Cavendish. "We re all mysteries, aren t we?" 
 
 "Even to ourselves," Clytie offered. 
 
 "Oh, yes, women understand other women, but they 
 never understand themselves." 
 
 Gay P. Summer put in, "I don t think any man ever 
 understands women who hasn t had sisters. I never 
 had one." 
 
 "That s true," said Granthope. He saw his chance, 
 and turned to Clytie. "I never had a sister, either," 
 he said deliberately, catching her eye. 
 
 Clytie s eyebrows went up. He nodded. It was 
 question and answer. She moved toward him a little, 
 unnoticed, and his hand touched hers. 
 
 Mr. Summer added : "I don t care, though, I prefer 
 to have women mysteries. It s more interesting." 
 
 Mrs. Page came up in time to hear the last words. 
 "Oscar Wilde says that women are sphinxes without 
 secrets," she contributed. 
 
 "I wonder if any woman is happy enough not to 
 have a secret," Clytie said. 
 
 "I hope that yours will never make you unhappy," 
 Granthope replied ; and added : "I don t think it will." 
 He pressed her hand again, unobserved. 
 
 At this moment, Cayley returned. 
 
 "Something doing, Mr. Cayley?" said Miss Caven 
 dish mischievously. 
 
578 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Yes, unfortunately. It s a matter of business and 
 important. I ve got to see a man to-morrow morning 
 in the city. It s too bad, but I ll have to go down to 
 night, after all." 
 
 "Why, the ideal" Mrs. Page cried indignantly. 
 "You ll do no such a thing ! It s outrageous ! We 
 can t possibly spare you, Blan; you ll spoil the party!" 
 
 "It s my loss. I ve got to go, really!" said Cayley. 
 He turned to Clytie. "I ll have to turn you over to 
 Mr. Granthope, I m afraid. I don t want you to miss 
 the time, of course." 
 
 Clytie looked at Granthope, puzzled. 
 
 "You shan t go, anyway, Miss Payson!" Mrs. Page 
 insisted. "Why, we re going to get up and see the 
 sunrise to-morrow morning! That s what we came 
 for. Please don t break up the party," she begged. 
 
 Clytie smiled subtly, and hazarded another glance 
 at Granthope. 
 
 "I really came up to bring Miss Payson home," he 
 said, "but of course I ll leave it to her. The fact is, 
 I ve brought her a message from her father." 
 
 "Oh !" Mrs. Page exclaimed, "I do hope it isn t bad 
 news." 
 
 "On the contrary, it s good, I think. Nevertheless, 
 I ll have to break it to her gently. And with your 
 permission, I will, now." 
 
 A look at Clytie, and she walked off with him up 
 toward the summit of the mountain. 
 
 "What can it be, Francis?" she exclaimed. "I m 
 all at sea. But of course I understood from what you 
 said that it was, somehow, all right." 
 
 "Clytie," he said, "it is all right we ve passed the 
 last obstacle, I think. But it s hard to know how to 
 
THE SUNRISE 579 
 
 tell you. If you ll let me tell it my way, I ll say that, 
 of all the women I have ever known in my life, the 
 two whom I have loved best were " 
 
 "Me and ?" She held his hand tightly. 
 
 "You and your mother." 
 
 She seemed to be in no way surprised, new as the 
 thought was to her. It only struck her dumb for a 
 while. Then she said : 
 
 "I must telephone to father at once. Oh, I must re 
 assure him!" 
 
 "Shall we go back?" he asked. 
 
 She stood for a moment deliberating. Then she put 
 her arm in his. "I ve seen the stars and moon," she 
 said, "I ve seen the lightning, I ve seen the false dawn. 
 Let s stay, now, and see the sunrise!" 
 
 They walked, arm in arm, to the summit of the 
 mountain, and sat down upon a rock to gaze at the 
 city, far away. 
 
 There it lay, a constellation of lights, a golden 
 radiance, dimmed by the distance. San Francisco the 
 Impossible, the City of Miracles! Of it and its 
 people many stories have been told, and many shall 
 be ; but a thousand tales shall not exhaust its treasury 
 of Romance. Earthquake and fire shall not change 
 it, terror and suffering shall not break its glad, mad / 
 spirit. Time alone can tame the town, restrain its 
 wanton manners, refine its terrible beauty, rob it of its 
 nameless charm, subdue it to the Commonplace. May 
 Time be merciful may it delay its fatal duty till we 
 have learned that to love, to forgive, to enjoy, is but 
 to understand! 
 
EPILOGUE 
 
 It was quiet at Fulda s. The evening crowd had 
 not yet begun to come. The Pintos, however, had 
 arrived early, and were at their central table talking 
 in low, repressed voices. Felix, at the front counter, 
 looked over at them occasionally under his eyebrows, 
 as if there were something unusual in their demeanor. 
 
 Mabel sat erect, her hands in her lap, looking 
 straight before her, speaking only in monosyllables. 
 Elsie s smile had diminished to a set, cryptic expres 
 sion. She looked tired. Maxim leaned his heavy, 
 leonine head upon his hand, and drew invisible 
 sketches with his fork upon the table-cloth. Starr 
 and Benton talked in an undertone. 
 
 "I didn t go over," said Starr, "I simply couldn t." 
 
 "Well, somebody had to see, so I went." 
 
 "Was it bad?" 
 
 Benton shook his head. "No, lovely. Wonderful. 
 One wouldn t think " 
 
 Mabel looked across at them. Starr lowered his 
 voice. 
 
 "Just ten days, isn t it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How did you happen to hear?" 
 
 "Why, I was at the Bulletin office when word was 
 telephoned in. There was something about the de 
 scription that struck me I began to worry then I 
 went over with a reporter." 
 
 The door on Montgomery Street opened, and Dou- 
 gal came in. He moved like a machine. His face 
 
 580 
 
EPILOGUE 581 
 
 was hard, his eyes glassy, as if he had not slept for 
 many nights. He sat down like an automaton, pulled 
 off his hat and let it drop carelessly to the floor. 
 
 "Where have you been?" Elsie asked him. 
 
 "I don t know. Just walking. Anywhere." 
 
 "Did you?" 
 
 "Yes. I had to. I couldn t stand it not to." 
 
 Benton, the most composed of them all, pulled him 
 self up in his chair. "Let s have something to drink," 
 he suggested. He called the waiter and gave his 
 order. A bottle was brought and the glasses filled. 
 They seemed to awake, around the table, and each 
 one took a glass. Benton raised his. They all drank 
 in silence. Mabel, her eyes dimmed, held up two 
 fingers. Elsie smiled. 
 
 "That s right !" she said, and held up hers. Mabel 
 gulped down something in her throat. 
 
 "Well," said Benton, throwing off the mood, "we 
 might as well have dinner." He took up the menu 
 and looked it over. 
 
 They all ordered languidly. The talk began in a 
 desultory fashion, and the group became almost nor 
 mal all except Dougal, who stared steadily across 
 the room to where, under a drawing was a scroll 
 bearing the words from Salome: "Something terrible 
 is going to happen," and Mabel, who did not 
 speak and watched her plate. The restaurant, mean 
 while, had begun to fill up. Dishes rattled, voices 
 chattered, new arrivals appeared every few minutes. 
 
 Dougal looked up from his plate listlessly. "I saw 
 Granthope and his wife on the Oakland boat yester 
 day," he said. "I guess he s going East; they had a 
 lot of luggage." 
 
582 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "Did you speak to him?" Benton asked. 
 
 "No. I started to, then decided not to break up a 
 honeymoon party. But I heard her say something 
 queer. I ve been wondering about it." He stopped, 
 as if he had forgotten all about them there at the 
 table. Then he continued in a slow labored voice: 
 "It was the queer way she said it the way she looked, 
 somehow." 
 
 "What was it?" Starr asked. 
 
 "We were just opposite Goat Island." He paused 
 and took a breath. "She said " 
 
 They all waited, watching him. He tried it again. 
 "She said Doesn t the water look cold! then she 
 kind of shivered and said Let s come inside we 
 were just opposite Goat Island." 
 
 Maxim repeated the words : " The water looks 
 cold Oh, God !" he exclaimed softly. 
 
 There was a silence for a moment, then Starr 
 said: 
 
 "D you suppose she knew?" 
 
 "How could she?" Benton asked. "Nobody knew 
 till this noon, did they?" 
 
 Elsie spoke : "Of course she knew." 
 
 Mabel nodded her head slowly; her breast was 
 heaving. 
 
 There was a pause for a moment. It was broken by 
 Benton, who sat facing the door. 
 
 "There s The Scroyle !" he exclaimed. "Who s that 
 with him?" 
 
 "Oh, that s Mrs. Page," said Elsie, narrowing her 
 eyes. 
 
 Gay P. Summer, jimp and immaculate, with 
 trousers creased and shiny shoes, with the latest style in 
 
EPILOGUE 583 
 
 mouse-colored hats, entered with his lady, and looked 
 jauntily about for a good table. He found one near 
 the Pintos. Having seated his partner, he leaned over 
 toward her and whispered for a few minutes. By her 
 immediate look in their direction, there was no doubt 
 that he was informing her of the fame of the coterie 
 at the central table, and boasting of his acquaintance 
 with it. Then he arose. 
 
 "By Jove !" said Benton. "He s coming over here ! 
 What d you think of that !" 
 
 Gay approached dapperly, bowed to all, and laid 
 his hand on the back of Dougal s chair. Dougal 
 leaned forward and avoided him. 
 
 "Good evening, everybody," said Gay affably. "The 
 gang is still alive, I see!" He smiled inclusively. 
 Nobody answered. 
 
 "I should think you d want to find another restau 
 rant, now," he continued. "This place is getting al 
 together too dead. It s only a show place now. All 
 the life seems to have gone out of it." 
 
 "That s right," Maxim murmured. 
 
 "Funny how places run down," Gay was forcing 
 it hard "why, I know several people who won t come 
 here any more. It isn t like it used to be, anyway, 
 nowadays." He grew a little nervous at his apathetic 
 reception, but went on. "Say, I ve got a lady over 
 there I d like to introduce to you people. She s a 
 corker. Suppose I bring her over. You need another 
 girl." 
 
 Benton shook his head. "Not to-night, Gay. Sorry. 
 Executive session." 
 
 Gay looked round the table, noted the two empty 
 places and started : "But couldn t" 
 
584 THE HEART LINE 
 
 "No," said Benton, "we couldn t. Some other 
 time." 
 
 Gay, about to move away, looked at Dougal. "Say, 
 he said, "what s become of Fancy Gray? Are you 
 expecting her to-night?" 
 
 At the sound of the name Mabel dropped her 
 head on her arms and began to cry aloud. Her 
 shoulders worked convulsively. 
 
 Elsie put her hand round her neck. "Oh, stop, 
 May!" she whispered. "Don t cry please!" 
 
 Dougal looked at Mabel. His small eyes gleamed 
 as bright and dry as crystal. 
 
 "Don t stop her, Elsie! If anybody can cry, for 
 God s sake, let them cry!"