“I know who you are, now!” she said.  “You are Robert H. Norcross of the Norcross lines!”

Norcross started.

“Please do not think I got that by any supernormal means!” she added quickly.  “I mention it only to be frank with you.  From the moment I saw you, I was perplexed by a memory and a resemblance.  Then, too, I caught the air of big things about you.  That attitude which you have just taken solved it all.  It is the counterpart of your photograph in last Sunday’s Times—­the full-page snap shot.  I must be frank with you or you will not believe me.”

The mustache of Norcross raised just a trifle, and his eyes glittered.

“Passing over what I may think of your revelations,” he said, “you’re a remarkable woman.”

“If you’re coming again,” said Mrs. Markham, “perhaps you’d better not delve into my personality.  It interferes.  Understand, I’m really flattered to have a man like you take notice of this work.  That’s why I ask that your notice shan’t be personal.  At least not yet.”

“Since this is a—­a—­professional relation, may I ask how much I owe you?”

“My price is twenty-five dollars a sitting—­for those who can afford it.”

Norcross drew out his wallet, handed Mrs. Markham three bills.  Without looking at them, she dropped them on the table beside her.  “You see,” she went on as though her mind were still following their discussion, “I don’t like to talk much with my—­patients.  I never can know when I may unconsciously steal from what they tell me.”

At the entrance, Norcross hesitated, as though hoping for something more than a good-night.  No more than that did she give him, however.  He himself was obliged to introduce the subject in his mind.  “If I should come again, would Helen tell me more?”

“Perhaps.  From the excellent result to-night I should call it likely.”

“Then may I come again?” His voice broke once, as with eagerness.

“Certainly.  Will you make an appointment?”

“Tuesday night?”

“I had an engagement for Tuesday.  Could you come as well on Friday?”

And though it meant postponing a directors’ meeting, he answered promptly: 

“Very well.  Say Friday at eight.”

And now he was in his automobile.  He settled himself against the cushions and held the attitude, without motion.  For five minutes he sat so, until the chauffeur, who had been throwing nervous backward glances through the limousine windows, asked: 

“I beg your pardon, sir, did you say ’home’?”

“Yes, home,” responded Norcross.  And even on those words, his voice broke again.