how long does it take? it was instantly apparent from madame rosalies expression that this query was a violation of professional etiquette.as well inquire of a doctor how long it will take to perform a major operation.ignoring his query the medium opened the door wider and ushered her caller into the front room.it was a dim commonplace apartment furnished with flowered cretonnecovered chairs, a defiantlooking piano, and giltframed pictures.you will find some magazines here, she promised.just make yourself at home, please.it would be a difficult achievement, the reporter decided, as he settled himself in one of the rigidlooking chairs.and madame rosalies tone, though courteous, had not been eager or placating.it was apparent that she had plenty of business.her manner of greeting had been more like that of an experienced and selfpossessed hostess taken unawares by a guest, than of an exponent of the supernatural.she was obviously an educated woman.her voice alone betrayed that fact, and she moved with a grace that seemed somehow incongruous in those sordid surroundings.as he sat beside the bowwindows, gazing out into the fog, kenwick smiled grimly.i dont know drew yet, he murmured, but whoever he is, ill bet she can give him a run for his money.within twenty minutes he heard low voices at the far end of the hall, and then the sound of approaching footsteps.he rose and went to the door.madame rosalie and her client were emerging from a shadowy chamber whose door was draped with marooncolored portières.the caller had reached the hatrack and was jerking himself into his overcoat when all at once he stopped with words of astonished greeting.why, hello, kenwick! he strode forward with extended hand.and kenwick gripped it with an equal astonishment.it was one of the men whom he had known well at college.going it strong now that you are back in civilization again? on his face was genuine pleasure and the shamefaced expression that it would have worn if the newspaper reporter had suddenly encountered him tobogganing down one of san franciscos hills on a childs coaster.when he was gone the reporter followed his hostess into the room with the marooncolored curtains.it was as shabby as the waitingroom but more comfortable and somehow expressive of a strong personality.over a feltcovered table, strewn with cards and stubs of pencils and other aids to occult communication, was an electric bulb held in place by a loop of white cotton string.madame rosalie motioned him to a seat beside this table and sank into a deep chair on the opposite side.for a moment neither of them spoke.madame rosalies eyes rested upon her client with a scrutiny that was not inquisitive but almost uncomfortably searching.they were dark eyes and brilliant with the unnatural shining that is often caused by chronic insomnia.at first glance he had thought that her hair was confined under a net; now at close range he saw that it was cut short and waved alluringly over the lobes of her ears.she had been a beautiful woman once, he reflected, but life had given her brutal treatment.he picked up a crystal sphere that was lying upon the table.tell me what you see for me in that? he commanded.she turned it slowly under the light.kenwick watching her, felt a little cheated by the unspectacular quality of her technic.for all the thrill which she seemed likely to give him, he might as well be opening an interview with the censustaker.you came, the medium said at last, still gazing into the depths of the crystal, to consult me, not about the future but the past.he made no response.you are in trouble, she went on in the same unhurried voice.you are in great troublebut you are not taking the right way out.what is the right way out? you must have help.an expression of annoyance crossed his face.she would follow up that statement, of course, with the suggestion that he enlist for a prolonged course of readings.he was preparing a curt dismissal of this plan when suddenly she set the crystal down upon the table and looked at him with compassionate eyes.you must have help, she repeated.but it must be the help of some one who is dear to youor _was_ dear to you.can you evoke such a spirit? i dont know.i never can promise, but ill try.she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.the man, looking at her from across the table, was startled at the change in her face