When they had finished with Annabel, Madame Ophelia slumped a bit and then shuddered. When she finally raised her head, she glanced around the room, checking everyone’s expressions. Some were happy, some sad, and Mother Bates looked disappointed. How unfortunate that she had not received any attention. But then neither had Mr. Lindhurst.

“The spirits never tell me what horses to bet on,” he reminded Madame Ophelia. “Can you tell me why that is?”

Elizabeth studied him while Madame simply glared at him, and suddenly, Elizabeth gave a little cry and straightened in her chair, throwing her head back and gasping.

“Elizabeth, what is it?” Anna cried, and Mother Bates echoed her concern, but Elizabeth hardly heard them. She shuddered and gasped again, and then she said, in a voice no one had heard before, “Don’t bet on Mill Due in the fifth. He’s going to scratch so Cupid’s Arrow can win.”

Then she sighed and sagged in her chair until Mrs. Lindhurst was forced to catch her and set her upright again. After a moment, she shuddered again and opened her eyes. “Why is everyone staring at me?” she asked in alarm.

“You had a little fit of some kind,” Anna said, her lovely face full of worry.

“A fit? Did I . . . ? What did I do?”

“You gave me a tip about a horse in the fifth race at Belmont,” Mr. Lindhurst said, obviously delighted.

“I did?” Elizabeth asked in surprise. “Did I say he would win?”

“No, you said he would scratch.” Mr. Lindhurst shook his head in wonder. “He’s the favorite, too.”

“He would scratch? Do you mean, scratch himself? I didn’t know horses did that, like dogs and cats do.”

“No, it doesn’t mean that,” Lindhurst explained, still amused. “It just means he’ll be pulled from the race.”

“Oh. Would that information help you in some way?” Elizabeth asked. “To know he’s going to . . . to scratch?”

“Not really, although it might increase the odds on the other horses if he doesn’t scratch until the last minute. And you did say another horse would win instead.”

“But no one knows who will win a horse race, do they?” Elizabeth asked, still confused. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t be fair,” Lindhurst said, “which is why people bet on them. But it would sure be interesting if it happens.”

“I can’t imagine that it will. I hardly know anything about horse racing.” That was a lie, of course, but no one would ever have guessed it from looking at her. “I can’t imagine why I’d say something about a racehorse. I don’t even remember doing it.”

“Was a spirit speaking through her, do you think, Madame Ophelia?” Mother Bates asked.

Really, Mother Bates was a treasure.

“I . . . I cannot say,” Madame said, eyeing Elizabeth speculatively. “Sometimes the spirits play little jokes on us. Perhaps this was one of them.”