Madame Ophelia’s domain was a bit of a disappointment. If she was robbing her clients blind, she wasn’t spending any of her gains on decorating. Only a cheap wooden sign marked the entrance, and the storefront window was heavily draped. Somehow he had expected some sort of exotic theme inside, but the only mysterious thing about the room was why the walls had been painted such a dark color and how many trash heaps she had raided to collect such odd chairs.

A gentleman and a lady sat together against one wall. They were middle-aged and well-dressed and looked a bit nervous, if their anxious glances when Gideon and Elizabeth walked in were any indication. Gideon nodded to them but quickly looked away and escorted Elizabeth to the opposite side of the room.

Soon two women came in, obviously mother and daughter. The younger woman appeared to be in her twenties and had shingled her light brown hair. He thought it looked hideous, but he supposed Elizabeth would want to cut off her lovely hair eventually as so many other women were doing, and he would just have to get used to it. The girl looked around and said a tentative “Hello” to no one in particular. The greeting was not returned, and her mother took her arm and led her to chairs on the end of the row where Gideon and Elizabeth were sitting.

The two exchanged a series of whispered comments and then fell quiet. Everyone sat in awkward silence, avoiding eye contact. No wonder the séances were so emotionally fraught. People were a nervous wreck by the time they started.

Finally, the front door opened and a tall, middle-aged woman came in. She was dressed in a dark blue walking suit but still managed to look eccentric because she had added a scarlet scarf and wore a man’s fedora. Many of the suffragists had adopted that style of hat, but it was still a bit outrageous, so he could be excused for staring a little longer than was necessary. She quickly found a seat at the end of the older couple’s row.

Then the woman’s sharp gaze took in the other occupants and finally rested on the mother and daughter. “Are you the one?” she asked the girl.

The girl was startled. “I beg your pardon.”

“Are you the one? The one we came to see tonight?”

The girl exchanged a questioning look with her mother, and the older woman frowned her disapproval.

“I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the girl finally said.

The tall woman huffed her disappointment and gave up her attempt to engage her, leaving the mother and daughter scowling.