After a few moments of continued silence, a door on the side of the room opened and a young woman came out. She wore the kind of dress his mother and Elizabeth wore when they went out to lunch, fancy but not formal, although the brown color was a bit dull, in his opinion.

“Good evening,” she said, her glance touching each person in turn and hesitating only a moment longer on Gideon. “We’ll begin in a moment, but first I’ll speak to each of you individually.”

“That’s Persephone,” Elizabeth whispered, although Gideon had already guessed. He watched in admiration as the girl made the rounds, collecting money from each person without the slightest awkwardness. When she came to them, he had pulled out his wallet, but she made a gesture that indicated he need not pay and then moved on without batting an eye.

“Madame Ophelia will receive you now,” Persephone announced, opening the door at the back of the room.

The others filed out, but Elizabeth lingered. They had both stood up, and she looked up at him with what appeared to be genuine apprehension. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“And I’ll be right here. If you need me, just call out.”

“Mr. Bates,” Persephone said, hurrying over to them, “you must not interrupt the séance under any circumstances. If Madame Ophelia or . . . or someone else is in a trance, the effects could be disastrous.”

“You may also hear someone call out,” Elizabeth said, “but don’t be alarmed. If I really need you, I’ll call your name.”

“And what if you faint?” he asked.

“Then Madame will call for me,” Persephone said. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. It always is.”

Gideon could have argued with her, but he nodded because that was what he was supposed to do.

Elizabeth gave him a reassuring smile and followed Persephone into the séance room, leaving him to wait.

—

Only one chair remained vacant when Elizabeth entered the room. This time she would be seated directly across from Madame Ophelia, who was ensconced in her chair as usual. Tonight, she was dressed all in purple and a jewel of some kind glittered in the center of her turban. Plainly, this was a special occasion. The mother-and-daughter pair was seated to Elizabeth’s right, with the daughter beside her and the mother beside Madame Ophelia.

The other three were on her left, with the tall woman next to Madame and the woman in the remaining couple beside Elizabeth. The tall woman was already reaching for the papers and pencils on the tray in the middle of the table.

“Shall we write our questions down?” the woman beside Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, please do,” Madame said, giving the tall woman a sharp look, which she ignored.

“I don’t know why I bother,” the tall woman said. “I always ask the same question and I never get an answer.”