Jake doubted that very much. He asked her a few more questions but received little new information. Finally, Madame Ophelia sent him back to the waiting area to make arrangements with Persephone to attend a séance in the coming week.

He’d have to check with Lizzie to make sure no one he knew would be attending at the time Persephone scheduled him, but he thought he’d managed to avoid any conflicts by agreeing to attend the Monday afternoon session.

“I’m still a little worried about all this,” he confided to Persephone when she had written his name in the appointment book. He’d managed to peer over her shoulder and didn’t recognize any of the other names for that session, but people didn’t usually use their real names when they were running a con.

“You don’t need to be apprehensive, Mr. Miller,” Persephone said.

“I know but . . . Do you suppose you could explain to me what’s going to happen?”

She glanced uneasily at the door that led to the séance room, signaling her reluctance.

“Not here,” he quickly added. “I could . . . I mean, if you’d like, I could buy you supper or something. I know a nice quiet restaurant where we could talk. If I just knew what to expect . . .” He gave her the smile that usually worked on females.

It worked on Persephone, or else she wanted to have supper with him, too. “That would be very nice. I’m sure Madame wouldn’t mind if I described a typical séance to you.”

“I’d be very grateful, Miss Highland. And I wouldn’t have to eat supper by myself. I don’t know many people in the city, and it can get pretty lonely.”

Her expression softened, or perhaps it just grew more interested. “We can’t let you be lonely, can we?”

“Should I call for you here?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at the door again. “Uh, no. Do you remember which building I live in?”

“Sure.”

“Call for me there at six thirty. I’ll look forward to it.” She smiled.

“I’ll look forward to it, too.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Persephone had changed into something much more becoming by the time Jake called for her at her apartment house. Plainly, she considered this an occasion. He’d wondered how he would find her, but she was waiting by the door when he arrived. That way he wouldn’t know which apartment was hers, he supposed. Women had to be careful.

“It’s very nice of you to do this,” he said as they started down the sidewalk. The city was crowded with pedestrians returning home or going out for the evening, and the streets were clogged with horses and wagons jostling for position between the motorcars whose drivers obviously felt sounding a horn entitled them to do anything.

“I told you. I’m happy to help. Not many clients offer to take me out to dinner, after all.”

“Since you told me most of your clients are wealthy ladies, I’m not surprised.”