It was about five o'clock of the afternoon as he again mounted to Pratt's portico, recalling, as he did so, the dramatic contrasting scenes of the evening before--on this side of the brick wall a communion with the dead, on that the throbbing, gay life of a ballroom. Truly a city street was a microcosm.
A solemn-visaged colored man--not the officious usher of the night before--took his card and led him into a gorgeous, glacial reception-room on the left. The house was very still and cold and gloomy, for the day was darkening and the lights were not yet on. It impressed him as a vast and splendid tomb, and with a revived knowledge of Simeon Pratt's tragic history he chilled with a premonition of some approaching shadow. "What a contrast to the sunlit cabin of the Colorow!" he inwardly exclaimed, and the thought of the mountain girl housed in this grim and sepulchral mansion deepened his wonder.
A gruff voice above inquired: "Who is it? Let me see the card. Serviss, eh? Tell him--No, wait, I'll go down and see him myself."
Morton smiled grimly, realizing perfectly the manner in which Pratt had intercepted his card. "The old watch-dog," he exclaimed.
A heavy tread descending the stairs announced the approach of his host, whose sullen face was by no means engaging as he entered. "Are you Professor Serviss?"
The flabby lips curled in scorn. "You are one of those scientific gentlemen who know it all, aren't you?"
"I sent my card to Miss Lambert," replied Serviss, with cutting formality.
Pratt's face darkened. "_I_ am the master of this house."
"I have a right to know who calls, and I intend to protect Miss Lambert from such as you. You were not invited here last night."
"Not by you, I admit. I owe you an explanation for that. I came to call on Miss Lambert. Your man shouldered me into the room before I knew what was going on. I didn't intend to 'butt in,' as they say. I was afterwards invited forward by Mr. Clarke, as you will remember, and later by the 'control.'"
"Ah, but the spirits? Would you question their judgment? They insisted on making me the guest of honor, you will remember. They played to me, you may say."
Pratt was daunted by his visitor's mocking tone. "You should have had more sense of honor than to grab the medium the way you did."