The Heart Line 38

The Heart Line 38

"What could I do about it?" he asked. "The doctors don’t help me much."

 

"Of course they don’t. You haven’t been to the right ones. I was an

Indian doctor, and I can see just what’s the matter with you. You need

a certain kind of herb I used to use when I was on the flesh-plane in

Idaho."

 

"Can’t you help me, then?"

 

"Oh, I’ve got to go now, they’re calling to me. So good-by." Another

wriggle and Madam Spoll was herself again.

 

"Well, what did you get?" she asked when she recovered.

 

"Why, don’t you know?"

 

"No more’n a babe unborn," she said. "I was in a dead trance, and I

never remember anything that happens. I hope little Eva didn’t tease

you any."

 

"Who is the other one—Luella?"

 

"Why, she’s an Indian princess that passed out about ten years back.

She’s got a great gift of diagnosing cases. She’s helped my sitters a

good deal."

 

"She told me something about my trouble."

 

"You mean about the gray-haired lady or the child?"

 

"Oh, no, about my leg!"

 

"Did she, now? Well, what did I tell you! Seems to me you _do_ look

peaked and pale, like you was enjoying poor health. I noticed it when

you first come in. I don’t believe your blood’s good. Luella don’t

prescribe ordinarily, but she can diagnose cases something wonderful.

If I should tell you how many doctors in this town send their patients

to me to be diagnosed before they dare to treat them themselves, you’d

be surprised. Why, only the other day a lady come in here that was give

up by four doctors for cancer, and Luella found it was only a boil in

her kidney. She went to a magnetic healer and was cured in a week. Now

she’s doing her own work and taking care of her babies, keeping boarders

and plans to go camping this very month."

 

"Who was the doctor?" Mr. Payson asked, much impressed.

 

"Doctor Masterson. He’s up on Market Street somewhere. Perhaps I’ve

got a card of his around. I’ll see if I can find it."

 

She walked over to the mantel and fussed among its dusty ornaments,

saying, with apparent concern, as she rummaged:

 

"I don’t know as I ought to send you to Doctor Masterson, after all.

You see, he ain’t a man I like very much, and few do, I find. He don’t

stand very well with the Spiritual Society, nor with anybody else that I

know of. He ain’t quite on the square, do you understand what I mean?

To be perfectly frank, I think he’s a rascal. He has a bad reputation

as a man, but all the same, he’s a good medium, nobody denies _that_,

and he does accomplish some marvelous cures! If Luella said your

complaint was serious, she knows, and it looks to me like you must go to

Doctor Masterson or die of it, for if he can’t cure you, nobody can.

He’s certainly a marvelous healer."

 

She found the card at last, and brought it over to Mr. Payson.

 

"Here it is, but you better not tell him I give it to you, for we ain’t

on very good terms, and I wouldn’t want him to know that I was sending

him business."

 

As Mr. Payson rose to go, the medium stopped him with a gesture.

 

"Wait a minute," she said, passing her hand across her forehead. "Grace

is here again and she says: Tell him that we’re doing all we can on the

spirit plane to help him and we want him to cheer up, for conditions are

going to be more favorable in a little while, say, by the end of

September.’"

 

She paused a moment and then added:

 

"Who’s Clytie? Would that be the gray-haired lady?"

 

"What about Clytie?" He was instantly aroused.

 

"It don’t seem to me like she’s in the spirit, exactly. She’s on the

material plane. Let’s see if I can get it more definite. Oh, Grace

says she’s your daughter."

 

"That’s true."

 

"What do you think of that? I get it very plain now. Grace says she’s

watching over Clytie and will help her all she can."

 

"Can’t she tell me anything more?"

 

The medium became normal. "No, I guess that’s about all I can do for

you to-day. I think you got some good tests, specially when you

consider it was the first time. When you come again I expect we can do

better, and I’m sure we can find that little boy you was interested in."

 

Mr. Payson rose and stood before her, sedate, dignified, and said, in

his impressive platform-manner:

 

"I don’t mind saying that I consider this very remarkable, Madam Spoll,

very remarkable. I shall certainly call again sometime next week. I am

much interested. Now, what is the charge, please?"

 

"Oh, we’ll only call this three dollars. My price is generally five,

but I’m sort of interested in your case and I want you to be perfectly

satisfied. You can just ring me up any time and make an appointment

with me."

 

She bowed him out with a calm, pleasant smile.

 

Down-stairs, Professor Vixley was awaiting her. With him was a

shrewd-eyed, bald-headed, old man, with iron spectacles, his forehead

wrinkled in horizontal lines, as if it had been scratched with a sharp

comb. He had a three days’ growth of red beard on his chin and cheeks,

and his teeth, showing in a rift between narrow, bloodless lips, were

almost black. He wore a greasy, plaid waistcoat, a celluloid collar

much in need of the laundry and a ready-made butterfly bow.

 

"Why, how d’you do, Doctor Masterson?" said Madam Spoll. "I was hoping

you would get around to-day, so’s we could talk business. I suppose you

put him wise about Payson, Vixley?"

 

"Certainly," said the Professor. "We’re goin’ to share and share alike,

and work him together as long as it lasts. How did you get on with him

to-day?"

 

"Oh, elegant," was the answer, as she took a seat on the couch and put

up her feet. "I don’t believe we’re going to be able to use Flora,

though."

 

Professor Vixley’s black eyes glistened and he grinned sensuously.

"Why, couldn’t you get a rise out of him?"

 

Madam Spoll shook her huge head decidedly. "No, that sort of game won’t

work on him. He ain’t that kind. I went as far as I dared and give him

a good chance, but he wouldn’t stand for it."

 

"That’s all right, Gert," said Vixley, "I ain’t sayin’ but what you’re a

fine figure of a woman, but he’s sixty and he might prefer somebody

younger. You know how they go. Now, Flora, she’s a peach. She’d catch

any man, sure! She knows the ropes, too, and she can deliver the goods

all right. Look at the way she worked Bennett. Why, he was dead stuck

on her the first time he seen her. She put it all over Fancy at the

first rattle out of the box."

 

Again Madam Spoll’s crisp, iron-gray curls shook a denial. "See here,

Vixley!" she exclaimed, "I ain’t been in this business for eighteen

years without getting to know something about men. Bennett was a very

different breed of dog. I can see a hole in a ladder, and I know what

I’m talking about. Payson ain’t up to any sort of fly game. He’s

straight, and he’s after something different, you take my word for that.

If there was anything in playing him that way, I’d be the first one to

steer him on to Flora Flint, but he’d smell a mice if she got gay with

him and he’d be so leary that we couldn’t do nothing more with him."

 

"Well, what _did_ you get, then?" Vixley asked.

 

"Did you wire it up for me?" Doctor Masterson added.

 

"Oh, I fixed you all right, Doc. He’ll show up at your place, sure

enough. That accident tip worked all right and I got him going pretty

good about his leg. He’s got your card and I give you a recommendation,

I don’t think! You want to look out about what you say about me. We

ain’t on speaking terms, you understand, and you’re a fakir, for fair.

You can get back at me all you want, only don’t draw it hard enough to

scare him away."

 

Doctor Masterson grinned, showing his line of black fangs, and stuck his

thumbs into his waistcoat pockets placidly. "Oh, I’m used to being

knocked, don’t mind me. I’ll charge him for it. If I’m going to be the

villain of this here drama, I’ll do it up brown."

 

"Let’s see now. I s’pose you can probably hold him about two months,

can’t you?" said Vixley, stroking his pointed black beard and spitting

into the fireplace.

 

"Oh, not so long as that," said Madam Spoll. "We want to get to work on

that book proposition. A month’s plenty long enough. They ain’t much

money in it."

 

"I don’t know." Doctor Masterson shook his head. "I’ve strung ’em for

six months many’s the time."

 

"Women, perhaps, but not men," said the Madam.

 

"Well, maybe. Men are liable to be in more of a hurry, of course."

 

"And women ain’t so much, with you, are they?"

 

The two men laughed cynically.

 

"Oh, they’s more ways to work women than men, that’s all," the doctor

replied. "They’re more interested in their symptoms, and they like to

talk about ’em. Then, again, they’s a more variety of complaints to

choose from. I don’t say I ain’t had some pretty cases in my day."

 

"Say!" Madam Spoll interposed. "Who’s having a circle to-night—Mayhew?"

 

"Let’s see—it’s Friday, ain’t it? Yes, Mayhew and Sadie Crum," Vixley

replied.

 

"Well, I s’pose we got to put ’em wise about Payson," said the Madam.

"He’s got the bug now and he’s pretty sure to make the rounds."

 

"Can’t we keep him dark?" said Vixley. "He’s our game and they might

possibly ring him in."

 

"No, that won’t do," she answered emphatically. "We got to play fair.

They’ve always been square with us, and they won’t catch him, I’ll see

to that. Mayhew’s straight enough and if Sadie tries to get gay with us,

we can fix her and she knows it. And the more easy tests he gets, the

better for us. It’ll keep him going, and so long as they don’t go too

far, it’ll help us. The sooner he gets so he don’t want to impose test

conditions, the better, and they can help convert him for us. I’ll ring

up Mayhew now. I’ve got a good hunch that Payson will show up there to-night."