horoscopes, and recover lost articles. Jimmie found him in the back room
on the first floor of an old-fashioned house of sandstone on a side
street. A blonde young woman, who was directing envelopes and enclosing
in them the business card of the prince, accepted Jimmie's five dollars
and ushered him into the presence. The back room was very dark. There
were no windows showing, and the walls were entirely hidden by curtains
in which twinkled tiny mirrors. The only light came from a lamp that
swung on chains.

The prince was young, tall, dark-skinned, with a black, pointed beard.
He wore his national costume and over it many necklaces of strange
stones, and of jewels more strange. He sat on a papier-maché throne with
gilded elephants for supports, and in his hand held a crystal globe. His
head was all but hidden in an enormous silken turban on which hung a
single pearl. Jimmie made up his mind that if the prince was no more on
the level than his jewels there would be no trouble.

Jimmie came quickly to the point.

"I can't show up," he explained, "because after I lost my job as Mr.
Blagwin's valet several articles of value were missing. But _you_ can
show up for me. If the will is not where I saw it--where I tell you it
is--you're no worse off than you are now. You can say the spirits misled
you. But, if I'm telling you the truth, you stand to get half the reward
and the biggest press story any ghost-raiser ever put across.

"And why," in conclusion Jimmie demanded, "should I ask you to do this,
if what I say is not true?"

The prince made no reply.