gypsy, the swapping of horses. The fore-parents of each had
followed that same calling, and to the children it was
commonplace and matter-of-fact. It held no adventure, no moral
obloquy.

"Prof." Paul Vance was a young man of under forty years. He
looked like a fox. He had red eyes, alert and cunning, a long,
sharp-pointed nose, a pointed red beard, and red eyebrows that
slanted upward. His hair, standing erect in a pompadour, and his
uplifted eyebrows gave him the watchful look of the fox when he
hears suddenly the hound baying in pursuit. But no one had ever
successfully pursued Vance. No one had ever driven him into a
corner from which, either pleasantly, or with raging
indignation, he was not able to free himself. Seven years before
he had disloyally married out of the "profession" and for no
other reason than that he was in love with the woman he married.
She had come to seek advice from the spirit world in regard to
taking a second husband. After several visits the spirit world
had advised Vance to advise her to marry Vance.

She did so, and though the man was still in love with his wife,
he had not found her, in his work, the assistance he had hoped
she might be. She still was a "believer"; in the technical
vernacular of her husband -- "a dope." Not even the intimate
knowledge she had gained behind the scenes could persuade her
that Paul, her husband, was not in constant communication with
the spirit world, or that, if he wished, he could not read the
thoughts that moved slowly through her pretty head.

At the time of his marriage, the girl Vera, then a child of