"THE impression which Mrs. Brand has made in New York could scarcely be better for our purpose," said Jaccard, upon the occasion of one of Lucas's visits to the many-windowed corner room, high up in a Dearborn Avenue office building, where Jaccard schemed and talked. Folded before him were copies of New York newspapers reporting the results of the English medium's "sittings" attended by many prominent New York people; the Chicago papers also had devoted prominent columns to the telegraphed story of Mrs. Brand's messages from the world beyond.
"No," agreed Lucas, hunching his chair closer, so he could more comfortably rest his arm on the desk. Jaccard with his foot hooked out a cuspidor and arranged it on the side and fairly between them. He kept it concealed from callers who were not, such as Lucas, old-timers like himself; Jaccard also preferred chewing his cigar to smoking it; indeed, Jaccard kept secreted in his drawer a bit of "plug", which he now produced and proffered.
Lucas looked at it longingly but shook his head. "No," he denied himself. "It would ruin me for this," and he continued to mouth his cigar.
"I won't make you miserable then," said Jaccard generously, and restored the chewing tobacco to its hiding place.
He was a tall, square man, Jaccard, kept in good
