Mathers sent me out for a few minutes, made me go into another room.

When I came back, he gave me the draft.

I heard him calling out." "Mathers certainly earns his money," she remarked, drily.
He gazed at her with grudging admiration.

This was his daughter, his own flesh and blood.

Back through the years, for a moment, he seemed to see her, a child with hair down her back, sitting on his knee, listening to his stories, wondering at the little arts and tricks by which he had wrested their pennies and sixpennies from a credulous public.
Phrenologist, hypnotist, conjurer--all these things the great Professor Franklin had called himself.