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in my collection. I'm going to leave everything to a museum, you see. They've promised to name a wing after me. It's vital that every piece be an original." "I understand, Ms. Woods."
    "That's why I asked you to take a look at it for me. I wanted to be sure."
    "There is no reason to be concerned about this table." He glanced quickly around the gallery showroom. It was only lightly crowded this afternoon. No members of the dignified staff stood close enough to overhear his conversation with Hattie. "Early nineteenth century.
    English Regency period. It really is a lovely old piece."
    "And the history?" Hattie pressed in a lower tone. She was practically bubbling with excitement now. "Did you feel anything curious or especially interesting?"
    Clients liked their antiques with lots of drama attached. A table that had been used to sign a famous treaty or to write a king's letter of abdication was far more valuable than the same piece of furniture that had simply stood gathering dust in a private home. Jonathan studied the table, considering possibilities.
    "It has seen its share of excitement, I can tell you that," he said. "There is an aura of old violence surrounding it. I could feel intense anger and some fear when I touched the surface.
    Also ..."
    "Yes? What is it, Mr. Arden?"
    "Pain, I believe." Jonathan kept his voice subdued, almost meditative. "I would not be surprised if a duel took place in the vicinity of this table. A few drops of blood must have fallen on it to have left such strong emotional traces."
    "Blood." Hattie regarded the table with awe. "Imagine that."
    Jonathan leaned closer and lowered his voice another notch to close the deal. "In my opinion it's an exceptional value. In fact, it's a bargain. The experts here at the gallery obviously did not recognize the true excellence of the piece."
    Hattie clutched her purse and gave Jonathan a look that glittered with the feverish obsession of the true collector. "Now that I know for certain that it's genuine and that there's some interesting history attached to it, I have no problem with the price. Worth every penny."
    "I think you'll be very pleased."
    "Thank you so much, Mr. Arden." Hattie tightened her grip on her elegantly carved cane and started toward the glass doors at the front of the gallery. She moved with a careful air that spoke of delicate bones and a frail sense of balance. "You have been most helpful. I must admit that when you were first recommended to me, I had some serious reservations. When it comes to investing in art and antiques, I have always relied on my long-term relationships with dealers and friends in the business for professional opinions. It never occurred to me to consult a psychic."
    "You certainly aren't alone." Jonathan fell into step beside her. "Very few people are sufficiently open-minded to take advantage of information that can be obtained from the metaphysical realm."
    Hattie chuckled. "Well, I like to think that I am a bit more open-minded than most in that regard. I have had a lifelong interest in metaphysics, you know. I read a great deal in the field. But your particular talent was new to me."
    Jonathan held the glass door open for her. "Psychometry is an uncommon psychic talent."
    "Well, I'm not so sure about that." Hattie pursed her lips and tilted her head in a dainty, ABC Amber Text Converter Trial vers ion, http://www.processtext.com/abctxt.html
    considering fashion as she stepped out onto the busy San Francisco sidewalk. "When you think about it, there are many occasions in life when we look at an old object or walk into a strange room and are suddenly aware of some sort of sensation."
    "An aura?" he suggested.
    "Yes, indeed." She brightened. "An aura. A sense of something having happened in the vicinity. An unmistakable feeling of an emotional connection with the past. I expect that in your case, that ability is simply more acutely developed than it is in the rest of us."
    "Perhaps. Whatever, I am delighted to have