nt was playing tricks with
him, and he was inventing the phrases he seemed to hear, that he was
attributing thoughts to others of which they were entirely innocent.
But, whatever it was that had befallen him, he knew it was imperative
that he should at once get at the meaning of it.

The hallway in which he stood opened from Bond Street up a flight of
stairs to the studio of a fashionable photographer, and directly in
front of the hallway a young woman of charming appearance had halted.
Her glance was troubled, her manner ill at ease. To herself she kept
repeating: "Did I tell Hudson to be here at a quarter to eleven, or
a quarter past? Will she get the telephone message to bring the ruff?
Without the ruff it would be absurd to be photographed. Without her ruff
Mary Queen of Scots would look ridiculous!"

Although the young woman had spoken not a single word, although indeed
she was biting impatiently at her lower lip, Philip had distinguished
the words clearly. Or, if he had not distinguished them, he surely was
going mad. It was a matter to be at once determined, and the young woman
should determine it. He advanced boldly to her, and raised his hat.

"Pardon me," he said, "but I believe you are waiting for your maid
Hudson?"

As though fearing an impertinence, the girl regarded him in silence.

"I only wish to make sure," continued Philip, "that you are she for whom
I have a message. You have an appointment, I believe, to be photographed
in fancy dress as Mary Queen of Scots?"

"Well?" assented the girl.

"And you telephoned Hudson," he continued, "to bring you your muff."

The girl exclaimed with vexation.

"Oh!" she protested; "I knew they'd get it wrong! Not muff, ruff! I want
my ruff."

Philip felt a cold shiver creep down his spine.

"For the love of Heaven!" he exclaimed in horror; "it's true!"

"What's true?" demanded the young woman in some alarm.

"That I'm a mind reader," declared Philip. "I've read your mind! I can
read everybody's mind. I know just what you're thinking now. You're
thinking I'm mad!"

The actions of the young lady showed that again he was correct. With a
gasp of terror she fled past him and raced up the stairs to the studio.
Philip made no effort to follow and to explain. What was there to
explain? How could he explain that which, to himself, was unbelievable?
Besides, the girl had served her purpose. If he could read the mind of
one, he could read the minds of all. By some