d."

The elfin light was growing brighter by perceptible degrees; and Paul,
looking toward the speaker, now was able to discern him as a shadowy
bulk, without definite outline, but impressive, pagan--as a granite god,
or one of those broken pillars of Medinet Habu. Either because Jules
Thessaly had moved nearer to him, or by reason of an optical delusion
produced by the half-light, the space between them seemed to have grown
less--not only physically, but spiritually. The curves of their astral
selves were sweeping inward to a point of contact which Paul knew
subconsciously would be electric, odic, illuminating. He felt the
driving force of Jules Thessaly's personality, and it struck from the
lyre of his genius strange harmonious chords. He knew, as some of the
ancients knew, that the very insect we crush beneath our feet is crushed
not by accident, but in accordance with a design vast beyond human
conception; and he wondered what part in his life this strange, powerful
man was cast to play. His thoughts found expression.

"There is no such thing as chance," he said dreamily.

"No," answered Jules Thessaly. "There is no such thing in the universe.
Our meeting to-day was an appointment."

XI

Jules Thessaly, like the Indian rope trick, was a kind of phenomenon
twice removed. In every capital throughout the world one heard of him;
of his wealth, of his art collection, of his financial interests; but
one rarely met a man who actually claimed to know him although every
second man one met knew another who did.

When he acquired Babylon Hall, for so long vacant, the county was
stirred from end to end. Lower Charleswood, which lacked a celebrity,
felt assured at last of its place in history and ceased to cast envious
glances toward that coy hamlet of the hills which enshrined the cottage
of George Meredith. The Vicar of High Fielding, who contributed
occasional "Turn-overs" to the _Globe_, investigated the published
genealogy of the great man, and caused it to be known that Jules
Thessaly was a French Levantine who had studied at Oxford and Goettingen,
a millionaire, an accomplished musician, and an amateur of art who had
exhibited a picture in the Paris Salon. He was a member (according to
this authority) of five clubs, had other country seats, as well as a
house in Park Lane, was director of numberless companies--and was
unmarried. Miss Kingsbury called upon the reverend gentleman for further
particulars.

But whe