"By palmistry?"

"No, by the stars. And behold!" drawing aside the curtain, "yonder
they shine!"

"Take me to an upper room," the astrologer exclaimed, in an inspired
tone, "and leave me. Destiny is propitious. The fate that ruled your
son's birth has set forth the shining stars for Achmet to read. Lead
on!"

Like a man in a dreamy swoon, Sir Jasper Kingsland obeyed. He led the
astrologer up the grand sweeping staircases--up and up, to the very top
of the house--to the lofty, lonely battlements. Cloudless spread the
wide night sky; countless and brilliant shone the stars; peaceful and
majestic slept, the purple sea; spotless white gleamed the snowy earth.
A weird, witching scene.

"Leave me," said the astrologer, "and watch and wait. When the first
little pink cloud of sunrise blushes in the sky, come to me. My task
will have ended."

He waved him away with a regal motion. He stood there gazing at the
stars, as a king looking upon his subjects. And the haughty baronet,
without a word, turned and left him.

The endless hours wore on--two, three, and four--and still the baronet
watched and waited, and looked for the coming of dawn. Faintly the
silver light broke in the Orient, rosy flushed the first red ray. Sir
Jasper mounted to the battlements, still like a man in a dazed dream.

Achmet the Astrologer turned slowly round. The pale, frosty sunrise
had blanched his ever-white face with a livid hue of death. In one
hand he held a folded paper, in the other a pencil. He had been
writing.

"Have you done?" the baronet asked.

"I am done. Your son's fate is here."

He touched the paper.

"Is that for me?" he asked, shrinking palpably from it even while he
spoke.

"This is for you." The astrologer handed him the paper as he spoke.
"It is for you to read--to do with after as you see fit. I have but
one word to say: not I, but a mightier power traced the words you will
read--your son's irrevocable fate. Don't hope to shirk it. My task is
ended, and I go. Farewell!"

"No, no," the baronet cried; "not so! Remain and breakfast here. The
morning is but just breaking."

"And before yonder sun is above the horizon I will be far away. No,
Sir Jasper Kingsland, I break no bread under your roof. I have done my
work, and depart forever. Look to your son!"

He spoke the last words slowly, with a tigerish glare of hate leaping
out of his eyes, with deadly menace in every syllable. Then he wa