le
pressure of his hand on my arm. The street door closed behind me, I
felt myself guided up a pair of stairs, a sharp turn to the right, and
we had arrived. But where? Then I realized that the black silk bag had
been removed from my head and I was free to use my eyes. An ironical
permission, truly, for I found myself in absolute darkness. Strain my
vision as I might, not a ray of light met the sensitive surface of the
retina. The blackness stood about me like a wall, immaterial,
doubtless, but none the less impenetrable.

Deprived of sight, every mental faculty was instantly concentrated upon
the single sense of hearing. My conductor had left me. There was the
sound of a closing door and of padded foot-falls that trailed off into
nothingness; then silence.

Out of the void came a sharp click as of a well-oiled gun-lock. It was
followed by the first notes of a piano-forte accompaniment. A soprano
voice began singing Schubert's "Fischermadchen." What a delicious
timbre! The clear resonance of a crystal bell.

The beautiful melody ceased, but still I seemed to hear the faint,
sweet overtones born of its final breath, thin auditory flames that
flickered for an instant against the blank wall of the subconscious
sense, and then in their turn were gone. Entranced and motionless, I
waited.

A sudden burst of light flooded the room, the radiation being indirect
and proceeding from electroliers sunken behind the ceiling cornice. The
apartment was of medium size, evidently the middle one of the ordinary
series of three rooms characteristic of New York City houses, and it
was furnished most simply--merely a table of Flemish oak with two
leather-backed chairs to match and some rugs. The walls and door spaces
were hung with red velvet draperies, which contrasted brilliantly with
the gorgeous, gold-leafed plastic-work of the cornices and ceiling. A
convex mirror, framed in massive silver gilt, hung on the side wall. A
second look showed that it was really a bull's-eye of crackled glass,
opal-tinted and translucent. It glowed as though illumined by some
inward fire (doubtless a concealed electric-light bulb), and the
shifting play of iridescent color was exquisitely beautiful. One could
compare it only with an imprisoned rainbow. I looked and wondered.

"I have kept you waiting. A thousand apologies," said a voice at my
back. I turned to face a gentleman who must have entered from the front
room; so at least the draperies, still