ou mean you've
guessed what has hap----"

"It's not guessing, it's _seeing_," answered the Countess. "I'm in one of
my psychic moods to-day. A prophecy of mine has come true?"

"No-o--yes. Well, in a way you're right. In a way you're wrong. What is
it you see?"

"I see that you've lost something--probably last night. This morning I
waked with the impression. I wasn't surprised when you telephoned. Now,
let me go on holding your hand, and _think_. I'll shut my eyes. I don't
need my room and the crystal. Yes! The impression grows clearer. You
_have_ lost something. But it is not a thing to care about. You're glad
it's gone."

"You _are_ extraordinary!" Constance wondered aloud. "Can you see what I
lost--and whether it was Dick's or mine, or both?"

"His," said Madalena, after shutting her eyes again. "_His._ And he does
not care much, either. That seems strange. But I tell you what I _feel_."

"You are telling me the truth," Constance admitted. "Now, go on: tell
what was the thing itself--and the way we lost it."

"I haven't seen that yet. I haven't tried. Perhaps I shall be able to,
in the crystal; perhaps not. I don't always succeed. But--it comes to me
suddenly that this thing isn't directly or entirely what brought you
here?"

"Right again, O Witch!" laughed Connie. "I came to ask you to find
out--you're so marvellous!-why I didn't lose _other_ things, which I
really _do_ value."

The two women had been standing in the drawing room, Lady
Annesley-Seton's hand still in the Countess's. But now, without speaking
again, Madalena led her visitor into the room adjoining, which was fitted
up much as the room at the Devonshire hotel had been for her first
seance. The seeress gave herself, here at home, the same background of
purple velvet; the floor was carpeted with black, and spread with black
fur rugs; she was never without fragrant white lilies ranged in curious
pots along the purple walls; but in her own house the appointments were
more elaborate and impressive than the temporary fittings she carried
about for use when visiting.

On her table was a cushion of cloth-of-gold, embroidered with amethysts
and emeralds, the "lucky" jewels of her horoscope; and her gleaming ball
of crystal lay like a bright bubble in a shallow cup of solid jet which,
she told everyone, had been given her in India by the greatest astrologer
in the world.

What was the name of this man, and when she had visited him in India, she
di