His long
slim hands, of the color of old ivory, rested upon the arms of
the chair, and on the first finger of the right hand gleamed a big
talismanic ring. The face of the seated man was lowered, but from under
heavy brows his abnormally large eyes regarded her fixedly.

So dim the light remained that it was impossible to discern the details
with anything like clearness, but that the clean-shaven face of the man
with those wonderful eyes was strikingly and intellectually handsome
there could be no doubt.

This was Kazmah, "the dream reader," and although Mrs. Irvin had seen
him before, his statuesque repose and the weirdness of his unfaltering
gaze thrilled her uncannily.

Kazmah slightly raised his hand in greeting: the big ring glittered in
the subdued light.

"Tell me your dream," came a curious mocking voice; "and I will read its
portent."

Such was the set formula with which Kazmah opened all interviews. He
spoke with a slight and not unmusical accent. He lowered his hand again.
The gaze of those brilliant eyes remained fixed upon the woman's face.
Moistening her lips, Mrs. Irvin spoke.

"Dreams! What I have to say does not belong to dreams, but to reality!"
She laughed unmirthfully. "You know well enough why I am here."

She paused.

"Why are you here?"

"You know! You know!" Suddenly into her voice had come the unmistakable
note of hysteria. "Your theatrical tricks do not impress me. I know what
you are! A spy--an eavesdropper who watches--watches, and listens! But
you may go too far! I am nearly desperate--do you understand?--nearly
desperate. Speak! Move! Answer me!"

But Kazmah preserved his uncanny repose.

"You are distracted," he said. "I am sorry for you. But why do you come
to me with your stories of desperation? You have insisted upon seeing
me. I am here."

"And you play with me--taunt me!"

"The remedy is in your hands."

"For the last time, I tell you I will never do it! Never, never, never!"

"Then why do you complain? If you cannot afford to pay for your
amusements, and you refuse to compromise in a simple manner, why do you
approach me?"

"Oh, my God!" She moaned and swayed dizzily--"have pity on me! Who are
you, what are you, that you can bring ruin on a woman because--" She
uttered a choking sound, but continued hoarsely, "Raise your head. Let
me see your face. As heaven is my witness, I am ruined--ruined!"

"Tomorrow--"

"I cannot wait for tomorrow--"

That quivering,