ain why I sent for
you. You are wondering now on my reasons. They are very simple--
professional even, in part. In the first place, I wished to have a
good look at you. Do you wonder why an old woman should wish to look
upon a comely youth? Do not blush; but listen to my other and
professional reason. I should greatly like, if I may, to look upon
your talisman--that golden buckle or whatever it was that brought
such marvellous luck. Is it on you to-night?"

I wore it, as a matter of fact, in my waistcoat pocket, attached to
one end of my chain; but I hesitated for a moment.

"You need not be afraid," she said, and there was a suspicion of
mockery in her tone. "I will return it, as I returned it before.
But if you are reluctant to let me see it (and remember, I have seen
it once), do not hesitate to refuse. I shall not be annoyed."

Reflecting that, after all, her curiosity was certain to be baffled,
I handed her the Golden Clasp, with the chain, in silence.

"It is a curious relic," said she, as she slowly examined it and laid
it on her lap for a moment. "If the question be allowed, how did you
become possessed of it?"

"It belonged to my father," I answered.

"Excuse me," she said, deliberately, "that is hardly an answer to my
question."

During the silence that followed, she took up the clasp again, and
studied the writing. As she did so she used her right hand only;
indeed, during the whole time, her left had been occupied with her
tireless fan. I fancied, though I could not be certain, that it was
waving slightly faster than before.

"The writing seems to be nonsense. What is this--'Moon end
South--deep at point'? I can make no meaning of it. I suppose
there is a meaning?"

"Not to my knowledge," said I, and immediately repented, for once
more I seemed to catch that gleam in her eyes which had so baffled me
when first she saw the Clasp. The curtain rose upon the third act of
"Francesca," and we sat in silence, she with the Clasp lying upon her
lap, I wondering by what possibility she could know anything about my
father's secret. She could not, I determined. The whole history of
the Golden Clasp made it impossible. And yet I repented my rashness.
It was too late now, however; so, when the act was over I waited for
her to speak.

"So this belonged to your father. Tell me, was he at all like you?"

"He was about my height, I should guess," said I, wondering at this
new question; "b