bronze tripod upholding a
crystal ball and a silk cushion upon which to rest one's hand during a
palm-reading. On another table were several astrological charts and small
books, presumably works of reference.

As he still stood motionless there was a slight rustle at the door, the
curtain parted and the Mariposa entered clad as always in her graceful
black gown, the mantilla and the mask. It was the most effective of
disguises and yet, it was negatived, nullified by a positive force of
personality so unmistakable and definite that the disguise instead of
concealing served more subtly to reveal and even accentuate
individuality.

"How do you do, Mr. Hayden?" ignoring the name he had signed to his note
and speaking with a marked Spanish accent meanwhile seating herself at
the table holding the crystal globe.

"Ah!" cried Hayden, starting forward excitedly. "The waif of the wind!
The lovely disembodied voice! How entirely delightful!"

Never had he been more interested and with every moment that passed, he
was experiencing a pleasant sense of reassurance. For days he had been
putting from him the latent but constant fear that Marcia Oldham and
Mademoiselle Mariposa were identical; but a personal atmosphere is
unmistakable, and in spite of her excellent and efficient disguise,
Hayden felt instinctively that this was no delicate and wistful violet,
but a gorgeous tropical bloom swaying from the tallest trees and exulting
in torrid sunshine and fierce tempest. Her voice, too, was deeper and
fuller, and the accent was, beyond question, genuine.

"I am afraid it is impossible to disguise my accent," she laughed but did
not seem inclined to pursue the subject further. "Do you prefer a
palm-reading, the crystal-gazing or both?" she asked, and although the
words were the usual commonplace phrases that she probably repeated a
dozen times a day, uttered monotonously enough, yet through some vibrant,
ringing quality her most ordinary utterances were endued with life.

"I hardly know," he said in answer to her question, and falling in with
her mood. "What would you advise?"

"Why not try the crystal?" she said. "You will, I am sure, find it more
interesting." Without waiting for his answer, she lifted the crystal ball
from its tripod to the silken cushion, and began intently to gaze into
its depths.

And now Hayden drew a sigh of intense relief. There was no longer any
ground for the shadow of a doubt, for the hands of Mademo