ure, to touch his shoulder, but she restrained
herself in time.

He seemed to feel what she was doing, and turned his face towards her,
a slight flush coming to his cheeks. He smiled, and then he said: "How
wonderful you are! You look--"

He checked himself, then added with a quizzical smile:

"You are looking very well to-day, Miss Fleda Druse, very well indeed. I
like that dark-red dress you're wearing."

An almost frightened look came into her eyes. It was as though he could
see, for she was wearing a dark-red dress--"wine-coloured," her father
called it, "maroon," Madame Bulteel called it. Could he then see, after
all?

"How did you know it was dark-red?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Guessed it! Guessed it!" he answered almost gleefully. "Was I right? Is
it dark-red?"

"Yes, dark-red," she answered. "Was it really a guess?"

"Ah, but the guessiest kind of a guess," he replied. "But who can tell?
I couldn't see it, but is there any reason why the mind shouldn't
see when the eyes are no longer working? Come now," he added, "I've a
feeling that I can tell things with my mind just as if I saw them. I do
see. I'll guess the time now--with my mind's eye."

Concentration came into his face. "It's three minutes to twelve
o'clock," he said decisively.

She took up the watch which lay on the table beside the bed.

"Yes, it's just three minutes to twelve," she declared in an awe-struck
voice. "That's marvellous--how wonderful you are!"

"That's what I said of you a minute ago," he returned. Then, with a
swift change of voice and manner, he added, "How long is it?"

"You mean, since you came here?" she asked, divining what was in his
mind.

"Exactly. How long?"

"Six weeks," she answered. "Six weeks and three days."

"Why don't you add the hour, too," he urged half-plaintively, though he
smiled.

"Well, it was three o'clock in the morning to the minute," she answered.

"Old Father Time ought to make you his chief of staff," he remarked
gaily. "Now, I want to know," he added, with a visible effort of
determination, "what has happened since three o'clock in the morning,
six weeks and three days ago. I want you to tell me what has happened to
my concerns--to the railways, and also to the towns. I don't want you
to hide anything, because, if you do, I'll have Jim in, and Jim, under
proper control, will tell me the whole truth, and perhaps more than the
truth. That's the way with Jim. When he gets started h