mosaic, and he saw now that there were rugs upon it, and that there were
chairs and sofas, and other signs of habitation. It was, indeed, only
half a greenhouse, for the lower part of it was in rosewood panels, with
floral paintings on them, like a room.

Moving to one side of the barrier of palms, he discovered, to his great
surprise, the figure of Michael, sitting propped up with pillows in
a huge easy-chair. The sick man was looking at him with big, gravely
intent eyes. His face did not show as much change as Theron had in fancy
pictured. It had seemed almost as bony and cadaverous on the day of the
picnic. The hands spread out on the chair-arms were very white and
thin, though, and the gaze in the blue eyes had a spectral quality which
disturbed him.

Michael raised his right hand, and Theron, stepping forward, took it
limply in his for an instant. Then he laid it down again. The touch of
people about to die had always been repugnant to him. He could feel on
his own warm palm the very damp of the grave.

"I only heard from Father Forbes last evening of your--your ill-health,"
he said, somewhat hesitatingly. He seated himself on a bench beneath
the palms, facing the invalid, but still holding his hat. "I hope very
sincerely that you will soon be all right again."

"My sister is lying down in her room," answered Michael. He had not once
taken his sombre and embarrassing gaze from the other's face. The voice
in which he uttered this uncalled-for remark was thin in fibre, cold
and impassive. It fell upon Theron's ears with a suggestion of hidden
meaning. He looked uneasily into Michael's eyes, and then away again.
They seemed to be looking straight through him, and there was no
shirking the sensation that they saw and comprehended things with an
unnatural prescience.

"I hope she is feeling better," Theron found himself saying. "Father
Forbes mentioned that she was a little under the weather. I dined with
him last night."

"I am glad that you came," said Michael, after a little pause. His
earnest, unblinking eyes seemed to supplement his tongue with speech of
their own. "I do be thinking a great deal about you. I have matters to
speak of to you, now that you are here."

Theron bowed his head gently, in token of grateful attention. He tried
the experiment of looking away from Michael, but his glance went back
again irresistibly, and fastened itself upon the sick man's gaze, and
clung there.

"I am next door to