"No, I took a cold on that journey. You see I am rather an invalid,
which is why I live here--while I do live--what they call
_poitrinaire_."

Godfrey shook his head, the word was beyond him.

"_Anglice_ consumptive," she explained. "There are lots of us in
Switzerland, you know, and on the whole, we are a merry set. It is
characteristic of our complaint. But never mind about me. There are two
or three people here. I daresay you will think them odd, but they are
clever in their way, and you ought to have something in common. Come
in."

He followed her into the beautiful cool saloon, with its large, double
French windows designed to keep out the bitter winds of winter, but
opened now upon the brilliant garden. Never before had he been in so
lovely a room, that is of a modern house, and it impressed him with
sensations that at the moment he did not try to analyse. All he knew
was that they were mingled with some spiritual quality, such as once or
twice he had felt in ancient churches, something which suggested both
the Past and the Future, and a brooding influence that he could not
define. Yet the place was all light and charm, gay with flowers and
landscape pictures, in short, lacking any sombre note.

Gathered at its far end where the bow window overlooked the sparkling
lake, were three or four people, all elderly. Instantly one of these
riveted his attention. She was stout, having her grey hair drawn back
from a massive forehead, beneath which shone piercing black eyes. Her
rather ungainly figure was clothed in what he thought an ugly green
dress, and she wore a necklet of emeralds in an old-fashioned setting,
which he also thought ugly but striking. From the moment that he
entered the doorway at the far end of that long saloon, he felt those
black eyes fixed upon him, and was painfully aware of their owner's
presence, so much so, that in a whisper, he asked her name of Miss
Ogilvy.

"Oh!" she answered, "that is Madame Riennes, the noted mesmerist and
medium."

"Indeed," said Godfrey in a vague voice, for he did not quite
understand what was meant by this description.

Also there was a thin, elderly American gentleman to whom Godfrey was
introduced, named Colonel Josiah Smith, and a big, blond Dane, who
talked English with a German accent, called Professor Petersen. All of
these studied Godfrey with the most unusual interest as, overwhelmed
with shyness, he was led by Miss Ogilvy to make their acquaintance