lips were firm, and he
drooped his head. But the long black eyes glinted and gleamed as if
they reflected the glow from a furnace. He wore a motor coat lined
with leopard skin and he was pulling off his heavy gloves.

"It is good of you to have waited, Doctor," he said in his huskily
musical voice--"you too, Cairn."

He advanced a few steps into the room. Cairn was conscious of a kind
of fear, but uppermost came a desire to pick up some heavy implement
and crush this evilly effeminate thing with the serpent eyes. Then he
found himself speaking; the words seemed to be forced from his throat.

"Antony Ferrara," he said, "have you read the _Harris Papyrus_?"

Ferrara dropped his glove, stooped and recovered it, and smiled
faintly.

"No," he replied. "Have you?" His eyes were nearly closed, mere
luminous slits. "But surely," he continued, "this is no time, Cairn,
to discuss books? As my poor father's heir, and therefore your host,
I beg of you to partake--"

A faint sound made him turn. Just within the door, where the light
from the reddening library windows touched her as if with sanctity,
stood Myra Duquesne, in her night robe, her hair unbound and her
little bare feet gleaming whitely upon the red carpet. Her eyes were
wide open, vacant of expression, but set upon Antony Ferrara's
ungloved left hand.

Ferrara turned slowly to face her, until his back was towards the two
men in the library. She began to speak, in a toneless, unemotional
voice, raising her finger and pointing at a ring which Ferrara wore.

"I know you now," she said; "I know you, son of an evil woman, for you
wear her ring, the sacred ring of Thoth. You have stained that ring
with blood, as she stained it--with the blood of those who loved and
trusted you. I could name you, but my lips are sealed--I could name
you, brood of a witch, murderer, for I know you now."

Dispassionately, mechanically, she delivered her strange indictment.
Over her shoulder appeared the anxious face of Mrs. Hume, finger to
lip.

"My God!" muttered Cairn. "My God! What--"

"S--sh!" his father grasped his arm. "She is asleep!"

Myra Duquesne turned and quitted the room, Mrs. Hume hovering
anxiously about her. Antony Ferrara faced around; his mouth was oddly
twisted.

"She is troubled with strange dreams," he said, very huskily.

"Clairvoyant dreams!" Dr. Cairn addressed him for the first time. "Do
not glare at me in that way, for it may be that _I_ know you, too!