she did kill that man she spoke of. I don't think it's
possible. I expect she only _willed_ it, and that's not murder. Ugh!"
and she shuddered even in the warmth of the hot room where she had
selected to go first. "If the story leaks out--though I hope to
goodness it won't--how delighted that horrid Mrs Masterman will be.
She never liked her. Well I'm--if that isn't the princess herself
coming in! Her trance doesn't seem to have hurt her."

Slowly and languidly through the open doorway, the beautiful figure
swept in and up to the smaller chamber where sat the little American.

As Mrs Ray Jefferson looked at her, she became conscious of some subtle
intangible change that had shadowed, as it were, the marvellous beauty
of her face and form. Her large deep eyes had lost their lustre, her
clear creamy skin looked dull and opaque. Even the magnificent hair
seemed to have been robbed of its sheen, and here and there amidst its
masses gleamed a silvery thread.

Up to this moment her age had been a matter of much speculation, varying
from eighteen to twenty-six. Now one would have said unhesitatingly
that she was a woman of at least thirty years, and a woman who did not
carry those years lightly.

She sat down by Mrs Jefferson, and spoke in a low nervous voice. "I
knew I should find you here," she said. "I want your help. I think you
have always been my friend here. Do me one service. Tell me what
occurred in my room last night."

"Do you mean to say?" asked Mrs Jefferson, amazed, "that you don't
know?"

"Should I ask if I did?" she said, mournfully. "A great weight and
terror are on my soul--yet I cannot explain them. In some of my trances
I keep the memory of all I see; in some I lose it. I know nothing of
what I said last night after you spoke and I parted from Julian. It was
your voice that came between us. You have great psychic power; but it
is undeveloped."

"Good gracious!" cried Mrs Jefferson; "then, if I'm responsible for
what happened last night, I'll have nothing more to do with Occultism as
long as I live."

"I can't tell why it was," resumed the Princess, mournfully. "The chain
of communication broke, and I got away, and my great dread was that
Julian should suffer."

"Well, your dread is realised," said Mrs Jefferson. "Don't you know
he's very ill?"

She started, and grew deadly white. "Ill--Julian! No; I did not know.
What is it?--serious do they say?"

"Very. Some shock to