her to open the window," she said rather
plaintively. It really was dreadfully stuffy!

Madame Cagliostra had gone to a sideboard from which she was taking two
packs of exceedingly dirty, queer-looking cards. They were the famous
Taro cards, but Sylvia did not know that.

When the fortune-teller was asked to open the window, she shook her head
decidedly.

"No, no!" she said. "It would dissipate the influences. I cannot do that!
On the contrary, the curtains should be drawn close, and if the ladies
will permit of it I will light my lamp."

Even as she spoke she was jerking the thick curtains closely together;
she even pinned them across so that no ray of the bright sunlight outside
could penetrate into the room.

For a few moments they were in complete darkness, and Sylvia felt a
queer, eerie sensation of fear, but this soon passed away as the
lamp--the "_Suspension_," as Madame Cagliostra proudly called it--was
lit.

When her lamp was well alight, the soothsayer drew three chairs up to the
round table, and motioned the two strangers to sit down.

"You will take my friend first," said Anna Wolsky, imperiously; and then,
to Sylvia, she said, in English, "Would you rather I went away, dear? I
could wait on the staircase till you were ready for me to come back. It
is not very pleasant to have one's fortune told when one is as young and
as pretty as you are, before other people."

"Of course I don't mind your being here!" cried Sylvia Bailey,
laughing--then, looking doubtfully at Madame Cagliostra, though it was
obvious the Frenchwoman did not understand English, "The truth is that I
should feel rather frightened if you were to leave me here all by myself.
So please stay."

Madame Cagliostra began dealing out the cards on the table. First slowly,
then quickly, she laid them out in a queer pattern; and as she did so she
muttered and murmured to herself. Then a frown came over her face; she
began to look disturbed, anxious, almost angry.

Sylvia, in spite of herself, grew interested and excited. She was sorry
she had not taken off her wedding-ring. In England the wise woman always
takes off her wedding-ring on going to see a fortune-teller. She was
also rather glad that she had left her pearls in the safe custody of
M. Girard. This little house in the Rue Jolie was a strange, lonely
place.

Suddenly Madame Cagliostra began to speak in a quick, clear, monotonous
voice.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the cards, whic