inted its
backers. But he didn't make this. He brought it from the World of
Spirits, beyond the grave. It is intended for internal use only, being
quite inoperative when injected into a vein. Irene unpacked my valise
when I came back, and touched the bottle. And an hour afterwards she saw
that her white cornelian had turned red."

"Nonsense! It was a coincidence. Stones do change."

"I grant you it was a coincidence. Sunrise and daybreak are
coincidences. But one is because of t'other. Irene believed my poison
turned her stone red, or she would never have refused to wear it a
minute longer, from an unreasonable dislike of the Evil One, whose
influence she discerned in this simple, natural phenomenon. I considered
myself justified in boning the ring for my own use, so I had it enlarged
to go on my finger, and there it is, on! I shall never see it again,
unless Septimius Severus turns up trumps. What colour should you say it
was now?"

Gwen took the hand with the mystic ring on it, turning it this way and
that, to see the light reflected. "Pale pink," she said. "Yes--certainly
pale pink." She appeared amused, and unconvinced. "I had no idea 'Re was
superstitious. You are excusable, dearest, because, after all, you are
only a man. One expects a woman to have a little commonsense. Now
if...." She appeared to be wavering over something--disposed towards
concessions.

"Now if what?"

"If the ring had had a character from its last place--if it had
distinguished itself before...."

"Oh, I thought I told you about that. I forgot. It was a ring with a
story, that came somehow to my great-great-grandfather, when he was in
Paris. It had done itself great credit--gained quite a reputation--at
the Court of Louis Quatorze, on the fingers I believe of the Marchioness
de Brinvilliers and Louise de la Valliere.... Yes, I think both, but
close particulars have always been wanting. 'Re only consented to wear
it on condition she should be allowed to disbelieve in it, and then when
this little stramash occurred through my bringing home the Warroo
poison, her powers of belief at choice seem to have proved
insufficient.... Isn't that her, coming back?"

It was; and when she came into the room a moment later, Gwen
said:--"We've been talking about your ring, and a horrible little bottle
of Red Indian poison this silly obstinate man has got hidden away and
won't give me."

"I know," said Irene. "He's incorrigible. But don't you believe