l that had possession of her
husband! And how when he died, he passed his devil on to his son, who
was worse than himself."

"That's good, though," said Adrian. "Only she never told me about the
son. I had it all about the witch-doctor whose devil came out because he
couldn't fancy the little scorpion's flavour. And all about the original
devil--a sort of opossum they call a devil...."

"She didn't tell me about him."

"They've got one at the Zoological Gardens. He's an ugly customer. The
keeper said he was a limb, if ever there was one. The old lady evidently
thought her idea that the doctor's devil was this little beggar's soul,
eaten up with his flesh, was indisputable. I told her I thought it had
every intrinsic possibility, and I'm sure she was pleased. But the
horror of her face when she spoke of him was really...."

"Adrian!"

"What, dearest? Anything the matter?"

"Only the way you put it. It was so odd. 'The horror of her face'! Just
as if you had _seen_ it!" Indeed, Gwen was looking quite disconcerted
and taken aback.

"There now!" said Adrian. "See what a fool I am! I never meant to tell
of that. Because I thought it threw a doubt on Scatcherd. I've been
wanting to make the most of Scatcherd. I never thought much of Septimius
Severus. Anyone might have said in my hearing that the bust was moved,
and it was just as I was waking. But I'll swear no one said anything
about Scatcherd. Why--there _was_ only Irene!"

Gwen went and sat by him on the sofa. "Listen, darling!" said she. "I
want to know what you are talking about. What was it happened, and why
did it throw a doubt on Miss Scatcherd?"

"It wasn't anything, either way, you know."

"I know. But what was it, that wasn't anything, either way?"

"It was only an impression. You mustn't attach any weight to it."

"Are you going to tell what it was, or _not_?"

"Going to. Plenty of time! It was when the old lady began telling me
about the devil. Her tone of conviction gave me a strong impression what
she was looking like, and made an image of her flash across my retina.
By which I mean, flash across the hole I used to see through when I had
a retina. It was almost as strong and life-like as real seeing. But I
knew it _wasn't_."

"But how--how--how?" cried Gwen, excited. "_How_ did you know that it
wasn't?"

"Because of the very white hair. It was snow-white--the image's. I
suppose I had forgotten which was which, of the two old ladies--had put