eturned their pleasant speech with her accustomed ease, and then
turning to Hayden, as if consulting him about the arrangements for her
fortune-telling, said in a low tone:

"The man you wish to see has returned and I have arranged a meeting in my
library to-morrow afternoon between you and the owners of the property.
You will be there, of course."

"Naturally." He smiled. Ah, the thing was really to be settled at last.
He drew a long sigh of relief as the burden of this waiting and suspense
fell from his shoulders. Hayden's experience since the discovery of The
Veiled Mariposa had convinced him that anything, anything was better than
uncertainty.

Meantime, Ydo, her Spanish accent more marked than usual, if anything,
had asked: "Which is it first? The palms, or the crystal, or what,
senor?" addressing Hayden.

"Do not leave it to me," he answered. "Ask the ladies."

The Mariposa turned inquiringly to the group of butterflies.

"Oh, the crystal," said Bea Habersham. "I'm sure mademoiselle couldn't
find a new line on any of our hands."

"The crystal, Eunice."

Ydo spoke to the secretary over her shoulder, and that young woman
silently and very deftly set to work. She cleared a small table, placed
it in front of the Mariposa, and deposited upon it the cushion and the
crystal, and finally, she threw some powder into a quaint bronze
incense-brazier, and then seated herself at the piano.

"I will ask the rest of you to remain absolutely quiet," said Ydo. "Now,
Eunice, begin."

Eunice obediently struck a few strange chords, and then fell into a
monotonous melody with a recurring refrain repeated again and again. The
blue smoke from the incense-brazier curled lazily upward in long spirals
and floated through the room, filling it with a pungent and heavy
sweetness; the monotonous music went on, the strange rhythm recurring in
an ever stronger beat. The Mariposa who had sat motionless gazing at the
crystal began to speak.

"Ah, the vision is not clear to-night. I see nothing but clouds. Your
figures appear for a moment and then disappear. Ah, here is Mr. Hayden
standing on a mountain top with his hands full of gold."

There was an explosion of laughter at this, and the Mariposa paused as if
innocently surprised. "Clouds!" she gazed into the crystal again. "Ah,
here is Mrs. Symmes. I see you in an immense studio, painting, painting
all the time, canvas after canvas. You will in the future devote your
life to art, m