They feared, it seemed, to speak. Who would be the first? And who would
dare the oracle? The Count von Oeltzen arose. Brave, noble man! He
approached the couch and took Navarro's hand in his own. The medium
was now in a trance. His body was quite limp. A breathless silence
fell upon the gathering. It lasted about four minutes. Then Navarro
began to speak, not in his ordinary booming baritone, but in a high
falsetto--his spirit organ, no doubt. The language employed was German. "I see," said he, "a short fat man in the uniform of an Austrian
courier. He is seated in a railway train. He is smoking a cheroot. He has on his knees a small, flat iron box. It is a despatch box. It
contains letters and despatches. He is coming to England----"

"Ah!" sighed the Count. "Ah! Ah!" sighed the Countess. "He is on his way to you," went on Navarro. "The despatches are for
you. One of them is in a cipher. It relates to your recall. It----"

But the Count on that instant dropped Navarro's hands as if they had
burnt him and abruptly rose up, the picture of agitation. He turned and
looked at the Countess. She stood up, most agitated, too. "My friends,"
he began. But the Countess said "Hush!" He bowed to her, bowed to Lady
Helen and offered his wife a shaking arm. They forthwith left the room. It was most dramatic. For a little while everybody sat under a sort of
spell. I was glad, because I felt disinclined to break up the party
by expressing my views on Navarro's revelation, and if any one had
said a word I should have been compelled to speak, I was so angry that
sensible people could allow themselves to be imposed upon so easily. Moreover, I wished to learn what Miss Ottley's object was. When,
therefore, Mrs. Greaves quietly arose and moved to the couch, I said a
little prayer of thankfulness. Presently the high falsetto squeaked forth in Irish-Spanish-English. "I see--a large building, square, very tall. It is made of
steel and stone. It is in America--in New York. It is a
hotel. I see in it a room. There are tables and chairs. Then
one--two--three--four--five--six are there. They play cards. The game
is poker. One loses. He is young. He is English. He has a little cast
in his left eye. His name is Julian Greaves. The floor is littered with
cards. Julian Greaves is annoyed because he loses. He----"

The voice ceased. Mrs. Greaves was returning to us. She was smiling. She said to Lady
Helen in her calm, slow way, "I believe, my dear, that my naughty son
is at present occupied exactly as you have heard described. Signor
Navarro has a great gift. Good-night, my dear--No, I cannot stay--I
promised the Bexleys. Do not trouble----"

She had gone. Dixon Hubbard walked over to the couch. I glanced at Lady Helen. She
was biting her lower lip--and holding her breath. I stole across the
room on tip-toe and sat down beside her. "I see," said Navarro, after the proper interval, "a woman. She is
young and very beautiful. (Oh! artful Navarro.) Her mind is deeply
troubled. The person she cares most for despises her. On that account
she is wretchedly unhappy, although she permits no one to suspect it. She is not far away. She----"

But Hubbard had dropped the medium's hand like hot potatoes. "It is your turn, Captain Weldon," he said, with a poor attempt at
jocularity. "Step forward and have the secret of your life laid bare." He gave his wife a scorching glance and sauntered out of the room. "How much did you pay Navarro for that last?" I whispered in Lady
Helen's ear. She gave me a radiant smile. "Nothing to call me beautiful," she
whispered back. Weldon had taken the medium's hands. Immediately he did so, Navarro
heaved a portentous sigh. I watched his face very narrowly, and
somewhat to my surprise I observed it to turn to a horrid, fishy,
whitish-yellow colour. Presently his eyelids slightly opened,
disclosing the whites. The eyes were fixed upwards rigidly. He looked
simply monstrous. For the first time I doubted his mala fides. There
were many signs of cataleptic trance about him. I stole over to the
foot of the couch and inserted a pin into the calf of his leg. Not a
muscle twitched. Evidently he had hypnotised himself. I tried the other
leg, with an equal result. I became furious. It seemed just possible
that the fellow had some esoteric faculty after all. Science, of
course, scouts the phenomena of clairvoyancy, but in my younger days
I had witnessed so many experiments with hypnotised subjects in Paris
that I had ever since kept an open mind on the question. This time we
waited for quite a while for the medium to begin his manifestations. Perhaps ten minutes passed and he was still silent. But by that time I
felt convinced of his unconsciousness. "Ask him some question, Weldon,"
I said quietly. "He is not shamming, I believe. In my opinion he is in
hypnotic sleep and cannot act as his own Barnum." Weldon laughed, but before he could adopt my hint Miss Ottley glided to
the couch and standing at the head of it put her fingers lightly on the
medium's eyes. "I know what to do," she said, looking at me. "I have seen him in this
state before. He is not a charlatan, Dr. Pinsent, at least when he is
like this. Presently you will see. He will astonish you, I think." "I wish you'd ask him where the lost key of my saratoga is, May,"
whispered Weldon. Navarro answered the question instantly, and in his natural
reverberating baritone. "It is lying on the top of the canopy of your bed in your bedroom in
Jermyn Street." "By Gad!" cried Weldon. "That's where it is as sure as I stand here. I
tossed it up there a month ago and more--and forgot all about it." "Hush!" said Miss Ottley. "Think of Dr. Belleville, Frankfort, please." Weldon frowned. "You might have chosen a pleasanter topic," he muttered. "Hush!" said the girl again. A moment later she bent over the medium. "Speak!" she commanded. "Tell
us what you see!" Navarro sighed. "I see a large room," he began. "It is half library,
half laboratory. One part of it is filled with racks of books and
parchments. At the other end is a dispensary made up of shelves
containing jars of different oils and phials filled with drugs. In the
middle of the room is a table spread with maps and papyri. The papyri
are inscribed with hieroglyphics. Beside the table, standing on two
steel trestles, is a large sarcophagus of lead and iron lined with
silver. The lid is propped against the wall near by. It is ornamented
with the leaden cast of a man. An inscription states that this man is
Ptahmes, a high priest of Amen-Ra. His body was once enclosed within
the sarcophagus. It is now, however, reclining on a couch at a little
distance from the table----"

"Describe it!" said Miss Ottley. "It is apparently the body of a man of latter middle age. It is of
great proportions. It is almost seven feet in length. But the body is
very lank and shrunken and ill nourished. The head is of extraordinary
shape and dimensions. It is very large and long, and broad.