"Carl--" Emmeline began, and paused.
The woman indubitably did affect me strangely. Hers was a lonely soul,
an unusual mixture of the absolutely conventional and of something
quite else--something bizarre, disturbing, and inexplicable. I was
conscious of a feeling of sympathy for her.
"Well?" I murmured.
"Do you believe in the supernatural?"
"I neither believe nor disbelieve," I replied, "for I have never met
with anything that might be a manifestation of it. But I may say that
I am not a hard and fast materialist." And I added: "Do you believe in
it?"
"Of course," she snapped.
"Then, if you really believe, if it's so serious to you, why do you
make a show of it for triflers?".
"Ah!" she breathed. "Some of them do make me angry. They like to play
at having dealings with the supernatural. But I thought the crystal
would be such a good thing for Sullivan's reception. It is very
important to Sullivan that this should be a great success--our first
large public reception, you know. Sullivan says we must advertise
ourselves."
The explanation of her motives was given so naïvely, so simply and
unaffectedly, that it was impossible to take exception to it.
"Where's the crystal?" I inquired.
"It is here," she said, and she rolled a glass ball with the
suddenness that had the appearance of magic from the dark portion of
the table's surface into the oval of light. And it was so exactly
spherical, and the table top was so smooth that it would not stay
where it was put, and she had to hold it there with her ringed hand.
"So that's it," I remarked.
"Carl," she said, "it is only right I should warn you. Some weeks ago
I saw in the crystal the face of a man whom I did not know. I saw it
again and again--and always the same scene. Then I saw you at the
Opera last week, and Sullivan introduced you as his cousin that he
talks about sometimes. Did you notice that night that I behaved rather
queerly?"
"Yes." I spoke shortly.
"You are the man whom I saw in the crystal."
"Really?" I ejaculated, smiling, or at least trying to smile. "And
what is the scene of which I am part?"
"You are standing--But no!"
She abruptly ceased speaking and coughed, clearing her throat, and she
fixed her large eyes on me. Outside I could hear the distant strain of
the orchestra, and the various noises of a great crowd of people. But
this little dark room, with its sharply defined oval of light, was
utterly shut off from the scene of gaiety. I was aware of an
involuntary shiver, and for the life of me I could not keep my gaze
steadily on the face of the tall woman who sat so still, with such
impressiveness, on the other side of the table. I waited for her to
proceed, and after what seemed a long interval she spoke again: "You aren't afraid, are you?" she demanded.