She had taken up her sewing and was now busy with it. From moment to moment Hafiz took liberties with her spool of thread where he sprawled beside her, patting it this way and that until it fell upon the floor and Dane was obliged to rescue it. It had grown cooler. A breeze from the open windows occasionally stirred her soft hair and the smoke of Dane's cigar. They had been silent for a few moments. Threading her needle she happened to glance up at him, and saw somebody else standing just behind him--a tall man, olive-skinned and black-bearded--and knew instantly that he was not alive. Serenely incurious, she looked at the visitor, aware that the clothes he wore were foreign, and that his features, too, were not American. And the next moment she gazed at him more attentively, for he had laid one hand on Dane's shoulder and was looking very earnestly across at her. He said distinctly but with a foreign accent: "Would you please say to him that the greatest of all the ancient cities is hidden by the jungle near the source of the middle fork. It was called Yhdunez." "Yes," she said, unconscious that she had spoken aloud. Dane lifted his head, and remained motionless, gazing at her intently. The visitor was already moving across the room. Halfway across he looked back at Athalie in a pleasant, questioning manner; and she nodded her reassurance with a smile. Then her visitor was there no longer; and she found herself, a trifle confused, looking into the keen eyes of Captain Dane. Neither spoke for a moment or two; then he said, quietly: "I did not know you were clairvoyant." "I--see clearly--now and then." "I understand. It is nothing new to me." "You _do_ understand then?" "I understand that some few people see more clearly than the great majority." "Do you?" "No.... There was a comrade of mine--a Frenchman--Jacques Renouf. He was like you; he saw." "Is he living?--I mean as we are?" "No." "Was he tall, olive-skinned, black-bearded--" "Yes," said Dane coolly; "did you see him just now?" "Yes." "I wondered.... There are moments when I seem to feel his presence. I was thinking of him just now. We were on the upper Amazon together last winter." "How did he die?" "He'd been off by himself all day. About five o'clock he came into camp with a poisoned arrow broken off behind his shoulder-blade. He seemed dazed and stupefied; but at moments I had an idea that he was trying to tell us something." Dane hesitated, shrugged: "It was no use. We left our fire as usual and went into the forest about two miles to sleep. Jacques died that night, still dazed by the poison, still making feeble signs at me as though he were trying to tell me something.... I believe that he has been near me very often since, trying to speak to me." "He laid his hand on your shoulder, Captain Dane."