Wenk sat on his hostess’s left, with the Hungarian police superintendent close at hand. The rich hangings on the little stage swayed lightly, and a tall, broad-shouldered man, with rather bowed shoulders, came forward. He was well and fashionably dressed, but in contrast to the other guests, who were all in evening clothes, he wore a dark grey woollen street-suit. It was at once evident that the hand covered with a dark grey glove was an artificial one. “He is a Hungarian, that’s quite certain,” thought Wenk, “in spite of his German name.” Weltmann had a thick black moustache with drooping ends. His eyebrows rose suddenly, making a high arch over his eyes. His black hair was combed right back and plastered smooth. The few words he spoke were simple and somewhat rough. He said that the gifts he was about to display before the Prince and Princess and their guests were matters of fact, and he thought that the guests would prefer facts rather than an attempt to explain in words what would probably never be explainable. He would first offer himself as subject, and ask someone to name a lady and a gentleman in the company. Perhaps the Princess would name one. Then the Princess said, “As the gentleman you want, I should like to name my neighbour, Herr von Wenk!” “And the lady? Perhaps the Prince would name the lady?” The Prince answered at once, “Then I shall name my wife.” Weltmann seated himself, laying his artificial hand upon his knee in a way which everyone noticed. The other hand he kept in his coat-pocket. After a pause, in which he had collected his thoughts, he said, “Princess, have I ever had your watch in my hand--the little watch you carry in your hand-bag?” “I don’t believe you ever have!” answered the Princess. “The number of that watch is 56403. It is an oval-shaped _dernier-cri_ design!” The Princess drew out her watch, opened it, read the number, and nodded. She showed it to both her neighbours, and said eagerly, “That’s quite right!” “Please to think of a colour and write it down upon a piece of paper, and show it to your neighbours.” The Princess considered a while. Then she wrote down, “The amethyst colour of Herr von Wenk’s ring,” and handed the piece of paper to Wenk. Weltmann thought for some time, then he said hesitatingly: “It is a colour in your immediate neighbourhood, but it is rather indefinite. It is transparent, so it is probably that of a jewel. I cannot say exactly what two colours it is made up of, but there is violet in it.” “Lift your ring up to the light, Herr von Wenk,” said the Princess, and all could see that a deep violet was mingled with a transparent bluish-white. “Which gentleman did the Princess name?” asked Weltmann. “My neighbour, Herr von Wenk,” she replied.