"My sister has a feeling that the house is lonely. She shivers when she has to go into it after night-fall." Signor Talcke let his hands fall on the table, and lifted his face. Apparently, he was digesting this revelation. I do not think he knew the "sister" was present. For my part, disliking publicity, I slipped behind Anna Bosanquet, and stood by Charley Palliser. "Shivers?" repeated the Italian. "Shivers and trembles, and turns sick at having to go in," affirmed Nancy. "So she told me when I arrived home from England." "If a feeling of that sort assailed me, I should never go into the house again," said the signor. "But how could you help it, if it were your home?" she argued. "All the same. I should regard that feeling as a warning against the house, and never enter it. Then you are not yourself troubled with superstitious fears?" he broke off, returning to the business in hand, and looking at the cards. "Well--at present--it does not seem to touch you, this curious terror which is assuredly in the house----" "I beg your pardon," interrupted Ann. "Why do you say 'at present'? Is it to touch me later?" "I cannot say. Each time that the cards have been spread it has shown itself nearer to you. It is not yet very near. Apart from that terror--or perhaps remotely connected with it--I see evil threatening you--great evil." "Is it in the house?" "Yes; hovering about it. It is not only yourself it seems to threaten. There is some one else. And it is nearer to that person than it is to you." "But who is that person?--man or woman?" "It is a woman. See this ugly card," continued he, pointing with his pencil; "it will not be got rid of, shuffle as you will; it has come nearer to that woman each time." The card he pointed to was more curious-looking than any other in the pack. It was not unlike the nine of spades, but crowded with devices. The gentleman opposite, whom I did not know, leaned forward and touched the card with the tip of his forefinger. "Le cercueil, n'est-ce-pas?" said he. "My!" whispered an English lad's voice behind me. "Cercueil? that means coffin." "How did you know?" asked Signor Talcke of the grey-bearded man. "I was at the Sous-Préfect's soirée on Sunday evening when you were exhibiting. I heard you tell him in French that that was the ugliest card in the pack: indicating death." "Well, it is not this lady the card is pursuing," said the signor, smiling at Ann to reassure her. "Not yet awhile, at least. And we must all be pursued by it in our turn, whenever that shall come," he added, bending over the cards again. "Pardon me, madame--may I ask whether there has not been some unpleasantness in the house concerning money?" Nancy's face turned red. "Not--exactly," she answered with hesitation. "We are like a great many more people--not as rich as we should wish to be."