The room was without windows, perfectly dark but for a softened light shed by a lamp in the centre of the high ceiling. The walls were painted black and on them were drawn strange figures and shapes in red. These had evidently not been painted by any artisan hand; though bold in touch, they were irregular in workmanship. Beside a great vessel which stood upon the ground, was a chair, and in this chair a figure upon which Hilary’s attention immediately became fastened. He saw at once that it was not human, that it was not a lay figure, that it was not a statue. It resembled most a lay figure, but there was something strange about it which does not exist in the mere form on which draperies are hung. And its detail was elaborated; the skin was tinted, the eyes darkened correctly, the hair appeared to be human. Hilary remained at the doorway unable to advance because of the fascination this form exercised upon him. The Princess looked back from where she stood in the centre of the room beneath the light; she saw the direction of his gaze and laughed. “You need not fear it,” she said. “Is it a lay figure?” asked Hilary, trying to speak easily, for he remembered that she despised those who knew fear. “Yes,” she answered, “it is my lay figure.” There was something that puzzled Hilary in her tone. “Are you an artist?” he asked. “Yes,” she answered, “in life—in human nature. I do not work with a pencil or a brush; I use an agent that cannot be seen yet can be felt.” “What do you mean?” asked Hilary. She turned on him a strange look, that was at first distrustful, and then grew soft and tender. “I will not tell you yet,” she said. Hilary roused himself to answer her lightly. “Have I to pass through some ordeal before you tell me?” he asked. “Yes,” she answered gaily, “and already an ordeal faces you. Dare you advance into the room or no?” Hilary made a great effort to break the spell that was on him. He went hastily across the room to where she stood. Then he realised that he had actually passed through an ordeal. He had resisted some force, the nature of which he knew not, and he had come out the victor. Realising this brought to him another conviction. “Princess,” he said, “there is some one else in this room besides you and me. We are not alone.” He spoke so suddenly, and from so great a sense of startled surprise, that he did not pause to think whether his question were a wise one or not. The Princess laughed as she looked at him. “You are very sensitive,” she said. “Certainly we were born under the same star, for we are susceptible to the same influences. No, we are not alone. I have servants here whom no eyes have seen but mine. Would you like to see them? Do not say yes hastily. It means a long and tedious apprenticeship, obtaining mastery over these servants. But unless you conquer them you cannot often see me; for if you are much near to me they will hate you, and their hate is greater than your power to resist it.”