At this moment we passed Watson. He was watching; as our eyes glanced he shook his head. Who was this girl? She was as beautiful as sin and as tender as a virgin. What interest had she in myself? “That's just the reason,” I laughed. “You are too interested. You are too beautiful to wear it. I am a man; I revel in trouble; you are a girl. It would not be honourable to allow you to take it. I shall keep it.” She had overreached herself, and she knew it. She bit her lip. But she took it gracefully; so much so, in fact, that I thought she meant it. “I'm sorry,” she answered slowly. “I had hopes. It is terrible to look at Watson and then to think of you. It is, really”--a faint tremor ran through her body; her hand trembled--“it is terrible. You young men are so unafraid. It's too bad.” Just then the door was opened; outside I could see the bank of fog; someone passed. She turned a bit pale. “Excuse me. I must be going. Don't you see I'm sorry--” She held out her hand--the same sad little smile. On the impulse of the moment, unmindful of place, I drew it to my lips and kissed it. She was gone. I returned to the table. The three men were watching me: Watson analytically, the doctor with wonder, and Hobart with plain disgust. Hobart spoke first. “Nice for sister Charlotte, eh, Harry?” I had not a word to say. In the full rush of the moment I knew that he was right. It was all out of reason. I had no excuse outside of sheer insanity--and dishonour. The doctor said nothing. It was only in Watson's face that there was a bit of understanding. “Hobart,” he said, “I have told you. It is not Harry's fault. It is the Nervina. No man may resist her. She is beauty incarnate; she weaves with the hearts of men, and she loves no one. It is the ring. She, the Rhamda, the Blind Spot, and the ring. I have never been able to unravel them. Please don't blame Harry. He went to her even as I. She has but to beckon. But he kept the ring. I watched them. This is but the beginning.” But Hobart muttered: “She's a beauty all right--a beauty. That's the rub. I know Harry--I know him as a brother, and I want him so in fact. But I'd hate to trust that woman.” Watson smiled. “Never fear, Hobart, your sister is safe enough. The Nervina is not a woman. She is not of the flesh.” “Brr,” said the doctor, “you give me the creeps.” Watson reached for the brandy; he nodded to the doctor. “Just a bit more of that stuff if you please. Whatever it is, on the last night one has no fear of habit. There--Now, gentlemen, if you will come with me, I shall take you to the house of the Blind Spot.” IX “NOW THERE ARE THREE” I shall never forget that night. When we stepped to the pavement the whole world was shrouded. The heavy fog clung like depression; life was gone out--a foreboding of gloom and disaster. It was cold, dank, miserable; one shuddered instinctively and battered against the wall with steaming columns of breath. Just outside the door we were detained.