The door led into an alcove of a fair-sized room decorated in green. It was as little as possible like the mysterious sanctum of an ordinary "fortune teller" or crystal gazer. Juliet had seen two or three of these in several countries. They had always been Egyptian, or at least reminiscent of Leon Bakst. This might have been any woman's boudoir: but when Madame Veno had drawn the thin green curtains, the place seemed to fill with an emerald dusk, like the dusk of dreams, or the green dimness under sea. "I suppose you think I'm not very 'psychic'," the mistress of the room remarked, placing a chair for her visitor at a table covered with a square of green velvet. "People _do_ think that! Then, when they've consulted me, they're surprised sometimes. They get better results than from those who go in for what I call 'scenery'. You know what I mean?" "Yes," said Juliet, "I suppose I do know." "All I want to put me in the right frame of mind is _green_," explained Madame Veno, "this kind of green twilight." She switched away the velvet covering from the table. Underneath was a cushion, and a crystal which reflected the prevailing colour. Then she sat down opposite the Duchess. "The Countess told you what happened when I was looking into the crystal for her?" she asked. "Madame de Saintville said that you saw something which concerned me. But how did you _know_ it concerned me?" "Your face came into the crystal. I'd seen your photograph, and recognized you. Besides, I felt--I _felt_ that you were in great trouble." "What else did you see in the crystal?" "Let me look again, now you are here, and see if the same thing comes." As she spoke, Madame Veno bent forward and gazed closely into the transparent ball on a black base. Some moments passed in dead silence. Juliet watched the woman's features, which became fixed and masklike. Suddenly Madame Veno started slightly and began to speak. "I see--a handsome young man--very charming. It is your husband, Duchess. He is lying ill in a poor room. It seems to be a kind of cellar. He tosses about. He is delirious. He calls for you. I know that, because at the same time I see the picture I hear his voice. The name is 'Juliet!' I think he has had an accident. But I can't see what it was, I only know that he has hurt his head. I feel the pain myself. And I feel what he is thinking about: you--and something else. Ah, a rope of pearls! Now I get a whisper! It comes to me from his thoughts. He went in search of something that was lost--a thing of great value. Yes, the pearls!" "Did he get them?" Juliet asked, mechanically. She had little if any faith in the woman, but a faint thrill ran through her. She could not help being slightly impressed by the seeress's change of manner, and the hypnotized look in her eyes.