After he had exhausted his vocabulary in describing some of his clairvoyant achievements he needlessly directed us to be silent. He had permitted none of us a chance to speak thitherto. We were to wait, he said, till he began to breathe in a peculiar heavy manner, and then who so wished to experiment, must take his hands and hold them firmly for a little while, thinking of the matter next the experimenter's heart; and then we should see what we should see. With a smile of lordly self-confidence he reposed his limbs upon a couch and sank back on the cushions. I glanced around the throng and saw they were all staring at Navarro--Miss Ottley with parted lips and rapt intentness. Her expression irritated me. Soon afterwards I met Hubbard's eyes. He gave me a scowl. I looked at Weldon. He turned and frowned at me. I directed my attention to Lady Helen. She grew restless and, presently moving in her chair, glanced rapidly about. She started when our eyes encountered and impulsively placed a finger on her lips. I hadn't thought of speaking. I was disgusted. Mrs. Greaves, the Countess and the Ambassador all in turn gave me scowling glances. It was as if everybody recognised and resented my secret scepticism. It appeared I was the only sane person in the room. Oh! no, there was Navarro. He was sane enough undoubtedly; the rogue. He was making his living. It was his business to make fools of people. I returned to contemplating him with a sense of positive relief. At least I could hope to be amused. He had closed his eyes and was therefore uglier than ever. His whole body was tense with silent effort. I wondered if some of his audience were unconsciously imitating him. They all were, except myself. I felt inclined to get up and shake them for a pack of self-delivered dupes, lambs self-abandoned to the sacrificial rites of this High Priest of Thomas-rot. Soon, friend Navarro began to breathe stertorously. So did his audience, for a minute or two. Then they turned and looked at one another and at me; and I rejoice to say my calm smile disconcerted them. But I refrained from glancing at Miss Ottley. I could not bear to see her look foolish. Perhaps she did not. They pointed at one another. They feared, it seemed, to speak. Who would be the first? And who would dare the oracle? The Count von Oeltzen arose. Brave, noble man! He approached the couch and took Navarro's hand in his own. The medium was now in a trance. His body was quite limp. A breathless silence fell upon the gathering. It lasted about four minutes. Then Navarro began to speak, not in his ordinary booming baritone, but in a high falsetto--his spirit organ, no doubt. The language employed was German. "I see," said he, "a short fat man in the uniform of an Austrian courier. He is seated in a railway train. He is smoking a cheroot. He has on his knees a small, flat iron box. It is a despatch box. It contains letters and despatches. He is coming to England----" "Ah!" sighed the Count.