It was the first time he had seen the woman’s face, and he found himself staring foolishly at her. She was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen—beautiful in a sensuous Eastern fashion—and Billy Merton suddenly realized that he was gaping at her like a callow schoolboy. Abruptly he looked away, annoyed with himself at his gaucherie, to find that he was not the only person who was interested in the lady. For his hostess, though ostensibly speaking to the Professor, was watching her husband’s companion with a look on her face which left no doubt as to her feelings on the subject. "So that’s how the land lies, is it?" thought Merton; and the remark he had overheard at the club came back to him. He knew there had been a woman in it. "Iris, I want you to meet Mr. Merton." His host’s voice made him look up quickly. "Let me introduce you to Miss Sala." Merton rose and bowed: on the instant the remark had returned to his memory. "There will be a crash soon," a man had said, "with Harker and that Sala girl." And now he was talking to the Sala girl, and deciding that if she was beautiful at a distance she was ten times more beautiful close to. "No," he found himself saying, "I’ve not done much of this sort of thing in England, though I’ve seen a good deal of what the African native calls _ju-ju_." "And it interests you?" Her voice was deep and very sweet. "Very much," said Merton. "I’m most curious to see what is going to happen to-night." For a moment the smile seemed to ripple over the surface of her eyes: then once more they were inscrutable. "It’s rather exciting if it comes off," she remarked, thoughtfully. "Everything is pitch-dark, of course, and then you hear signs and groans, and sometimes a hand comes out and touches you." "But do you really believe——" began Merton, incredulously. "I don’t believe—I know," said the girl, calmly. "Why, at one séance I attended a jade necklace I was wearing was wrenched off my neck. The fastening was broken, and all the beads rolled about the floor. And everyone had been bound in their chairs, Mr. Merton, before we started." Billy nodded discreetly; it occurred to him that he had heard stories like that before. "You hear something moving round the room," she continued, "something you know was not there at the beginning—and won’t be there at the end. And sometimes it bumps against you, and then it goes on floundering and moving about the room. It sounds like a sack of potatoes being dragged about at times, and then it changes and you hear soft footfalls." Again Billy nodded: he was prepared to listen indefinitely to this sort of stuff when the speaker was Iris Sala. "It sounds more than rather exciting," he said, with a grin. "Let’s hope we get the jolly old flounderer to-night."