There was no anti-climax that night in the success of the Countess with her "clients." They were deeply impressed, and even startled. Not one woman said to herself that she had been tricked into giving the seeress a "lead." There was nothing in the past hidden from that crystal and the dark eyes which gazed into it! As for the future, her predictions were remarkable; and she must have given people flattering accounts of their characters, as everyone thought the analysis correct. What a pity, the women whispered, that such an astonishing person was not a professional, who could be paid in cash! As it was, she would expect to be rewarded with invitations: and though she was presentable, "You _know_, my dear, she's frightfully pretty, the red-haired sort, that's the most dangerous--not a bit safe to have about one's _men_. Still--no price is too high. We shall all be fighting for her--or over her." And before the evening had come to an end the Countess de Santiago had had several invitations for town and country houses. To be sure, they were rather informal. But the beautiful lady knew when to be lenient, and so she accepted them all. "She told me that our stolen things are hidden away for ever, and that we'll be robbed again," Connie said to her husband on the way back to Valley House. "She told me the same," said Dick. "And I hope to goodness we may be. We've done jolly well out of that last affair!" "Yes," his wife agreed. "The only thing I don't like about it is the _mystery_. It makes me feel as if something might be hanging over one's head." "Over the trustees' heads!" laughed Lord Annesley-Seton. "I wish the other night could be what the Countess called the 'first of a series.'" "The first of a series!" Constance repeated. "What a queer expression! What was she talking about?" "She was--looking in her crystal," answered Dick, slowly, as if something he had seen rose again before his eyes. Constance was pricked with curiosity. "You might tell me what the woman said!" she exclaimed. "You haven't told me what message she had for you." "I've just said that she prophesied we should be robbed again." "That's only one thing. What about the rest?" "Oh! A lot of stuff which wouldn't interest _you_!" "You can keep your secret. And I'll keep mine," remarked Dick Annesley-Seton, aggravatingly. "Anyhow, for the present. We'll see how it works out." "See how _what_ works out?" his wife echoed. "The series." CHAPTER XIII THE SERIES GOES ON After all, Annesley had not written to her friends, Archdeacon Smith and his wife, on leaving Mrs. Ellsworth's, to tell the surprising news of her engagement. She had asked Mr. Ruthven Smith not to speak of it to his cousins, because she would prefer to write. But then--the putting of the news on paper in a way not to offend them, after their kindness in the past, had been difficult.