However, Colonel Towton was extremely obstinate, and, having decided that Ida was the very wife he desired to preside over his dinner-table, he was determined not to let her be snatched from him by any rival. He admitted with some dread that Maunders was a formidable wooer, and moreover guessed, with the keen instinct of a man in love, that Frances Hest had too much control over the girl. For one thing, she had induced Ida to go to Diabella, a thing Towton would never have permitted had he been able to help it. He knew from his Indian experience only too well that there is truth in occultism, and that an impressionable being--such as Ida truly was--could easily be obsessed by strong suggestion. He had no reason to doubt Miss Hest, and did not think for one moment that she was his enemy in any way: but, with the assistance of suggestions from Diabella, she might lead Ida into unhealthy ways. And all those dealings with the unseen with which psychics have to do were unhealthy in the Colonel's very material eyes. Already, as he had seen for himself, the visit to Diabella had upset Ida; so, whatever the harm done might be, it was necessary to undo it by proving the woman to be a fraud. Towton therefore ascended the stairs to the consulting-room of Diabella with the intention of learning if the fortune-teller was a humbug. Once assured of that, he resolved to explain her methods to Miss Dimsdale and so prevent her trusting as truth whatever the woman had said. Then Ida's indignation at being duped, as the Colonel believed she had been, would probably shake Miss Hest's position. Towton felt certain that Frances was more friendly to Maunders than to himself, and at one sweep he hoped to get rid of both. Afterwards Ida would be more willing to become his wife. Diabella's offices, as they might be called, consisted of two rooms: a small outer one entered directly from the passage, and a spacious inner one which overlooked the street. As Towton tapped at the door of the prophetess his thoughts suddenly flew back to his many years of sojourn in the Far East. For the moment he could not think what had detached him so unexpectedly from England until, on stepping across the threshold of the now open door, he became aware of a strong, pungent scent, impossible to describe. At once he noted it as that smell of the bazaars, which runs without a break from Port Said to Hong Kong. Perfume is the strongest of aids to memory, therefore Towton's thoughts had flashed back over many years to various Indian experiences. His body was in England, but his soul was in the East: nor did the sight which met his eyes dispel the illusion. The room he entered and the attendant who welcomed him were both Egyptian in looks.