But this he positively refused to do. The animal was hidden away, and all she could say or do failed to compel its production. "Dobbin is ill; he is in the paddock," was all that he would say. And from this position she failed to move him. Ultimately she had to go without it. She made George promise to bring it from the paddock next day, and relying on this slender chance of recovering a toy which should never have fallen into his hands, Ruth went her way, hoping to learn something from Mrs. Garvey about the broken link. Mrs. Garvey was a thin, pale woman, who practised the calling of a clairvoyant, in opposition to her husband's wishes. "My dear!" cried the lady, receiving Ruth with great effusion. "I am glad to see you. But this is not unexpected; for it was borne in upon me, by some telepathic communication, that you were in trouble, and would come to me for assistance. Well. I am quite ready to give it to you." "Do you know----" Ruth began, somewhat I puzzled by this exordium. "I know nothing--nor do I wish to know. The spiritual insight I possess will reveal to me what is for your good. Come into my temple, and I will see what is to be done." The room which was dignified by the name of temple was a small bare apartment thickly carpeted, the windows being darkened by green blinds. For quite three minutes there was a dead silence. Then Mrs. Garvey spoke. "Murder," she said, in a low emotional voice. "This piece of gold has to do with a crime. I see a bare room--a child with a knife in his hand--a dead man at the child's feet. There is hate in my heart--not of the child; but of the dead. I am in the darkness--in mist--in rain--the dead man is my enemy he will trouble me no more." "But who are you?" cried Ruth, her blood running cold at hearing the circumstances of the crime so minutely described. The woman gave a low cry. "I will not tell--I will not tell!" she said, in a fierce voice, quite at variance with that in which she usually spoke. "I am safe after all these years! I am--you--will never----" Her voice died away in a drawl, and she became silent. "Tell me more--more!" cried Ruth, springing towards her. But Mrs. Garvey made no reply. The influence of the spirit, of the piece of gold, or whatever else it was that moved her, had passed, and she was in what appeared to be a heavy sleep. Seeing that nothing further was to be got out of her for the moment, Ruth obeyed the instructions which she had received beforehand, and drawing up the green blind, opened the window. The light and the keen air pouring into the room seemed to dispel Mrs. Garvey's drowsiness. She stirred, moved her arms, and woke with a yawn to find Miss Cass bending over her. Of all that had passed she was evidently quite oblivious; she even seemed surprised at the sight of her visitor's scared face. "My dear," she said at last, "I hope I have not been telling you anything very terrible!" "Don't you know what you have said?"