"But the undoubted fact remains that we each saw, reflected in that mirror, objects which were not at that moment in the room. In fact we saw the _past_ reflected, rather than the _present_. My psychic authority considers that both our impressions came to us through Ronnie's mind, and were already fading, owing to the fact that he had become unconscious. I, coming in later than you, merely saw the Florentine chair in position. All else in my view of the reflection appertained to the actual present, into which the long-ago past was then rapidly merging. But you, coming in a few moments sooner, and being far more _en rapport_ with the spirit of the scene, saw the tall man in a red cloak--whom you call the Avenger--strangling the girl. By the way, why do you call him the Avenger?" "Because," said Helen, slowly, "there was murder in the cruel face of the woman, and there was a dagger in her hand. She had struck her blow before he appeared upon the scene. I know this, because it was the flare of his crimson cloak, as he rushed in, which first caught my eye, in the firelight, and made me look into the mirror at all. Before that I was intent on Ronnie. The Avenger seized the woman from behind; I saw his brown hands on the whiteness of her throat. Grief and horror were on his face, as he looked over her shoulder, and past the chair, at the prostrate heap upon the floor." "Which heap," said Dick, trying to speak lightly, "was our poor Ronnie." "No," said Helen, gazing straight before her into the fire, "the heap upon the floor was _not_ Ronnie." "But--I am positive!--I saw it myself! I saw you kneeling beside it. I helped to sort it, afterwards. The actual heap on the floor was the broken chair, Ronnie mixed up with it; and, on top of both, that unholy Infant, whose precocious receptivity is responsible for the entire business. I exonerate the Florentine chair; I exonerate poor Ronnie. I shall always maintain that that confounded 'cello worked the whole show, out of its own unaided tummy!" But Helen did not laugh. She did not even smile. "The heap on the floor was not Ronnie," she repeated firmly, "nor was I kneeling beside it. The Italian chair had not fallen over. Not a single thing appertaining to the present, was reflected in the picture as I first saw it. Dick, there was a conclusion to my vision of which I have never told you." "Oh, lor!" said Dick. "When I guaranteed the psychic chap that I was putting him in full possession of every detail!" "I am sorry, Dick. But until this moment I have never felt able to tell you. I cannot do so now, unless you are nice." "I _am_ nice," said Dick, "_very_ nice! Tell me quick."