“Dear Friends: I do not come to you to-night with any gift or knowledge of my own winning. For some inscrutable reason it has been given me to read that which my physical eyes cannot discern. By some psychic telepathy, or telegraphy, which is as mysterious to me as to any one here, I am made the bearer of messages and permitted to see and describe to you that which is not visible to our mortal eyes.” She turned toward the gentleman by whom she had been presented, who now bound a handkerchief tightly over her eyes, and addressing the audience, requested that while Madame Lucien was passing under control an usher would gather up from the audience such articles as they would like to submit to the medium for psychic reading and identification. Handkerchiefs, gloves, pocket knives, etcetera, were being collected, and Nathan was about to detach a charm from his watchguard with which to test her powers, when he chanced to glance up at Major Walden. He was startled. The scene at the office seemed about to be reenacted. The Major’s face was livid and distorted. “What is the matter?” Nathan asked with alarm. “You—you—knew of this!” Walden hissed, with a desperate effort at self-control. “Knew of what? Great Heavens, Major, what do you mean?” “I can’t stay here. I will not!” He arose to his feet, and Nathan, taking his arm, led him to the open air. “You’re a villain, sir! I wouldn’t have treated an enemy as you have me. And I thought you my friend and trusted you. O Nathan, Nathan, how could you have done it? Why didn’t you tell me?” “Major Walden, I don’t understand what I have done that was wrong. ’Pon my honor I don’t!” said Nathan stoutly. “You knew it was a spirit—” “Did you ask me to that place to-night? Tell me!” “I certainly did, but I did not suppose it could be so offensive to you.” “You asked me there to see her?” “Her? Whom? My wife? I asked you to meet my wife, and Mrs. Wylie, and—” “And her, the woman that—” “Good God!” cried Nathan, a light breaking in upon him. “You don’t mean that Mrs. Lucien is—” “My lost wife, Agnes! Yes.” “Oh! my poor friend, forgive me. I never dreamed of such a thing. Believe me, Major, I am innocent of any such plot as this. Mrs. Lucien is an entire stranger to me. I only knew of her through Mrs. Wylie’s friendship for her, and she knows nothing of her past history. We have been blind instruments in the hands of Providence, Major. Why should it have happened?” “God knows, or the Devil. I’d rather have seen Agnes in her coffin, Bartram. That villain Teasdale must be with her.” “Impossible! Did he not tell you otherwise? Don’t, Major, lay that crime upon her in your excitement. Surely, surely she is blameless and good. Her face shows that.” “Aye! Her face is the face of an angel. O Agnes, Agnes! Nathan, I’m beset by a thousand furies and fiends of torture. What shall I do? I want to see her and talk with her. I must, now, now—that I’ve seen her at all.” Nathan was perplexed.