Truly the Lyons road is full of variety and picturesqueness, running, as it does, through those rich vinelands and mountains of the Cote d'Or, before descending to the valley where the broad Saone flows south to join the mighty Rhone. Passing through the beautiful Saussey forest, where the thick trees met in many places overhead, we shot through Ivry village, and, fifty kilometres after leaving Arnay-le-Duc, were compelled to slow down on entering the busy agricultural town of Chalons-sur-Saone. There we came to the river-bank, following it through a number of villages well-known in the wine-country, St Loup, Beaumont, Tournus, and Fleurville, until at last we found ourselves passing slowly over the uneven cobbles and among the curious high-gabled houses of old-world Macon. There, at the Hotel Terminus, we lunched, and afterwards, while Shaw sat smoking, I went forth with Asta to an antiquarian, to whom we were recommended, in order to buy antique crosses. In the musty old shop, down in the older part of the town, kept by a short, bald-headed, but urbane Frenchman, we found several treasures, beautiful old crucifixes of carved ivory and mother-of-pearl which Asta at once purchased in great delight and at moderate prices. I bought an old thumb-ring and a couple of other trifles, and having plenty of time at our disposal we strolled into the old cathedral and had a look round the market-place. Ah! how delightful it was to be her escort; how sweet to have her even for one single hour alone! As we retraced our way to the hotel with halting steps, I resolved to tell her of my weird experience of the previous night. "A curious thing happened to me last night--or rather very early this morning," I said, turning to her as we walked. She looked quickly into my face and her lips were pressed together. But only for a second. "What was that? Tell me," she said. "Well. Do you see upon my left cheek a long red mark? It's going away now, but it was very plain this morning," I said. "Yes," she replied. "I noticed it when we started. It hardly shows at all now." "Well, its cause is quite inexplicable--a mystery," I said. "I am in no way superstitious, and I am no believer in the supernatural, but in that inn at Arnay-le-Duc there is a Something--something uncanny. I was sound asleep when, just before night gave place to day, a cold hand touched my cheek--a phantom hand that left the mark which you see?" "A hand?" she gasped, staring at me, her lips pale and cheeks suddenly blanched. "Explain it. I--I can't understand." "I awoke quickly at the chill death-like contact, and saw the hand a few inches from my face--thin, claw-like, and yet a dark shadowy phantom which disappeared in an instant, even before I, so suddenly awakened, could realise what it actually was. But it was a hand--of that I am absolutely positive."