St. George rose, holding the little brazen disc which he had taken
from the table, and confronted his host, compelling his eyes.

"Perhaps you will tell us, Prince Tabnit," he said coolly, "what it
is that the people who use this device find against Miss Holland's
father?"

St. George heard Olivia's little broken cry.

"It is the same!" she exclaimed. "Aunt Dora--Mr. Frothingham--it is
the crucified sphinx that was on so many of the things that father
sent. Oh," she cried to the prince, "can it be possible that you
know him--that you know anything of my father?"

To St. George's amazement the face of the prince softened and glowed
as if with peculiar delight, and he looked at St. George with
admiration.

"Is it possible," he murmured, half to himself, "that your race has
already developed intuition? Are you indeed so near to the Unknown?"

He took quick steps away and back, and turned again to St. George, a
strange joy dawning in his face.

"If there be some who are ready to know!" he said. "Ah," he recalled
himself penitently to Miss Holland, "your father--Otho Holland, I
have seen him many times."

"_Seen Otho_!" shrilled Mrs. Hastings, as pink and trembling and
expressionless as a disturbed mold of jelly. "Oh, poor, dear Otho!