"What do you think of it, eh, Denzil?" he asked.

The young man started as from a dream.

"I don't know what to think of it."

"And you?" said the Doctor, addressing Ross Courtney.

"I? Oh, I am of the same opinion as Fulkeward,--I think it is a
horrible thing. And the curious part of the matter is that it is
like the Princess Ziska, and yet totally unlike. Upon my word, you
know, it is a very unpleasant picture."

Dr. Dean got up and paced the room two or three times, his brows
knitted in a heavy frown. Suddenly he stopped in front of Gervase.

"Tell me," he said, "have you any recollection of ever having met
the Princess Ziska before?"

Gervase looked puzzled, then answered slowly:

"No, I have no actual recollection of the kind. At the same time,
I admit to you that there is something about her which has always
struck me as being familiar. The tone of her voice and the
peculiar cadence of her laughter particularly affect me in this
way. Last night when I was dancing with her, I wondered whether I
had ever come across her as a model in one of the studios in Paris
or Rome."

The Doctor listened to him attentively, watching him narrowly the