hand and drawing her towards me, for as she stood there looking down at
me she seemed somehow to magnetize me. "Sit by me, here, and I'll
tell you."

I told her of the conversation at the club, of Lord Easterton's dinner,
of Osborne's queer suggestion, of our visit to the house at Maresfield
Gardens in the middle of the night, of our being admitted by the strange
woman, including, of course, the incident of the serpent.

When I had finished, she looked at me seriously for some moments without
speaking.

"I don't think I like that adventure," she said at last.

For a moment she paused.

"Don't go to that house again, Mike," she suddenly exclaimed. "Promise
me you won't."

I was deliberating what reply I should make to this request, though I
did not think it likely I should want to go to the house again, when our
attention was distracted by the footman entering with the morning
papers--we were sitting in the big hall, before the fire of
blazing logs.

Dulcie sprang up and snatched the papers from the man, and Dick,
bouncing in at that instant, exclaimed with mock solemnity:

"Oh fie! 'Thou shalt not snatch,' Dulcie, you are 'no lady.'"