I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. ’ ‘Who is that?’ demanded Lucilla eagerly. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. He was still flashily dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots, but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. I was helpless. “Here is my card.
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