"_Tiens!_" she cried suddenly, "what have you got there?" and she took
the pink card out of Sylvia's hand.

"Madame Cagliostra?" she repeated, musingly. "Now where did I hear that
name? Yes, of course it was from our chambermaid! Cagliostra is a friend
of hers, and, according to her, a marvellous person--one from whom the
devil keeps no secrets! She charges only five francs for a consultation,
and it appears that all sorts of well-known people go to her, even those
whom the Parisians call the _Gratin_, that is, the Upper Crust, from the
Champs Elysées and the Faubourg St. Germain!"

"I don't think much of fortune-tellers," said Sylvia, thoughtfully.
"I went to one last time I was in London and he really didn't tell me
anything of the slightest interest."

Her conscience pricked her a little as she said this, for "Pharaoh" had
certainly predicted a journey which she had then no intention of taking,
and a meeting with a foreign woman. Yet here she was in Paris, and here
was the foreign woman standing close to her!

Nay more, Anna Wolsky had become--it was really rather odd that it should
be so--the first intimate friend of her own sex Sylvia had made since she
was a grown-up woman.

"I do believe in fortune-tellers," said Madame Wolsky deliberately, "and
that being so I shall spend my afternoon in going up to Montmartre, to
the Rue Jolie, to hear what this Cagliostra has to say. It will be what
you in England call 'a lark'! And I do not see why I should not give
myself so cheap a lark as a five-franc lark!"