of the party, has to say to it."

There was an ugly leer in the old woman's eye as she spoke, and the
thought struck me that Voltaire had been making friends with her.

"Yes," said Voltaire; "I am sure we should all like to know whether Mr.
Blake is convinced."

"I am convinced that Mr. Kaffar has a good memory," I said.

"Good memory! What do you mean?"

"Why, Mr. Voltaire and his friends have come a few years too late to
make a good impression. I have not only seen a better performance at a
dozen entertainments, but I have found out the secret of what is called
'thought-reading.'"

"Do you mean to say you have seen similar feats before?" asked Voltaire,
savagely.

"At least a dozen times," I replied. "In a few years' time, we shall see
the like performed on the sands at our fashionable watering-places."

"I am glad," said Kaffar, "that the education of your country has so far
advanced."

I went on talking, not realizing that I was all the time forging a chain
that should hold me in cruel bondage. "I am afraid it says very little
for our education," I replied. "Some clever fellow has invented a clever
system for asking and answering questions, and those who have taken the