The explanation of her motives was given so naïvely, so simply and
unaffectedly, that it was impossible to take exception to it.

"Where's the crystal?" I inquired.

"It is here," she said, and she rolled a glass ball with the
suddenness that had the appearance of magic from the dark portion of
the table's surface into the oval of light. And it was so exactly
spherical, and the table top was so smooth that it would not stay
where it was put, and she had to hold it there with her ringed hand.

"So that's it," I remarked.

"Carl," she said, "it is only right I should warn you. Some weeks ago
I saw in the crystal the face of a man whom I did not know. I saw it
again and again--and always the same scene. Then I saw you at the
Opera last week, and Sullivan introduced you as his cousin that he
talks about sometimes. Did you notice that night that I behaved rather
queerly?"

"Yes." I spoke shortly.

"You are the man whom I saw in the crystal."

"Really?" I ejaculated, smiling, or at least trying to smile. "And
what is the scene of which I am part?"

"You are standing--But no!"