"A trick!" cried the girl indignantly, "to read a man's mind --
to see right through your forehead, through your skull, into
your brain? Is that a trick?" She turned sharply to Vance. "Show
him!" she commanded; "show him!" She crossed rapidly to the
window and stood looking down into the street, with her back to
the room.

Vance, with his back turned to Vera, stood close to the table,
on the other side of which Hallowell was reclining in his arm
chair. Vance picked up a pen holder.

"Think of what I have in my hand, please," he said. "What is
this, Vera?" he asked. The girl, gazing from the window at the
traffic in the avenue below her, answered with indifference, "A
pen holder."

"Yes, what about it?" snapped Vance.

"Gold pen holder," Vera answered more rapidly. "Much engraving
-- initials S. H. -- Mr. Hallowell's initials -- "

"There is a date too. Can you -- "

"December -- " Vera hesitated.

"Go on," commanded Vance.

"Twenty-five, one, eight, eight, six; one thousand eight hundred
and eighty-six." She moved her shoulders impatiently.