manner that every one was mystified.

"Have you read about the great robbery that occurred last
night?" asked Mr. Paddington, with the evident purpose of
diverting attention from the young lady. "The vaults of the
Metropolitan Bank on Wall Street were blown open with
dynamite, and half a million dollars were stolen. No trace
of the thieves has been discovered."

"Too bad!" exclaimed half a dozen of the guests seeking to
enhance interest in the subject.

"Zey were very bold about it," said the Count, as he lighted
a piece of sugar soaked in cognac and held it over his
coffee.

Just at that moment a singular thing happened. The lights
grew dim and suddenly went out, as if the gas had been
turned off. The burning cognac cast a white flickering light
upon the face of the man who had just spoken.

"You say there is no trace of the thieves," said Rayel.
"That is strange, for one of them is in this room sitting at
your table."

Only one face was visible, and all eyes were turned upon it,
for now the effect of that pale light keeping it in view was
indescribably weird. The eyes were suddenly turned in the
direction of Rayel, and a devilish glare came in them for an
instant, when the face suddenly seemed to shrink back into