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Invasion of this secret temple produced no visible change in that entranced beauty. Lord Marcus raised his arms like a priest before the altar, and intoned words in his soft, musical voice, and in a language unfamiliar to any of those who listened. The long-lashed eyes of the woman never flickered. Lowering his arms, he stood aside, and for a period of perhaps a minute allowed the three men to watch—and to wonder. Then, turning, he gave a sweeping gesture to intimate that they should retire.

Stepping again on tiptoe, with extreme caution, acutely aware of their clumsy shoes, those who had watched withdrew. Lord Marcus reclosed the silent door, and replaced the purple curtain ...

It was Dr. Fawcett who broke an awkward silence. His expression, as he watched Lord Marcus, was diagnostic, but the effort which it cost him to recapture his professional manner was not lost upon Inspector Firth.

"Hypnotism?" the doctor inquired, with raised eyebrows.

"Not entirely, doctor," Lord Marcus replied, and that hard light had died from his eyes: he was again the prophetic dreamer. "Kyphi has singular properties, and a preparation of hashish, which I can procure only from Aleppo, more widely opens the inner eye. Personal magnetism, which is fully established between us, directs the quest of the released spirit."