Yet it was really very strange that Madame Cagliostra had known, or
rather had divined, that she possessed a necklace by which she laid great
store. But wasn't there such a thing as telepathy? Isn't it supposed by
some people that fortune-tellers simply see into the minds of those who
come to them, and then arrange what they see there according to their
fancy?
That, of course, would entirely account for all that the fortune-teller
had said about her pearls.
Sylvia always felt a little uncomfortable when her pearls were not lying
round her pretty neck. The first time she had left them in the hotel
bureau, at her new friend's request, was when they had been together to
some place of amusement at night, and she had felt quite miserable, quite
lost without them. She had even caught herself wondering whether M.
Girard was perfectly honest, whether she could trust him not to have her
dear pearls changed by some clever jeweller, though, to be sure, she felt
she would have known her string of pearls anywhere!
* * * * *
But what was this that was going on between the other two?
Madame Cagliostra dealt out the pack of cards in a slow, deliberate
fashion--and then she uttered a kind of low hoarse cry, and mixed the
cards all together, hurriedly.
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