down on his knees, and his dark alert head was outstretched toward the colonel, on whom he turned two blazing eyes. "Colonel Trevellian," he said in a voice like the rattling of paper, "you have persecuted Mrs. Burbank long enough! If you fancy you understand the art of hypnotic suggestion, I can show you that you're a fool as well as a cur. For her sake I consent to permit you to leave town without informing the major exactly what kind of a cad you are, but you'll have to leave quickly."
The colonel had already lost the most of his nerve; but he made a last attempt to bluster. "What do you mean, sir? I've done nothing at all, I assure you. You're quite mistaken. Why, the major is my best friend!"
"And do you not wish to supplant him as husband of your old sweetheart, Mrs. Burbank?"
"Of course not. It's absurd." The colonel's face was ashen now.
"And you did not suggest, after hypnotizing her and getting her somewhat under your influence, that she—"
The man stared hard at Astro, and his jaw had dropped. "That she—what?" He almost whispered it.
Astro touched the phonograph. "Kellem, kellem, kell—" it ground out raucously.
The colonel stared first at the mechanism, then at the palmist. He dropped a step back, undecided, then, turning suddenly, bolted out of the room.
Astro dropped again into his chair, folded his arms, and drew a long breath.
The hansom drew up at number 234. A woman got out, paid the driver, and looked curiously at the front
