with silver clasps. He took it to the table near where his visitor sat and threw it open. The pages were parchment, written with beautiful medieval letters, with illuminated initials and many zodiacal diagrams. For some time he turned the leaves thoughtfully; then stopped to ask:
"Do you know the exact date of your grandfather's birth?"
Miss Merrington, unfortunately, did not. He asked, then, for her birthday, which she gave to the hour. Astro turned to another diagram, and taking a pencil, made a few computations.
"H'm. Under the sign Libra, with Mars and Saturn in the ascendant—a daughter of the Ninth House—the moon. Wait a moment. Let me see your palm."
She drew off her glove, and, not a little mystified, but still smiling as at a child's game, showed her hand. Astro gave it a glance, turned it over, doubled the knuckle of the third finger. Then he sat down, nodding his head.
"It's too absurd," he said. "One can't often strike a fact so definitely as this appears. If I'm not mistaken, the 'Luck of the Merringtons' is here in New York. It's—let's see," he looked at his diagram and figures again—"forty-seven, that's right. Violet, indigo, blue, green,—that's fourth,—yellow, orange, red,—that's seven. Green and red— Why, it must be an opal; that's the only stone that's both green and red. It's a fire opal, probably a Mexican gem, not the Austrian milky-blue stone. Curious, isn't it?"
"Yes," she drawled, "if it's true."
"Well, if you'll wait a moment, I may be able to find just where it is."
