Sclamowsky moved forward about a pace, beckoned with his hand, and called, not loudly but distinctly, “Anna!”

Without a moment’s hesitation the girl, still blindfolded, rose, walked swiftly down the steps which led from the stage to the floor of the hall, and with startling exactness reproduced Mr. Danby’s actions.  In and out through the benches she passed amid a silence of breathless interest, touching each person in exactly the same spot as Mr. Danby had done a few minutes previously.

I saw Aunt Phoebe drawing herself up rigidly as Anna Sclamowsky came towards our bench and, amid deafening applause, laid her finger upon the Anstruther diamonds.  The clapping and noise produced no effect upon the girl.  She stood motionless as though she had been a statue, her hand still upon the necklace.

Whether Aunt Phoebe was aggravated by the complete success of the experiment or annoyed at having been obliged to take so prominent a part in it, I do not know, but she certainly was a good deal out of temper; for when Sclamowsky made his way to where his daughter was standing, she said, in tones of icy disapproval, which must have been audible for a long way down the room—­

“A very clever piece of imposture, sir.”

The mesmerist’s face flushed and his eyes flashed angrily.  He, however, bowed low.

“There’s nothing so hard,” he said, “to overcome, madam, as prejudice.  I fear you have been inconvenienced by my daughter’s hand.  I will now release her—­and you.”

So saying, he placed his own hand for a moment over his daughter’s and breathed lightly on the girl’s face.  Instantly the muscles relaxed, her hand fell to her side, and I could hear her give a little shuddering sigh, apparently of relief.

I noticed, too, that, whether by design or accident Sclamowsky kept his hand for a moment longer on my aunt’s necklace, and as he took his finger away, I fancied that he looked at her fixedly for a second, and muttered something either to himself or her, the meaning of which I could not catch.

“What did he say to you?” I asked, as Sclamowsky, after removing the bandage from his daughter’s eyes, assisted her to remount the stage.

Aunt Phoebe looked a little confused and dazed, and her hand went up to her necklace, as though to reassure herself of its safety.

“Say to me?” she repeated, rousing herself as though by an effort; “he said nothing to me.  But I think, Elizabeth, if it is the same to you, we will go home; the heat of the room has made me feel a little dizzy.”

We heard next day that we had missed the best part of the entertainment by leaving when we did, and that many and far more wonderful experiments were successfully attempted; but I had no time to waste in vain regrets for not having been present, for I was much taken up with Aunt Phoebe.

I was really anxious about her; she was so strangely unlike her calm, equable self.  All Saturday she was restless and irritable, wandering half way upstairs, and then as though she had forgotten what she wanted, returning to the drawing-room, where she set to work opening old cabinet drawers, looking under chairs and sofas, tumbling everything out of her work-box as if in search of something, and snubbing me for my pains when I offered to help her.