“Yes, it is damp; but you know I am very strong and damp will not hurt me.  For the rest you need not be afraid, Mr. Quatermain.  I did not lose my mind.  It was taken from me by some power and sent to live elsewhere.  Now it has been given back and I do not think it will be taken again in that way.”

“Of course it won’t,” I exclaimed confidently.  “Whoever dreamed of such a thing?”

“You did,” she answered, looking me in the eyes.  “Now before we go I want to say one more thing.  Harut and the head priestess have made me a present.  They have given me a box full of that herb they called tobacco, but of which I have discovered the real name is Taduki.  It is the same that they burned in the bowl when you and I saw visions at Ragnall Castle, which visions, Mr. Quatermain, by another of your coincidences, have since been translated into facts.”

“I know.  We saw you breathe that smoke again as priestess when you uttered the prophecy as Oracle of the Child at the Feast of the First-fruits.  But what are you going to do with this stuff, Lady Ragnall?  I think you have had enough of visions just at present.”

“So do I, though to tell you the truth I like them.  I am going to keep it and do nothing—­as yet.  Still, I want you always to remember one thing—­don’t laugh at me”—­here again she looked me in the eyes—­“that there is a time coming, some way off I think, when I and you—­no one else, Mr. Quatermain—­will breathe that smoke again together and see strange things.”

“No, no!” I replied, “I have given up tobacco of the Kendah variety; it is too strong for me.”

“Yes, yes!” she said, “for something that is stronger than the Kendah tobacco will make you do it—­when I wish.”

“Did Harut tell you that, Lady Ragnall?”

“I don’t know,” she answered confusedly.  “I think the Ivory Child told me; it used to talk to me often.  You know that Child isn’t really destroyed.  Like my reason that seemed to be lost, it has only gone backwards or forwards where you and I shall see it again.  You and I and no others—­unless it be the little yellow man.  I repeat that I do not know when that will be.  Perhaps it is written in those rolls of papyrus, which they have given me also, because they said they belonged to me who am ‘the first priestess and the last.’  They told me, however, or perhaps,” she added, passing her hand across her forehead, “it was the Child who told me, that I was not to attempt to read them or have them read, until after a great change in my life.  What the change will be I do not know.”

“And had better not inquire, Lady Ragnall, since in this world most changes are for the worse.”

“I agree, and shall not inquire.  Now I have spoken to you like this because I felt that I must do so.  Also I want to thank you for all you have done for me and George.  Probably we shall not talk in such a way again; as I am situated the opportunity will be lacking, even if the wish is present.  So once more I thank you from my heart.  Until we meet again—­I mean really meet—­good-bye,” and she held her right hand to me in such a fashion that I knew she meant me to kiss it.