"It was--by the fortune-teller I asked, Mr. Gebb; and sure enough the prediction came true, though, as a rule, I don't believe in such rubbish; still it was queer she should die with the ace of spades in her lap."
"A fortune-teller was with her on the night she was killed," said Gebb, after a pause.
"How do you know, sir?" questioned Mrs. Presk, eagerly.
"Because the cards were laid out, and the death-card was in the lap of the corpse. Now I believe that this man---- By the way," said Gebb, breaking away from his original speech, "did Miss Ligram smoke?"
"Not to my knowledge," rejoined Mrs. Presk, promptly. "She was a lady in her habits. Some of 'em was queer, but they were all genteel; indeed they were."
"It's not out of keeping with well-bred habits for a lady to smoke," corrected the detective, mildly. "Many ladies do nowadays. But as--according to you--Miss Ligram did not smoke herself, it is probable that her visitor was a man. I found the stump of a cigarette near the chair. When he got behind it to strangle her----"
"To strangle her!" repeated Mrs. Presk, horrified "Do you think this fortune-teller killed her?"
"Yes, I do. I believe firmly that, attracted by her diamonds, he verified his own prediction, and murdered her in the most cold-blooded fashion."
"Impossible, Mr. Gebb. He was a friend of hers!"
"Ah! you know the man!" cried Gebb, pouncing down on this admission.