"I confess that I am not superstitious," said Shepworth thoughtfully.
"Occult powers have nothing to do with superstition," said Prelice in a calm and decisive way. "Everything is law, as I tell you, and when the law is known, certain things can be done. By means of the Sacred Herb, the spirit—that is the astral body—can part from the flesh and go where it will. When Madame Marie arrives at the Grange, I shall make her help me in that way. She will be quite willing, if only to thwart Jadby. But there," Prelice again brushed away his words with a gesture, "I have explained enough to a sceptic such as you are. Let us talk of other matters. What do you intend to do about Constance?"
Shepworth coloured, and looked out of the window at the landscape, which was flying past, dream-fashion. "I do not like to discuss Mrs. Rover even to you, Prelice," he said stiffly.
"Ned," answered his friend, "don't be a fool If you had confided in me when we first met in Geddy's Restaurant a great deal of trouble might have been avoided. Besides, you told Mona, why should you not tell me?" And Prelice waited for a reply.
"I only told Mona that I loved Constance," said Shepworth, after an uneasy pause; "naturally I didn't like to say too much."
"I quite understand. But the fact remains that you love Constance, and that Constance loves you. She is a married woman."
"Unfortunately for me," said Shepworth bitterly.
"And unfortunately for her also, seeing that she is tied to a man who hates her more than he loves her. Rover's pride is wounded, Ned, by his wife's preference for you, and he'll make trouble."
"I see that, and I wish to avoid trouble for Constance's sake. But what can I do?"
"You can move from Alexander Mansions for one thing, and take a trip to the Colonies for another. Rover may die."