Jack drew in a long breath; his heart was beating painfully. He felt as if he stood on the brink of a fathomless abyss, from the depths of which things unimagined were to arise. The woman took his hand and led him to a large cabinet on the left. Her touch sent through him a strong vibration, which seemed to calm his mind and fortify his resolution. The cabinet had folding doors; she touched the knob, and they opened wide. The interior was lined with blue satin, and was illuminated with a white light. The figure of a young woman lay there, apparently deep asleep. Her hair flowed beside her like a black river. On her left breast glimmered faintly a blue star: it flickered like a flame.
At the sight, Jack stiffened and trembled. His grasp tightened upon Mary Faust’s hand. The serene, cool pressure of her fingers steadied him. “Miriam—here!” he uttered in a husky whisper.
“A part of her,” rejoined Mary Faust quietly. “The garment she wears on this earth. Miriam is absent. The flickering of that star is the assurance that she lives.”
“Where is she, then?” demanded Jack, with dry lips.
“She is on the planet Saturn,” replied Mary Faust.
CHAPTER V
“I’M GOING”
THESE astounding words were so composedly and confidently spoken as to make incredulity clash against conviction in a bewildering battle. Jack’s knees relaxed, and there was a prickly sensation over his scalp.
“Sattum!” muttered Jim. “Must be in Jersey. I never heard of it—not me!”
“Things more startling have become commonplace by use,” remarked the woman. She was about to say more, but the entrance of Terence Mayne, accompanied by Sam Paladin, interrupted her. She closed the cabinet and moved forward to receive them.
The father was too much agitated and exhausted to express himself conventionally; but the appeal of his eyes was poignant and pathetic. Sam Paladin, as always, was master of himself, and he greeted Mary Faust with urbane courtesy.