“Madame will receive you, Mr. Carter,” she said, bowing.
Nick left his hat as before, and approached the inner room.
His recollections of it were not agreeable. The close atmosphere, the green light, the walls hung with mystical insignia, the purple-robed woman who had so baffled his usual keen reasoning, and the touch of whose hand lingered with him as when a person has touched the hand of a corpse—all had left upon him a disagreeable impression, as when one has meddled with things pertaining to the black arts.
He found Madame Victoria seated at the table, as before, looking more like a sorceress to him than ever, as he stepped gravely over the threshold.
The woman looked up from the card between her thumb and fingers, and Nick thought he detected a subtle light leap up from the depths of her brilliant eyes. It vanished so quickly that he could not feel sure of it, however, despite that he was now alert for the slightest betrayal that might be of significance to him.
Madame Victoria was the first to speak.
“Take a chair, sir,” said she, smiling a bit oddly. “Your card informs me that you are Detective Carter, of New York.”
“Yes, madame.”
“My maid said you desire a business interview with me.”
“If you please.”