"Every word of it," said Vane.
"If the chance to penetrate another's soul came to you, would you take it?"
"At once."
Moncreith laughed aloud. "Where are we?" he said, "in Aladdin's cave? What rubbish!" And he shook himself, as if to disturb a bad dream. He was on the point of reaching for his hat, when he saw the face of the girl in the mirror once more; the sight of it stayed him. He smiled to himself, and waited for the curious conversation between Vane and the stranger to continue.
"My name," the stranger was observing, taking a card from an etui, "may possibly be known to you?"
Vane bent his head to the table, read, and looked at the white-haired man with a quick access of interest.
"I am honored," he said. "My name is Orson Vane."
"Oh," said the other, "I knew that. I do not study the human interest in mere theory; I delight in the tangible. That is why I presume upon you"—he waved his hand gracefully—"thus."
"You must join us," said Vane; "there is plenty of room at this table."
"No; I must—if your friend will pardon me—see you alone. Will you come to my place?"