“Perhaps I can save you by putting it in another form. Your father-in-law gave you to understand, did he not, that Wilfrid Blair met and quarreled with—with a certain person, and was killed in the encounter which followed?”
“How shall I ever free myself from the consciousness of my own part in it?” she shuddered. “Don’t—don’t speak of it again. I can’t bear it.”
“You won’t have to, very long,” Kent assured her. “Let us get back to the jewels. You would be willing to make a considerable sacrifice to recover them?”
“Anything!”
“Perhaps you’ve heard something of this man?”
Drawing a newspaper page from his pocket, Kent indicated an advertisement outlined in blue pencil. It was elaborately “displayed,” as follows:
Your Fate is Written in the Heavens
Consult The
Star-Master
Past, Present and Future are Open Books to His Mystic Game—Be Guided Aright in
Business, Love & Health
Thousands to Whom he has pointed Out the Way of the Stars Bless Him for His Aid.
Consultation by Appointment
Preston Jax
Suite 77 Mystic Block, 10 Royal Street
Mrs. Blair glanced at the announcement.
“Some of my friends have been to him,” she said. “For a time he was rather a fad.”
“But you haven’t ever consulted him, yourself?”