From this slip of cardboard lying upon Rohscheimer's famous oval table emanated rays—unseen, but cogent. The magnetic words "Séverac Bablon" seemed to glow upon the walls, as of old those other words had glowed upon a Babylonian wall.
There were those present to whom the line "Who steals my purse steals trash" appealed, as the silliest ever written. And it was at the purses of these that the blow would be struck—id est, at the most vital and fonder part of their beings.
"That card"—Julius Rohscheimer moistened his lips—"can't have dropped from the ceiling!"
But he looked upward as he spoke; and it was evident that he credited Séverac Bablon with the powers of an Indian fakir.
"It would appear," said Antony Elschild, "that a phantom hand appeared in our midst!"
The incident was eerie; a thousand times more so in that it was associated with Séverac Bablon. Rohscheimer gave orders that the outer door was on no account to be opened, until the house had been thoroughly searched. He himself headed the search party—whilst Mrs. Rohscheimer remained with the guests.
All search proving futile, Rohscheimer returned and learnt that a new discovery had been made. He was met outside the dining-room door by Baron Hague.
"Rohscheimer!" cried the latter, "my name on that card, it is underlined in red ink!"
Rohscheimer's rejoinder was dramatic.
"The diamonds!" he whispered.