The Afternoon of Tuesday

Mme. Dauvray and Celia found Adele Rossignol, to give Adele Tace
the name which she assumed, waiting for them impatiently in the
garden of an hotel at Annecy, on the Promenade du Paquier. She was
a tall, lithe woman, and she was dressed, by the purse and wish of
Helene Vauquier, in a robe and a long coat of sapphire velvet,
which toned down the coarseness of her good looks and lent
something of elegance to her figure.

"So it is mademoiselle," Adele began, with a smile of raillery,
"who is so remarkably clever."

"Clever?" answered Celia, looking straight at Adele, as though
through her she saw mysteries beyond. She took up her part at
once. Since for the last time it had got to be played, there must
be no fault in the playing. For her own sake, for the sake of Mme.
Dauvray's happiness, she must carry it off to-night with success.
The suspicions of Adele Rossignol must obtain no verification. She
spoke in a quiet and most serious voice. "Under spirit-control no
one is clever. One does the bidding of the spirit which controls."

"Perfectly," said Adele in a malicious tone. "I only hope you will
see to it, mademoiselle, that some amusing spirits control you
this evening and appear before us."

"I am only the living gate by which the spirit forms pass from the
realm of mind into the world of matter," Celia replied.

"Quite so," said Adele comfortably. "Now let us be sensible and
dine. We can amuse ourselves with mademoiselle's rigmaroles
afterwards."