them in a manner which may annoy or incommode my fellow-creatures." "Your feeling does you honour," Sir Charles answered, with some acerbity. Then he whispered in my ear: "Confounded clever scoundrel, Sey; rather wish we hadn't brought him here." Seńor Herrera seemed intuitively to divine this wish, for he interposed, in a lighter and gayer tone-- "I will now show you a different and more interesting embodiment of occult power, for which we shall need a somewhat subdued arrangement of surrounding lights. Would you mind, seńor host--for I have purposely abstained from reading your name on the brain of any one present--would you mind my turning down this lamp just a little? ... So! That will do. Now, this one; and this one. Exactly! that's right." He poured a few grains of powder out of a packet into a saucer. "Next, a match, if you please. Thank you!" It burnt with a strange green light. He drew from his pocket a card, and produced a little ink-bottle. "Have you a pen?" he asked. I instantly brought one. He handed it to Sir Charles. "Oblige me," he said, "by writing your name there." And he indicated a place in the centre of the card, which had an embossed edge, with a small middle square of a different colour. Sir Charles has a natural disinclination to signing his name without knowing why. "What do you want with it?" he asked. (A millionaire's signature has so many uses.) "I want you to put the card in an envelope," the Seer replied, "and then to burn it. After that, I shall show you your own name written in letters of blood on my arm, in your own handwriting." Sir Charles took the pen. If the signature was to be burned as soon as finished, he didn't mind giving it. He wrote his name in his usual firm clear style--the writing of a man who knows his worth and is not afraid of drawing a cheque for five thousand. "Look at it long," the Seer said, from the other side of the room. He had not watched him write it. Sir Charles stared at it fixedly. The Seer was really beginning to produce an impression. "Now, put it in that envelope," the Seer exclaimed. Sir Charles, like a lamb, placed it as directed. The Seer strode forward. "Give me the envelope," he said. He took it in his hand, walked over towards the fireplace, and solemnly burnt it. "See--it crumbles into ashes," he cried. Then he came back to