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 the thing with Selby and Kent—and you and me."

I thought, not of the mechanism of the thing, but of the effigy—the likeness of the girl, Helen Lacey. What did it mean that he so used her effigy? What was she in this affair?

Voices floated to us through the open windows; the clink of glass and china and silver told me that the table was laid. I heard Bane's voice, not hers; but Bane's tone told me that she was there; and I went to the window and saw her.

A servant knocked and entered. "Luncheon will be served at once, sirs," he announced.

"Put on this other suit," Pete urged me, when the man was gone. "We might as well both be presentable. I don't need to be the seventh son of a seventh son to hint to you that neither of us are likely to leave this place except by special permission. Hurry up. Let's not keep luncheon waiting. I'll say one thing for our host," Pete was looking out of the window. "He's not superstitious. He's having thirteen at his table."