But the inward spirit of her was as a warrior clothed in steel,--she was afraid of nothing--least of all of any event or incident passing for "supernatural," knowing beyond all doubt that the most seeming miraculous circumstances are all the result of natural movement and transmutation.

There never had been anything surprising to her in the fact that light is a conveyor of sound; and that she was receiving a message by such means seemed no more extraordinary to her mind than receiving it by the accepted telephonic service.

Every word spoken she heard with the closest attention--until--as though a cloud had suddenly covered it,--the "Sound-Ray" vanished, and the Voice ceased.
She rose at once from her knees, alert and ready for action--her face was pale, her lips set, her eyes luminous.
"I must not hesitate"-- she said--"If I can save him I will!" She left the chapel and hurried home, where as soon as she reached her own private room she wrote to the Marchese Rivardi the following note, which was more than unpleasantly startling to him when he received it.
"I shall need you and Gaspard for a long journey in the 'White Eagle.' Prepare everything in the way of provisioning and other necessary details.

No time must be lost, and no expense need be spared.

We must start as quickly as possible." This message written, sealed and dispatched by one of her servants to the Marchese's villa, she sat for some moments lost in thought, wistfully looking out on her flower-filled gardens and the shimmering blue of the Mediterranean beyond.
"I may be too late!" she said, speaking aloud to herself--"But I will take the risk! He will not care--no!--a man like that cares for nothing but himself.