Malcourt walked slowly over to where Shiela stood.
She shrank involuntarily away from him as he bent to pick up the pad which had fallen from her hands.
"There's nothing to be frightened about," he said, forcing a smile; and, holding the pad under the light, scanned it attentively.

His sister came over to him, asking if the letters made any sense.
He shook his head.
They studied it together, Shiela's fascinated gaze riveted on them both.
And she saw Lady Tressilvain's big eyes widen as she laid her pencil on a sequence; saw Malcourt's quick nod of surprised comprehension when she checked off a word, then another, another, another; and suddenly her face turned white to the lips, and she caught at her brother's arm, terrified.
"Will you keep quiet ?" he whispered fiercely, snatching the sheet from the pad and crumpling it into his palm.
Sister and brother faced each other; in his eyes leaped a flame infernal which seemed to hold her paralyzed for a moment; then, with a gesture, she swept him aside, and covering her eyes with her hands, sank into a chair.
"What a fool you are!" he said furiously, bending down beside her.

"It's in us both; you'll do it, too, when you are ready--if you have any sporting blood in you!" And, straightening up impatiently, his eyes fell on Shiela, and he shrugged his shoulders and smiled resignedly.
"It's nothing.

My sister's nerves are a bit upset....

After all, this parlour magic is a stupid mistake, because there's always somebody who takes it seriously.