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“I believe, Mrs. Ballou, that I had the honor of sitting beside you,” remarked Tarneverro, and took the chair at her right.

“So you did,” Rita agreed. “And Mr. Jaynes was on the other side.” She indicated the chair at her left—the portentous chair before which were tiny scratches such as might have been made by a broken pin protruding slightly from the heel of a shoe.

“I fancy we have it now,” smiled Jaynes innocently, and sat down.

There was a moment’s silence. “You are seated just as you were last night?” Chan inquired slowly.

“We are not,” said Huntley Van Horn suddenly.

“Something is wrong?” Charlie asked.

“It is. Mr. Tarneverro is at my left now, but last night Mr. Jaynes was in that position.”

“Why, of course,” Rita Ballou cried. She turned to Tarneverro. “You and Mr. Jaynes have exchanged places.”

“Perhaps we have,” the fortune-teller answered amiably. He rose. Jaynes also got up, and took the chair at Rita’s right. After a moment’s hesitation, Tarneverro dropped into the fateful chair. “I fancy we're all set now,” he remarked calmly. “Jessop, you may serve the soup.”

Charlie and the Chief exchanged a look, and moved away from the neighborhood of the table. They went into the hall.

“Tarneverro,” said the Chief softly. “I knew it. Take a look at his shoes——”

But Chan stubbornly shook his head. “Something is very wrong here,” he insisted.

“Wrong, nonsense! What’s got into you, anyhow, Charlie?”