Taking however all the facts of the case as given above to be true (and there is no reason to suppose that they are not) the only explanation that could be given and in fact that was given by some of the sceptical minds of Agra at that time was as follows:--

"Smith was dead. Jones was a very old friend of his. He was rather seriously affected. He must have, in an unconscious state of mind like a somnambulist, carried the dead body of Smith to his own house without being detected in the act. Then his own fevered imagination endowed Smith with the faculty of speech, dead though the latter was; and in a moment of--well--call it temporary insanity, if you please--he inflicted the wound on the forehead of Smith's dead body."

This was the only plausible explanation that could be given of the affair; but regard being had to the fact that Smith's dead body was lying in an upper storey of the house and that there was a number of servants between the death chamber and the main entrance to the house, the act of removing the dead body without their knowing it was a difficult task, nay utterly impracticable.

Over and above this it was not feasible to carry away even at night, the dead body along the road, which is a well frequented thoroughfare, without being observed by anybody.

Then there is the third fact that Jones was really not such a strong person that he could carry alone Smith's body that distance with ease.

Smith's dead body as recovered in Jones' house had bare feet; whether there was any dust on the feet, had not been observed by anybody; otherwise some light might have been thrown on this apparently miraculous incident.

WHAT THE PROFESSOR SAW.

This story is not so painful as the one ent.i.tled "_What Uncle Saw_." How we wish that uncle had seen something else, but all the same how glad we are that uncle did not see what the professor saw. The professor is an M.A. of the University of Calcutta, in Chemistry, and is a Lecturer in a big college. This, of course, I only mention to show that this is not the invention of a foolish person.

I shall now tell the story as I heard it from the professor.

"I was a professor of chemistry in a Calcutta college in the year 18--.

One morning I received a letter from home informing me that my eldest brother was ill. It was a case of fever due to cold. Of course, a man does sometimes catch cold and get fever too. There was nothing extraordinary about that.

"In the evening I did not receive any further news. This meant that my brother was better, because in any other case they would have written.

"A number of friends came to my diggings in the evening and invited me to join their party then going to a theatre. They had reserved some seat but one of the party for whom a seat had been reserved was unavoidably detained and hence a vacant seat. The news of my brother's illness had made me a little sad, the theatre, I thought, would cheer me up. So I joined.

"We left the theatre at about one in the morning. Coming to my house along the now deserted but well-lighted "College Street" of Calcutta I saw from a distance a tall man walking to and fro on the pavement in front of the Senate Hall. When I approached nearer I found that it was my brother of whose illness I had heard in the morning. I was surprised.

"'What are you doing here--brother.' I asked.

"'I came to tell you something.'

"'But you were ill--I heard this morning--by what train did you come?' I asked.

"'I did not come by train--never mind--I went to your "Basa" (lodgings) and found you were out--gone to the theatre, so I waited for you here as I thought you would prefer walking home instead of taking a hackney carriage--'

"'Very fortunate I did not take one--'

"'In that case I would have seen you at your quarters.'

"'Then come along with me--' I said.

"'No' he said 'I shall stay where I am--what I have come to tell you is this, that after I am gone you will take care of the mother and see that she has everything she wants--'

"'But where are you going--' I asked puzzled.

"'Never mind where I am going--but will you promise--'

"'Promise what--?' I asked.

"'That you will see that the mother has everything she wants.'

"'Certainly--but where on earth are you going--' I asked again.

"'I can depend upon your promise then' he said and vanished.

"He vanished mysteriously. In what direction he went I could not say.

There was no bye-lane near. It was a very well-lighted part of the city. He vanished into the thin air. I rubbed my eyes and looked round.

"A policeman was coming along. He was about 50 feet away.

"I inquired him if he had seen the gentleman who was talking to me.

"'Did you see the other gentleman, officer?' I asked.

"'Yes' he said looking around 'there were two of you--where is the other--has he robbed you of all you had--these pickpockets have a mysterious way of disappearing--'

"'He was my brother' I said 'and no pickpocket.'

"The policeman looked puzzled too.

"I shouted aloud calling my brother by name but received no reply. I took out my gold watch. It was half past one. I walked home at a brisk pace.

"At home I was informed by the servant that my brother had come to look for me an hour ago but on being informed that I was out, had gone away.

"Whenever he came to Calcutta from the suburbs he put up with a friend of his instead of with me. So I decided to look him up at his friend's house in the morning. But I was not destined to carry out that plan.

"Early the next morning I received a telegram that my brother was dead.

The telegram had been sent at 1.20 A.M. He must have died an hour before. Well--there it was.

"I had seen him and so had the policeman. The servant had seen him too.

There could be no mistake about that.

"I took an early train and reached my suburban home at 10 A.M. I was informed that my brother had died at midnight. But I had seen him at about half past one and the servant had seen him at about 12.30. I did not tell anybody anything at that time. But I did so afterwards. I was not dreaming--because the conversation we had was a pretty long one. The servant and the police constable could not have been mistaken either.

But the mystery remains."

This was the exact story of the professor. Here is something else to the point.

Suicidal Telepathy.

A remarkable case of what may be called suicidal telepathy has occurred near Geneva. Mme. Simon, a Swiss widow aged fifty, had been greatly distressed on account of the removal of her sister, who was five years younger, to a hospital. On Monday afternoon a number of persons who had ascended the Saleve, 4299 feet high, by the funicular railway, were horrified to see a woman walk out on to a ledge overlooking a sheer precipice of three hundred feet, and, after carefully wrapping a shawl round her head and face jump into s.p.a.ce. The woman was Mme. Simon, says the _Times of India_, and she was found on the cliffs below in a mangled condition.

At the same time Mme. Simon's sister, who had not seen or communicated with the former for a week, became hysterical saying her sister was dead and that she did not want to survive her. During the temporary absence of the nurse the woman got out of her bed--opened the window and jumped into the road from the first floor. She is seriously injured and her recovery is doubtful.