"Dr. Owen will not believe you."

"He _will_ believe me."

"No!" declared Seraphine dreamily. "There are greater powers than you fighting for Penelope."

CHAPTER XII

X K C

We come now to what has been regarded by some authorities as the most remarkable feature in the case of Penelope Wells, a development almost without parallel in the records of abnormal psychology. All books on this subject record instances of jealousy or hostility between two recurring personalities in the same individual. A woman in one personality writes a letter that humiliates her in another personality.

A little girl eats a certain article of food while in one personality simply because she knows that her other personality hates that particular food. And so on. It almost never occurs, however, that an evil personality will commit an act or a crime that is abhorrent to the individual's fundamental nature. Neither through hypnotism nor through any manifestation of a dual nature will a person become a thief or a murderer unless there is really in that person a latent tendency towards stealing or killing. There is always some germ of Mr. Hyde's bloodthirstiness in the benevolence of Dr. Jekyll.

But Penelope Wells, under the domination of her Fauvette personality, now entered upon a course that was certain to bring disgrace and sorrow upon a man she loved with all her heart, a man for whom she had risked her life on the battle field. Here is one of those mysteries that will not be cleared up until we better understand these strange and distressing phenomena of the sick brain or the sick soul.

In presenting this development it must be mentioned that Dr. William Owen was not only a specialist on nervous diseases but a chemist of wide reputation in the field of laboratory investigation. For a year and a half preceding the end of the war he had held a major's commission in the army and had spent much time in a government research laboratory, studying poison gases.

In August, 1918, he had discovered a toxic product of extraordinary virulence, not a gas, but a tasteless and odorless liquid containing harmful bacteria. These bacteria showed great resistance against heat and cold and were able to propagate and disseminate themselves with incredible rapidity through living creatures, rats, earth worms, birds, cattle, dogs, fleas, that might feed upon them or come in contact with them. The deadliness of this product was so great, as appeared from laboratory tests, that it was believed all human life might be exterminated in a region intensively inoculated (from airplanes or guns) with the liquid. This was only a possibility, but it was an enormously important possibility.

A report on this formidable discovery had been prepared by Dr. Owen for the Washington authorities with such extreme secrecy that the chemical formula for the liquid had been indicated simply by the letters X K C, the product being referred to as X K C liquid. Moreover, the only person, except Dr. Owen, in possession of the full facts touching this discovery was Captain Herrick who had a.s.sisted the doctor in his investigations. Herrick had been cautioned to guard this secret as he would his life, since there was involved in it nothing less than the possibility of preventing future wars through the power of its potential terribleness.

The bearing of all this upon our narrative was presently made clear as the conflict developed between tortured Penelope and the psychic in Roberta Vallis' studio.

For some moments the two women eyed each other in hostile silence, which was broken presently by the sound of footsteps in the hall.

"Ah! Here comes your doctor!" mocked the fair creature on the divan.

"Now watch Fauvette!"

The door opened and Dr. Owen, followed by Herrick, both grave-faced, entered the apartment.

Christopher turned anxiously to Seraphine: "What has happened? Is she better?"

Mrs. Walters shook her head, but when the young officer looked at Penelope his fears were lessened, for she (was it from dissimulation or weariness?) gave no indication of her recent frenzy, but seemed to be resting peacefully against the cushions.

"Let's have a little more light here," said Dr. Owen, and he turned on the electrics. "I'm afraid you have overtaxed your strength, Mrs.

Wells."

Penelope answered gently with perfect self-possession: "I'm afraid I have, doctor, I'm sorry to give you so much trouble." And she smiled sweetly at Herrick.

The specialist drew up a chair and studied his patient thoughtfully.

There was an added austerity in his usual professional manner.

"Captain Herrick tells me that you made some rather strange remarks just now?" he said tentatively.

Mrs. Wells met him with a look of half amused understanding.

"Did I?" she answered carelessly, and as she spoke she took up a pencil and made formless scrawls on a sheet of paper. "I suppose he refers to my calling him a fool. It is a little unusual, isn't it?"

She laughed in a mirthless way.

"Why did you do it?"

"I haven't any idea."

"And you spoke unkindly to Seraphine? That isn't like you."

"No? How do you know what I am like?" she answered quickly, her hand still fidgeting with the pencil.

Dr. Owen observed her attentively and did not speak for some moments.

Seraphine and Christopher drew their chairs nearer, as if they knew that the tension of restraint was about to break.

"You must realize that you have been under a great strain, Mrs. Wells,"

resumed the doctor, "and you are tired--you are very tired."

Her answer came dreamily, absent-mindedly: "Yes, I am tired," and, as she spoke, Penelope's tragic eyes closed wearily. But her fingers still clutched the pencil and continued to move it over the white sheet.

"Look!" whispered Seraphine, "she is making letters upside down."

"That's queer!" nodded Owen. "She is writing backwards--from right to left. h.e.l.lo!" He started in surprise as he saw, on bending closer, that Penelope had covered the sheet with large printed letters--X--K--C, written over and over again.

Greatly disturbed, Dr. Owen roused his patient and questioned her about this; but she insisted that she had no idea what she had written or what the letters meant. A little later, however, she acknowledged that this was not true.

"What! You did know what you wrote?" the scientist demanded. His whole manner had changed. His eyes were cold and accusing. He was no longer a sympathetic physician tactful towards the whims of a pretty woman, but a major in the United States Army defending the interests of his country.

"This is a very serious matter, Mrs. Wells, please understand that. You told me just now that you did not know what you wrote on the sheet of paper?"

Penelope faced him scornfully. Her cheeks were flushed. Her bosom heaved.

"I said that, but it wasn't true. I lied to you. I did know what I wrote."

"You know what those letters mean?"

"Yes, I do!"

"What do they mean?"

"They mean some kind of poison stuff that you have made for the army."

"How do you know that?"

"He told me," she turned to Captain Herrick who had listened in dumb bewilderment.

"How can you say such a thing?" Chris protested.

"Because it's true," she flung the words at him defiantly.