Leroy thought a moment, then he spoke with a quiet impressiveness that was not lost upon Dr. Owen.

"There is evidence that would probably convince any fair-minded person who was willing to give to the investigation time enough to get results.

The X-rays were not discovered in a day, were they? Suppose I tell you how I got into this occult field--would that interest you?"

"Very much."

"Take that other chair--make yourself comfortable--that's better. It began accidentally with certain persistent hallucinations, as I used to call them, in a patient of mine, a Southern lady whom I attended when I was a regular pract.i.tioner like yourself. These hallucinations worried me, and, being an open-minded man, I found it impossible to dismiss them as of trivial importance; so I began an investigation that led me--well, it led me very far, it is still leading me, for I am scarcely over the threshold of that mysterious region where spirit phenomena occur. I resolved to know _for myself_ whether these things are true."

"And you think they are true?"

"I know they are true," was the grave reply.

Dr. Owen listened attentively while Leroy described his first groping efforts to determine whether or not he personally possessed psychic powers. He began with regular periods of mental concentration, an opening of the soul, as it were, to spirit impressions; he would sit alone, in a state of meditative receptiveness for ten or fifteen minutes every day, and later several times a day, waiting for something to happen--he did not know what.

Day after day the psychologist persisted in this singular experiment and, soon, he began to see small blue figures, irregularly shaped, that moved rapidly about the room and cast no shadows. Some of these blue figures were luminous, and among them were occasional luminous white figures. As weeks pa.s.sed and his efforts continued, there came a noticeable increase in the number of these moving shapes until, when the doctor desired it, he could make them swarm everywhere, over the walls, the pictures, the bookcases.

"Wait!" interrupted Owen. "Do you see these blue shapes or luminous figures at all times? Do you see them now?"

"No. I only see them when I desire to see them--when I prepare myself to use them--for a case."

Leroy told how the phenomena continued to increase in frequency and in intensity, how gradually he felt an unmistakable sense of power growing in himself, as if he had somehow tapped a vast source of energy, a kind of spiritual trolley-line, and he was now impelled to use this power. He made his first trial on a poor man who had suffered for years from headaches that seemed incurable.

"Stretch out on that reclining chair, close your eyes, don't think of anything," ordered the experimenter. Then he laid his hands on the man's forehead and concentrated his mind in the psychic way he had adopted.

Almost immediately the blue shapes appeared in great numbers, and began to pour themselves in fine, pulsing streams, like a purplish mist, over the patient's brow and head and shoulders, over his whole body until he was completely enveloped in them, laved by them, penetrated by them.

"That was a crude beginning," Leroy went on, "but it drove away those obstinate headaches for three months; then a second laying on of hands completed the cure. After that, as months pa.s.sed, other persons were cured in the same way--especially nervous cases. Whatever these blue streams are, they benefit the patient in most cases. One woman told me, during a treatment, that _she saw blue shapes about her_!"

"You hypnotized her," declared Owen.

"Possibly. I did not intend to."

"What I want to know is, have you ever treated a case like this one of Mrs. Wells?"

"Yes, I treated a young woman in Mrs. Wells' profession, a trained nurse. She came of good family and was very intelligent, but she was driven toward certain forms of depravity. It was pretty bad. All efforts to change her had failed and, at last, her mother in desperation decided to try psychic treatment."

"And you cured her?"

"Yes. She is now doing useful work in Washington for the Red Cross."

"How did you cure her--it wasn't simply by the laying on of hands, was it?"

"No. I recognize the necessity of getting at the forgotten or concealed causes of these abnormalities, just as Freud does in his psycho-a.n.a.lysis, but, instead of following the uncertain trail of dreams, I conceived the idea of discovering the truth by clairvoyant revelation. I engaged Mrs. Seraphine Walters to a.s.sist me in my work.

She has astonishing psychic gifts and--" he hesitated.

"Yes?"

"In her entranced condition, Mrs. Walters discovered things about this young woman, painful things that had been hidden for years and--well, I was able to relieve her of her fears and check her waywardness," he concluded abruptly.

"But the details? Tell me more about this case. What were the painful things that Mrs. Walters discovered?"

Leroy shook his head.

"What's the use? I can state the result of my treatment, but if I go into details, if I try to make you understand the cause of this young woman's evil desires and how I overcame them--" he paused, his eyes shining with an inspired light. "Don't you see, doctor, you and I do not speak the same language. You are always in opposition. You have no faith. It's your narrow training."

"Narrow?" snorted the other.

"Yes, you scientists are childishly narrow. You believe in atoms and ions and electrons that you have never seen and never will see, but if anyone mentions secrets of the soul that control human happiness, you laugh or sneer."

"Not necessarily. I suppose you refer to your theory of possession by evil spirits. If you could only furnish any evidence--"

"It isn't my theory. It's as old as Christianity, it's a part of Christianity. As to evidence, my dear sir, you are blind to evidence.

The young lady I speak of was despaired of by everybody, she was on her way to an insane asylum, two alienists had declared her case hopeless, yet, thanks to psychic treatment, she was restored to health and happiness. Does that impress you? Not at all if you call it a coincidence. And if I am fortunate enough to cure Mrs. Wells, whom you have failed to cure, you will call that a coincidence, too."

Dr. Owen tried to control his irritation, but his prejudices got the better of him.

"Of course I want to see Mrs. Wells cured, but--do you mean to tell me seriously that you believe she is possessed by an evil spirit?"

"I believe that some malignant influence is near her and able to control her--intermittently. How else do you account for the facts in her case?

Even Mrs. Wells believes this."

"That is because Seraphine put the notion in her head. It's unfortunate."

"No, she believes this because of the way her friend died. You know how she died?"

"Miss Vallis? She died suddenly, but the cause of her death is doubtful.

People die suddenly from all sorts of causes."

"Yes," answered Leroy with a significant tightening of the lips, "and one of the causes is fear. People die suddenly of fear, doctor."

"Referring to Mrs. Wells and her bad dreams?"

"Precisely. If you had seen her last night--after midnight--watching the clock with dark, furtive glances, watching, waiting, as the hands approached half past twelve, you would understand what fear can do to a woman. That is Mrs. Wells' worst symptom, she is afraid--not all the time but intermittently."

Owen leaned forward in concentrated attention.

"Why was she in such a state at half past twelve rather than at any other time?"

"Because the change in her takes place then, the change into her other personality."

"Fauvette? You saw her--in that personality?"

"Yes. I saw her. Besides, she told me about it in advance. She knows what is going to take place, but is powerless against it. Every night at exactly half past twelve there comes a violent period that lasts until one o'clock. Then she falls into a deep sleep, and a dream begins, always the same dream, a horrible dream that terrifies her and drains her life forces. She had this dream last night, she will have it again tonight, and again tomorrow night. _She believes that she will die tomorrow night, just as her friend died!_"

"Good G.o.d! What a pity!" exclaimed Owen. "Why does she think she is going to die tomorrow night?"

"Her Voices tell her so, and she believes them."

"She told you this?"