"Yes."

The older man tapped impatiently on his chair-arm.

"And you? What did you say to her? You surely do not believe that Mrs.

Wells will die tomorrow night? You know these are only the morbid fancies of an hysterical woman, don't you?"

Leroy rose quietly and took down a volume from the bookcase.

"How we love to argue over the _names_ of things!" he answered gravely.

"I don't care what you call the influence or obsession that threatens this lady. I ask, What do you propose to do about it? Do _you_ believe that Mrs. Wells will die tomorrow night? Do you?"

Owen moved uncomfortably on his chair, frowned, snapped his fingers softly and finally admitted that he did not know.

"Ah! Then is it your idea to wait without doing anything until tomorrow night comes, and see if Mrs. Wells really does die at half-past twelve, and then, if she does, as the Vallis woman died, to simply say: 'It's very strange, it's too bad!' and let it go at that? Is that your idea?

Will you take that responsibility?"

"No, certainly not. I don't mean to interfere with your plans. I told you I have left this matter entirely in your hands," answered the skeptic, his aggressiveness suddenly calmed.

"Very well. Take my word, doctor, fear is terribly destructive, it may cause death. Listen to this case, cited by a French psychologist." He turned over the pages. "Daughter of an English n.o.bleman, engaged to a man she loves, perfectly happy; but one night she is visited, or thinks she is, by her dead mother who says she will come for her daughter the next day at noon. The girl tells her father she is going to die. She reads her Bible, sings hymns to the accompaniment of a guitar, and just before noon, although apparently in excellent health, she asks to be helped to a large arm chair in her bedroom. At noon exactly she draws two or three gasping breaths and sinks back into her chair, dead. That shows what fear will do."

But his adversary was still unconvinced.

"What does that prove? Do you think you could have saved this young woman if you had been in charge of the case?"

"Perhaps. I hope to save Mrs. Wells."

"How?"

Leroy hesitated, frowned with a nervous squinting, as if he were trying to solve a baffling problem.

"How? I wish I could tell you, doctor, but you would not understand.

That is the sad part of my work, I am all alone."

His eyes burned somberly, then he spoke with intense feeling.

"Not one of you orthodox physicians will join me in my effort to save millions of unfortunates from the tragedy of our state hospitals. You won't lift a hand to help me. You all say there is nothing to be done.

What a wicked evasion of responsibility! Nothing to be done? I tell you there is everything to be done. Suppose you had a daughter or a sister or a wife who was suffering from such an affliction--how would you feel?

G.o.d grant you may never know how you would feel. Why do you doctors scoff at miracles when the Bible is full of them and we all live among them? What is life but an unceasing miracle? Tell me how you move your finger except by a miracle? What is vision? What is death? How do you _know_ that spirits of the departed, good and bad, do not come back to help us--or to harm us? Many great men believe this and always have.

Many fine women know that this is true. Mrs. Walters has actually _seen_ an evil spirit hovering about a girl who was called insane. How do you know that insanity is not caused by evil possession?"

"Hold on! I can't answer all those questions," laughed Owen and now his manner changed quite charmingly as he made an _amende honorable_. "I'm a stubborn old fool, doctor. I ought to have had more sense than to get into this argument. What I care about is to have this dear lady restored to health and happiness. There!" He held out his hand. "Forgive me! The more miracles you can work for her cure, the better I shall like it."

At this Leroy relented in his turn.

"Dr. Owen, I will not conceal from you that Mrs. Wells is in great peril. I have no more doubt that she will die tomorrow night, unless she consents to do something that I have already indicated to her as necessary, than I have of your presence in this room."

"Extraordinary! Do you really mean that? What is this thing? Is it a definite thing, or is it some--some spiritual thing?"

Dr. Leroy sighed and shook his head.

"It's hard for you to believe, isn't it? I suppose you want me to give Mrs. Wells a dose of medicine or put a hot water bag at her feet. No, doctor, it's much more difficult than that."

The veteran pondered this in puzzled exasperation.

"If Mrs. Wells does this definite thing that you have told her to do, will she be saved?"

"Yes, I think so," Leroy spoke confidently.

There came a knock at the office door, but both men were so absorbed in their conversation that they paid no attention to it.

"Is there any doubt about her doing this definite thing that will save her?"

"That's the trouble, she fights against doing it with all her strength.

She says she cannot do it. _But I tell her she must do it!_"

The knock sounded sharper. An attendant had come with a message from Seraphine asking Dr. Leroy to come to her at once. She was upstairs in Mrs. Wells' sitting-room. Something serious had happened.

"Tell Mrs. Walters that I will be right up," he said. "You had better wait here, doctor." Leroy glanced at his watch. "It's half-past nine. We have three hours."

CHAPTER XVI

IRRESPONSIBLE HANDS

Dr. Leroy found Mrs. Walters in the attractive sitting-room, brightened by flowers (most of them sent by Christopher) that had been set apart for Penelope. The medium, usually so serene, was pale and agitated and had evidently been repairing some recent disorder of her hair and dress.

"She is asleep, doctor," panted Seraphine, and she pointed to the closed door of the bedroom. "We have had quite a bad time."

Then Seraphine told the doctor what had happened. She and Penelope had spent the evening pleasantly, sewing and chatting, and Mrs. Wells had seemed her old joyous self, free from fears and agitations. She listened with touching confidence when the medium a.s.sured her that her mother's exalted spirit was trying to help her. And she promised to bear in mind Dr. Leroy's injunction that, just before composing herself to sleep, she must hold the thought strongly that she was G.o.d's child, guarded from all evil by the power of G.o.d's love. Also she would search into her heart to find the obstacle that prevented her mother from coming closer to her.

About nine o'clock Penelope said she was sleepy and would lie down to rest, at which Seraphine rejoiced, hoping this might indicate a break in the spell of fear that had kept Mrs. Wells in exhausting suspense.

Perhaps this was an answer to their prayers. She a.s.sisted the patient, lovingly and encouragingly, to prepare herself for the night and at half-past nine left her in bed with the light extinguished and the door leading into the sitting-room open, so that she could hear the slightest call.

About twenty minutes later, as Seraphine sat meditating, her attention was attracted by a sound from the bedroom and, looking through the door, she was surprised to see Mrs. Wells sitting up in bed and writing rapidly on a large pad from which she tore sheets now and then, letting these fall to the floor. So dim was the bedroom light that it was impossible for Penelope to see her penciled writing, nor did she even glance at the words, but held her eyes fixed in a far-away stare, as if she were guided by some distant voice or vision. After a time, Penelope ceased writing and sank back in slumber upon her pillow, allowing the pad to fall by her side.

"Automatic writing," nodded the psychologist.

"Yes. I entered the bedroom softly and picked up the sheets. There are two communications, one in a large scrawl written by a woman--I believe, it is Penelope's mother. The other is in a small regular hand with quick powerful strokes, evidently a man's writing. There! You see the handwriting is quite different from Penelope's."

Leroy studied the sheets in silence.

"Have you read these messages?"

"I read one of them, doctor, the one from Penelope's mother--it is full of love and wisdom--and I was just beginning the other when a terrible thing happened. That is why I sent for you. I was sitting in this rocking chair with my back turned to the bedroom door, absorbed in reading this message, when suddenly--"

"Wait! Let me read it first. h.e.l.lo! It's for Captain Herrick."