oment by his picturesque
account of a common, not even a discreditable, fact. He may himself have
played with the idea, but surely he cannot have been serious."

"And your own experience, and Abel Felton's and mine--can they, too, be
dismissed with a shrug of the shoulder?"

"But, come to think of it, the whole theory seems absurd. It is
unscientific. It is not even a case of mesmerism. If he had said that he
hypnotised his victims, the matter would assume a totally different
aspect. I admit that something is wrong somewhere, and that the home of
Reginald Clarke is no healthful abode for me. But you must also remember
that probably we are both unstrung to the point of hysteria."

But to Ethel his words carried no conviction.

"You are still under his spell," she cried, anxiously.

A little shaken in his confidence, Ernest resumed: "Reginald is utterly
incapable of such an action, even granting that he possessed the
terrible power of which you speak. A man of his splendid resources, a
literary Midas at whose very touch every word turns into gold, is under
no necessity to prey on the thoughts of others. Circumstances, I admit,
are suspicious. But in the light of common day this fanciful theory
shrivels into nothing. Any court of law would reject our evidence as
madness. It is too utterly fantastic, utterly alien to any human
experience."

"Is it though?" Ethel replied with peculiar intonation.

"Why, what do you mean?"

"Surely," she answered, "you must know that in the legends of every
nation we read of men and women who were called vampires. They are
beings, not always wholly evil, whom every night some mysterious impulse
leads to steal into unguarded bedchambers, to suck the blood of the
sleepers and then, having waxed strong on the life of their victims,
cautiously to retreat. Thence comes it that their lips are very red. It
is even said that they can find no rest in the grave, but return to
their former haunts long after they are believed to be dead. Those whom
they visit, however, pine away for no apparent reason. The physicians
shake their wise heads and speak of consumption. But sometimes, ancient
chronicles assure us, the people's suspicions were aroused, and under
the leadership of a good priest they went in solemn procession to the
graves of the persons suspected. And on opening the tombs it was found
that their coffins had rotted away and the flowers in their hair were
black. But their bodies were whi