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 God! 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?"

"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 nobleman, 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 yo