he door and, from
behind the doctor's back, threw her lover a kiss, "you must tell him
not to overwork himself, as he's been doing lately."

"Well, Felix, what is it? What's the trouble?" said the little
physician kindly, as he sank back into the depths of his capacious
arm-chair.

But the architect was ill at ease. He sprang up from the chair where
he had just seated himself and began walking back and forth in the
narrow space. His whole soul was in rebellion against the confession
he had come there to make.

"Perhaps you will remember, Dr. Annister," he began, broke off,
stopped to wipe his brow, then stumbled on: "It was here in your
office--you will remember, when I recall it to you--some time ago, you
told me--you asked me about--certain things, and urged me to come to
you--if at any time I felt I needed your help."

"Yes, yes, I remember," the doctor rejoined in encouraging tones. He
was looking at Brand with a searching gaze and saying to himself:
"Faugh! How repulsive his face has grown! He's going to tell me the
whole truth this time!"

Brand was silent again and the doctor went on, a little more briskly:
"Well, let's begin and have it over with. You must bear in mind that
the secrets of the physician's office are as sacred as those of the
confessional."

"I know it, Dr. Annister. But it's a strange story I have to tell you,
and I don't know whether or not you can help me. I thought I could
fight it out myself and win, but I can't. And if you can't help me God
knows what will become of me."

His voice sank despairingly and he dropped into the chair again, his
face in his hands.

"I'll do my best, Felix, whatever it is," the other encouraged again.
"Don't hesitate to confide in me. I've listened to many, many strange
stories in this room, and only the walls are any the wiser."

"I suppose I'm ill." Brand started up again and moved about with
uneasy steps. "I believe you physicians have decided it's an
illness--and I think you've treated some cases--" he halted and seemed
to gather up resolution for his next words--"dissociated, or dual,
personality--that's what you call it, isn't it?"

Dr. Annister sat bolt upright and for an instant could not put under
professional control the surprise that crossed his face. But Brand,
half turned away, was gazing at the floor as if he found it difficult
to meet his companion's eyes. He was conscious of an edge of
impersonal interest in the physician's voice:

"