ing, shaky indeed, but indisputably the
handwriting of Mr. Bessel!

"How did you get this?" said Mr. Vincey. "Do you mean--?"

"We got it last night," said Doctor Paget. With numerous interruptions
from Mr. Vincey, he proceeded to explain how the writing had been
obtained. It appears that in her seances, Mrs. Bullock passes into a
condition of trance, her eyes rolling up in a strange way under her
eyelids, and her body becoming rigid. She then begins to talk very
rapidly, usually in voices other than her own. At the same time one or
both of her hands may become active, and if slates and pencils are
provided they will then write messages simultaneously with and quite
independently of the flow of words from her mouth. By many she is
considered an even more remarkable medium than the celebrated Mrs.
Piper. It was one of these messages, the one written by her left hand,
that Mr. Vincey now had before him. It consisted of eight words
written disconnectedly: "George Bessel ... trial excavn ... Baker
Street ... help ... starvation." Curiously enough, neither Doctor
Paget nor the two other inquirers who were present had heard of the
disappearance of Mr. Bessel--the news of it appeared only in the
evening papers of Saturday--and they had put the message aside with
many others of a vague and enigmatical sort that Mrs. Bullock has from
time to time delivered.

When Doctor Paget heard Mr. Vincey's story, he gave himself at once
with great energy to the pursuit of this clue to the discovery of Mr.
Bessel. It would serve no useful purpose here to describe the
inquiries of Mr. Vincey and himself; suffice it that the clue was a
genuine one, and that Mr. Bessel was actually discovered by its aid.

He was found at the bottom of a detached shaft which had been sunk and
abandoned at the commencement of the work for the new electric railway
near Baker Street Station. His arm and leg and two ribs were broken.
The shaft is protected by a hoarding nearly 20 feet high, and over
this, incredible as it seems, Mr. Bessel, a stout, middle-aged
gentleman, must have scrambled in order to fall down the shaft. He was
saturated in colza oil, and the smashed tin lay beside him, but luckily
the flame had been extinguished by his fall. And his madness had
passed from him altogether. But he was, of course, terribly enfeebled,
and at the sight of his rescuers he gave way to hysterical weeping.

In view of the deplorable state of his flat,