be bothered, so I called to him through the door to go
away, and turned over and went to sleep again."

"He turned over and went to sleep again!" Katherine said breathlessly,
"and it was about that time that I heard the turning in the old bedroom."

"Katherine!" Graham called. "What are you talking about? What are you
thinking about?"

"What else is there?" she asked.

"She's thinking about the truth," Paredes said tensely. "I've always
heard of such things. So have you. You've read of them, if you read at
all. India is full of it. It goes back to ancient Egypt--the same person
simultaneously in two places--the astral body--whatever you choose to
call it. It's the projection of one's self whether consciously or
unconsciously; perhaps the projection of something that retains reason
after an apparent death. You heard him. He didn't seem to walk. He
doesn't remember leaving the room, which was locked on the inside. His
descent of the stairs was without motion as we know it. He had gone some
distance before his mind consciously directed the movement of this
active image of Silas Blackburn, while the double from which it had
sprung lay apparently dead in the old room. You notice he shrank from
shaking hands, and he slept until we hid away the shell. What
disintegration and coming together again has taken place since we buried
that shell in the old graveyard? If his friend had shaken hands with him
would he have grasped emptiness? Did his normal self come back to him
when the shell was put from our sight, and he awakened? These are some of
the questions we must answer."

"You've a fine imagination, Mr. Paredes," Robinson said dryly.

His fat face, nevertheless, was bewildered, and in the eyes, surrounded
by puffy flesh, smouldered a profound uncertainty.

"I wish Groom were here," Paredes was saying. "He would agree with me. He
would know more about it than I."

Robinson threw back his shoulders. He turned to Rawlins with his old
authority. The unimaginative detective had stood throughout,
releasing no indication of his emotions; but as he raised his hand
now to an unnecessary adjustment of his scarf pin, the fingers were
not quite steady.

"Telephone this man Waters," Robinson directed. "Then get in
communication with the office and put them on that end."

Rawlins walked away. Robinson apologized to Silas Blackburn with an
uneasy voice.

"Got to check up what I can. Can't get anywhere with these things unless
y