his hand.

He started when he heard me, then laughed and held out his hand.

"Library paste!" he said. "It rolls into a soft, malleable ball.
It could quite easily be used to fill a small hole in plaster.
The paper would paste down over it, too."

"Then you think?"

"I'm not thinking at all. The thing she described may have taken
place in Timbuctoo. May have happened ten years ago. May be the
plot of some book she has read."

"On the other hand," I replied, "it is just possible that it was
here, in this neighborhood, while we were sitting in that room."

"Have you any idea of the time?"

"I know exactly. It was half-past nine."



III


At midnight, shortly after we reached home, Sperry called me on the
phone. "Be careful, Horace," he said. "Don't let Mrs. Horace think
anything has happened. I want to see you at once. Suppose you say
I have a patient in a bad way, and a will to be drawn."