"They say so," he said grimly. And added,--irritably: "Good heavens,
Horace, we must keep that other fool thing out of our minds."

"Yes," I agreed. "We must."

Although the Wells house was brilliantly lighted when we reached it,
we had difficulty in gaining admission. Whoever were in the house
were up-stairs, and the bell evidently rang in the deserted kitchen
or a neighboring pantry.

"We might try the servants' entrance," Sperry said. Then he
laughed mirthlessly.

"We might see," he said, "if there's a key on the nail among the
vines."

I confess to a nervous tightening of my muscles as we made our
way around the house. If the key was there, we were on the track
of a revelation that might revolutionize much that we had held
fundamental in science and in our knowledge of life itself. If,
sitting in Mrs. Dane's quiet room, a woman could tell us what was
happening in a house a mile or so away, it opened up a new earth.
Almost a new heaven.

I stopped and touched Sperry's arm. "This Miss Jeremy--did she
know Arthur Wells or Elinor? If she knew the house, and the
situation between them, isn't it barely possible that she
anticipated this thing?"

"We knew them," he said gruffly, "and whatever we anticipated, it