"You have been dozing," he said; "the journey must have
tired you out. It is done now. I am going to fetch Mary; I
shall be back in ten minutes."

Clarke lay back in his chair and wondered. It seemed
as if he had but passed from one dream into another. He half
expected to see the walls of the laboratory melt and disappear,
and to awake in London, shuddering at his own sleeping fancies.
But at last the door opened, and the doctor returned, and behind
him came a girl of about seventeen, dressed all in white. She
was so beautiful that Clarke did not wonder at what the doctor
had written to him. She was blushing now over face and neck and
arms, but Raymond seemed unmoved.

"Mary," he said, "the time has come. You are quite
free. Are you willing to trust yourself to me entirely?"

"Yes, dear."

"Do you hear that, Clarke? You are my witness. Here
is the chair, Mary. It is quite easy. Just sit in it and lean
back. Are you ready?"

"Yes, dear, quite ready. Give me a kiss before you
begin."

The doctor stooped and kissed her mouth, kindly enough.
"Now shut your eyes," he said. The girl closed her eyelids, as
if she were tired, and longed for sleep, and Raymond placed the