The physician raised the dying man's head from the floor and observed
a wound in the throat. "I should have thought of this," he said,
believing it suicide.

When the man was dead an examination disclosed the unmistakable marks
of an animal's fangs deeply sunken into the jugular vein.

But there was no animal.



A RESUMED IDENTITY



I--THE REVIEW AS A FORM OF WELCOME

One summer night a man stood on a low hill overlooking a wide expanse
of forest and field. By the full moon hanging low in the west he
knew what he might not have known otherwise: that it was near the
hour of dawn. A light mist lay along the earth, partly veiling the
lower features of the landscape, but above it the taller trees showed
in well-defined masses against a clear sky. Two or three farmhouses
were visible through the haze, but in none of them, naturally, was a
light. Nowhere, indeed, was any sign or suggestion of life except
the barking of a distant dog, which, repeated with mechanical
iteration, served rather to accentuate than dispel the loneliness of
the scene.

The man looked curiously about him on all sides, as one who among