quieted her. It was not exactly madness that he had to deal with, and he
knew it. The woman required firm, quiet treatment. Dr. Walker stood
alongside, anxious and nervous. The man with the quiet practice of the
well-to-do doctor was not used to scenes of this kind.

"You have something to conceal," Bell said, sternly. "Open the door."

"Really, my dear sir," Walker said, fussily. "Really, I fancy that under
the circumstances--"

"You don't understand this kind of case," Bell interrupted. "I do."

Walker dropped aside with a muttered apology. Bell approached the figure
in the doorway and whispered a few words rapidly in her ear. The effect
was electrical. The figure seemed to wilt and shrivel up, all the power
and resistance had gone. She stepped aside, moaning and wringing her
hands. She babbled of strange things; the old, far-away look came into
her eyes again.

Without a word of comment or sign of triumph Bell entered the sick room.
Then he raised his head and sniffed the heavy atmosphere as an eager
hound might have done. A quick, sharp question rose to his lips, only to
be instantly suppressed as he noted the vacant glance of his colleague.

The white figure on the bed lay perfectly motionless. It was the figure
of a young and exceedingly beautiful girl, a beauty heightened and
accentuated by the dead-white pallor of her features. Still the face
looked resolute and the exquisitely chiselled lips were firm.

"Albumen," Bell muttered. "What fiend's game is this? I wonder if that