ower's out of commission, you see; in this
state she's nothing more nor less than a highly complicated instrument.
And the record she plays may be of no interest to anybody; some
long-forgotten incident or experience of childhood, for example. On the
other hand, if we can get the right record going--eh?--we've every
chance of finding out exactly what we want to know!" He paused, fixing
his already attentive pupil with his peculiarly vivid green-blue glance.

"Now, Conlon, _get_ this--it's important! I must ask you to believe one
other thing about the Unconscious Mind--simply take it on my say-so, as
a proved fact: When the conscious mind is temporarily out of
business--as under hypnotism, or in trance--the unconscious mind, like
the sensitive instrument it is, will often obey or respond to outside
suggestions. I can't go into all this, of course. But what I ask you to
believe about Miss Blake is this: In her present state of trance, at my
suggestion, _she has played the right record for us_! She has
automatically written down for us an account of her experiences last
evening. And I assure you this account, obtained in this way, is far
more reliable and far more complete than any she could give us in her
normal, conscious, waking state. There's nothing marvellous or weird
about it, Conlon. We have here"--and he slightly rattled the loose
sheets in his hand--"simply an automatic record of stored-up
impressions. Do you see?"

Conlon grunted that he guessed maybe he saw; at any rate, he was willing
to be shown.

Then Doctor Askew read us Susan's own story of the strange, idiotically
meaningless accident to Gertrude. As it corresponded in every particular
with my vision, I shall not repeat it; but it produced an enormous
impression on Sergeant Conlon and Maltby, and even on Lucette. Taken in
connection with my independent theory of what must have occurred, they
found Susan's story entirely convincing; though whether Lucette really
found it so or had suddenly decided--because of certain uncomfortable
accusations against herself made by Susan's hand--that the whole matter
had gone quite far enough and any further publicity would be a mistake,
I must leave to your later judgment.

As for the coroner, when at length he arrived, he too--to my
astonishment and unspeakable relief--accepted Susan's automatic story
without delay or demur. Here was a stroke of sheer good luck, for a
grateful change--but quite as senseless in itsel