hree things," he replied, "all equally impossible. Either your
vision--to call it that--was first recorded in the mind of another
living person and transferred thence to yours--or it was not. If it
wasn't, then it came direct from God or the devil and was purely
miraculous! With your kind permission, we'll rule that out. But if it
was first recorded in the mind of another living person, then we're
forced to accept telepathy--complete thought transference from a
distance--accept it as a fact. I never have so accepted it, and hate
like hell to do it now! And even if I could bring myself to accept it,
my troubles have only begun. From whose mind was this exact vision of
the accident to Mrs. Hunt transferred to yours? So far as I can see, the
detailed facts of it could have been registered in the minds of only two
persons--Miss Blake and your wife. Isn't that so?"

I agreed.

"All right. See where that leaves us! At the time you received this
vision, Miss Blake is lying here in a deep trance, unconscious; and your
wife is dead. Which of these incredible sources of information do you
prefer? It's a matter of indifference to me. Either way my entire
reasoned conception of the universe topples in ruins!"

"But surely," I protested, "it might have come to me from Miss Blake, as
you suggest, without our having to descend to a belief in spirit
communication? Let's rule that out, too!"

"As you please," smiled Doctor Askew, pretty grimly. "If you find it
easier to believe your vision came from Miss Blake, do so by all means!
Personally, I've no choice. I can accept the one explanation quite as
readily as the other. Which means, that as a thinking being I can accept
neither! Both are--absurd. So I can go no further--unless by a sheer act
of faith. I'm baffled, you see--in my own field; completely baffled.
That's what it comes to. And I find it all devilishly annoying and
inconvenient. Don't you?"

I did not reply. For a time I mused, drearily enough, turning many
comfortless things over in my mind. Then I drew from my pocket the three
sheets scribbled by Susan's hand, before it had responded to Doctor
Askew's insistent suggestions.

"Doctor," I asked, handing him the scribbled pages, "in view of all
I've told you, doesn't what Miss Blake has written here strike you as
significant? You see," I added, while he glanced through them, "how
strongly her repressed feelings are in revolt against me--against the
tyranny of my love fo