amily. How could
they all be mistaken? Besides, she might have been really mad, and she
might be now recovering; this might be one of her first lucid moments. I
hardly knew how to continue, but I was so much interested by her first
answers that I felt I must say something.

"Why do you say you have no son! He is here in the house; you have seen
him to-day. Your son is Paul Patoff. He loves you, and has come to see
you."

Again the low, silvery laugh came rippling from her lips. She let the
book fall from her hands upon her lap, and leaned far back upon the
couch.

"Why do you torment me so?" she asked. "I tell you I have no son." Again
she laughed,--less sweetly than before. "Why do you torment me?"

"I do not want to torment you. I will leave you. Shall I come again?"

"Again?" she repeated, vacantly, as though not understanding. But as I
stood beside her I moved a little, and I thought her eyes rested on the
figure of the professor, standing at the other end of the room, and her
face expressed dislike of him, while her answer to me was a meaningless
repetition of my own word.

"Yes," I said. "Shall I come again? Do you like to talk Russian?" This
time she said nothing, but her eyes remained fixed upon the professor.
"I am going," I added. "Good-by."

She looked up suddenly. I bowed to her, out of habit, I suppose. Do
people generally bow to insane persons? To my surprise, she put out her
hand and took mine, and shook it, in the most natural way imaginable;
but she did not answer me. Just as I was turning from her she spoke
again.

"Who are you?" she asked in English.

"My name is Griggs," I replied, and lingered to see if she would say
more. But she laughed again,--very little this time,--and she took up
the book she had dropped and began to read.

Cutter smiled, too, as we left the room. I glanced back at the graceful
figure of the gray-haired woman, extended upon her couch. She did not
look up, and a moment later Cutter and I stood again in the antechamber.
The professor slowly rubbed his hands together,--his gigantic hands,
modeled by nature for dealing with big things. Mrs. North rose from her
reading.

"I have an idea that our patient has recognized this gentleman," said
the scientist. "This has been a remarkably eventful day. She is probably
very tired, and if you could induce her to go to bed it would be a very
good thing, Mrs. North. Good-evening."

"Good-evening," I said. Mrs. North made a sli