of course--because for some peculiar reason
I had expected her. She stood quietly before me, her cameo face, set in
the black of mourning, staring straight into mine.

"You know why I have come?" she said quickly.

I glanced at the paper on the table before me, and nodded. Her eyes
followed my glance.

"That is only part of it, Doctor," she said. "I was in love with
Franklin--very much--but I have come to you for something more. Because
you are a famous psychologist, and can help me."

She sat down quietly, leaning forward so that her arms rested on the
table. Her face was white, almost as white as the face of that young
adventurer who had come to me on the previous evening. And when she
spoke, her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"Doctor, for many days now I have been under some strange power.
Something frightful, that compels me to think and act against my will."

She glanced at me suddenly, as if to note the effect of her words. Then:

"I was engaged to Franklin for more than a month, Doctor: yet for a
week now I have been commanded--commanded--by some awful force, to
return to--to a man who knew me more than two years ago. I can't explain
it. I did not love this man; I hated him bitterly. Now comes this mad
desire, this hungering, to go to him. And last night--"

* * * * *

Margot Vernee hesitated suddenly. She stared at me searchingly. Then,
with renewed courage, she continued.

"Last night, Doctor, I was alone. I had retired for the night, and it
was late, nearly three o'clock. And then I was strangely commanded, by
this awful power that has suddenly taken possession, of my soul, to go
out. I tried to restrain myself, and in the end I found myself walking
through the square. I went straight to Franklin White's home. When I
reached there, it was half past three--I could hear Big Ben. I went
in--through the wide French window at the side of the house. I went
straight to Franklin's room--_because I could not prevent myself from
going_."

A sob came from Margot's lips. She had half risen from her chair, and
was holding herself together with a brave effort. I went to her side and
stood over her. And she, with a half crazed laugh, stared up at me.

"He was dead when I saw him!" she cried. "Dead! Murdered! That infernal
force, what ever it was, had made me go straight to my lover's side, to
see him lying there, with those cruel finger marks on his throat--dead,
I tell y