have got the better of us in this one. It seems to me only common
sense to believe that we're obliged to work them off somewhere until we
are free of them. That is the way my first lady used to talk anyhow, and
I've never found anybody that could give me a more sensible idea."

"And isn't there any way to stop it? What has Mrs. Vanderbridge done?"

"Oh, she can't do anything now. It has got beyond her, though she has
had doctor after doctor, and tried everything she could think of. But,
you see, she is handicapped because she can't mention it to her husband.
He doesn't know that she knows."

"And she won't tell him?"

"She is the sort that would die first--just the opposite from the Other
One--for she leaves him free, she never clutches and strangles. It isn't
her way." For a moment she hesitated, and then added grimly--"I've
wondered if you could do anything?"

"If I could? Why, I am a perfect stranger to them all."

"That's why I've been thinking it. Now, if you could corner her some
day--the Other One--and tell her up and down to her face what you think
of her."

The idea was so ludicrous that it made me laugh in spite of my shaken
nerves. "They would fancy me out of my wits! Imagine stopping an
apparition and telling it what you think of it!"

"Then you might try talking it over with Mrs. Vanderbridge. It would
help her to know that you see her also."

But the next morning, when I went down to Mrs. Vanderbridge's room, I
found that she was too ill to see me. At noon a trained nurse came on
the case, and for a week we took our meals together in the morning-room
upstairs. She appeared competent enough, but I am sure that she didn't
so much as suspect that there was anything wrong in the house except the
influenza which had attacked Mrs. Vanderbridge the night of the opera.
Never once during that week did I catch a glimpse of the Other One,
though I felt her presence whenever I left my room and passed through
the hall below. I knew all the time as well as if I had seen her that
she was hidden there, watching, watching--

At the end of the week Mrs. Vanderbridge sent for me to write some
letters, and when I went into her room, I found her lying on the couch
with a tea table in front of her. She asked me to make the tea because
she was still so weak, and I saw that she looked flushed and feverish,
and that her eyes were unnaturally large and bright. I hoped she
wouldn't talk to me, because people in that stat