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Show I HPTl P lO A 1Q) "Of ! LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE Jt .A. JL X. 1 ifc ! Author of .V- . . , . j "The False Faces," "The Lone & AJA JL ilSiv JCV lEL. Illustrated by IRWIN MYERS jg Uupyright 1020 by the Author. L, ?4-Vi I Ife' arid we'll have to get all our facts together to-gether before I can even hazard a guess. Xmv let me read, please." Me concentrated so completely over the manuscript that be seemed utterly utter-ly forgetful of her presence, ftrd did not so much as' look up when, after a time. ve;irv of studying bis expression without knowing what thoughts molded mold-ed It, Priscilla rose and began to wander wan-der restlessly about the studio. It seemed that be would never finish reading . . . VI. THE EVENING PAPER. She was standing to one side of the south window, abstractedly looking down over Macdotigall alley, wdton she beard Philip utter a startled exclamation exclama-tion and jump up from his chair. Turning she saw him approaching, the scribbled pages of her narrative crushed in his hand, his face dark with amazement. "This is more than extraordinary," he declared "it's impossible, incomprehensible! incom-prehensible! . . . Priscilla, tell me; have you by any chance seen the afternoon aft-ernoon papers?" Premonition started a band fluttering flutter-ing toward iter bosom. "Why . . . no." "Ton' re sure?" "But of course, Philip!" And then, alarmed by his look of doubt "What is it? Why do you ask?" "Half a minute." Philip crossed to the console table near the door, where he bad left his hat and stick and a folded newspaper, and came back with the latter, hastily shaking out its sheets. "I remember noticing a news story on my way here," he said abstractedly, ab-stractedly, as he scanned the columns "story curiously like yours in some respects about some gangster or other on the lower East side who shot a detective in the street last night, then took refuge in a restaurant, and escaped after shooting two others. I'm not sure the name's the same but . . . Ah!" The backs of his fingers fin-gers tapped the paper smartly. "Here It is . . . You see." A headline smote her understanding like a blow in the face: "GANG MURDERS ON LOWER EAST SIDE." But the text swam illegibly under her blurring gaze. Even Philip's voice seemed remote, at times barely audible. audi-ble. "Yes, the same names: Leo Bie-linsky, Bie-linsky, the gangster, a Russian suspected sus-pected of being a bolshevik agent naturally ; all Russians are nowadays Ennis and Corbin, plain-clothes men Ristori's restaurant. No mention of Mr. Carnehan, though, or anybody else except the proprietor of Ristori's, who swears he never saw Bielinsky before last night. Apparently yo"r friends made a clean getaway, too " Priscilla caught his arm with imploring im-ploring hands. "Philip! It isn't true I It can't be! Tell me it isn't !" Seeing her face of waxen pallor, her dilate eyes In which horror flickered, flick-ered, he dropped the newspaper, freed his arm gently, and took her hand in tbe firm, calming and encouraging clasp of the physician. . "Steady, 'Cilia, old girl, steady on I Of course it isn't true not the way you mean. There's an explanation somewhere short of witchcraft, and I'll find it for you, Priscilla, I'll dig It out if I have to chuck my practice to the dogs and give the rest of my life to the job !" "There's nothing wrong with your mind." I days ui ruin'. She v;is always pleased when I'iiiliji v;is about. Consciousness of the love In had for her was something some-thing she would not willingly have forfeited. She was only sorry she didn't love In iM In re! urn; at least, not In the way Philip wanted and deserved to he loved . . . vastly different from siteh love as had thrown Leonora into ll:e arms of Mario . . . She paused, a siighl frown puckering pucker-ing Iter delicately lined brows. Si r:Mr.;e how t he memory of that c arets had power to tup at h"f heartstrings heart-strings : S! ranker si ill that anything as fanlaslie as that shadowy love of shadow s should seem so real, more real lhan all else in the content of her drama, even Ms culminating tragedy . . more real, indeed, than anything In this world of reality wherein she moved and lived and had her being . Tn a hm stare she comprehended the studio as with strange eyes, perceiving per-ceiving afresh the substantial beauty of lis time-mellowed furnishings: the well-chosen pieces of period mahogany mahog-any shining with contented luster; the handsome draperies of rich stuffs matchlessly colored and toned, brocades, bro-cades, tapestries, embossed velvets, illuminated leathers of antique Spanish Span-ish artistry; the framed canvases on its walls and those unframed others that turned to them bashful faces, standing on the floor; the line old rugs whose collection had been her father's bobby; the darkly polished floor darkly dark-ly mirroring all things that caught the light ; the great wide fireplace with its massive dogs of brass; the bookshelves book-shelves laden with well-bound works of art; the wide, nmllioned window In the south wall whose heavy draperies she had thrown back to let in the sun. She gave a gesture of doubt and anxiety. If this were not love, what was it? Not sanity: how could one love a phantom? . . . She began to regret the weakness which had moved her to call up Philip Fosdick. How could she bring herself to confess this secret se-cret even to him? How keep it hidden hid-den from him? How hope to deceive that keen insight which had lifted htm to his present high place in the ranks of psychopathologists? She sang no more, but awaited Philip's coming with more misgivings than she liked. V. CONFESSION. Philip Fosdick had a way of exorcising ex-orcising constraint and Implanting confidence even in those who had no special liking for him. And Priscilla was genuinely attached to him, more so than she knew. And when she saw how well be looked, bow very much alive and alert mentally and physically physi-cally Philip always seemed at concert pitch and never to know a let-down hesitation and doubts were swept away like leaves before an autumnal wind. "I suspected it," he announced, nodding nod-ding sagely : "you're a fraud and thank God for that! Now give me tea, please, and tell me All." She made a little move of petulance. petu-lance. "I knew you'd laugh at me!" "I hoped I would." Philip flopped bovfshly into bis favorite fa-vorite chair, helped himself to a cig-aret, cig-aret, and watched Priscilla narrowly narrow-ly while she sugared his cup with the traditional two lumps, added the slice of lemon, and drowned both in tea. Never had she seemed more beautiful or more perfectly poised. Impassible, he told himself, there could be any. thing amiss with a creature of such radiance' Some girlish notion, nothing noth-ing more serious . . . "How long have you known me, Philip?" "Let me see ... To the best of my recollection, since you were about a year old; I remember coming Into the nursery unexpectedly and finding you " "Never mind ! Have you ever observed ob-served anything In me that led you to believe I was abnormal in any way?" He contemplated a frivolous reply, hut seeing the gravity in her eyes refrained. re-frained. "Never!" said Philip solemnly. "Well, there is something . Philip: I have dreams. The strangest dreams . . . Let me tell you. And please don't laugh, Philip. It Isn't any laughing matter." He. drew the soberest face of sympathy sym-pathy imaginable. "Go on." "As far back as I can remember. I've every now and then had a special sort of dream that siomed -very real to me. Even as a little girl though , Mien. I think, they weren't so definite . . . But when I began to grow into long dresses, the dreams took on a certain form they've kept ever since." "Such as ?" "What I fancy slums must be like. The self I see in dreams belongs there dresses, acts, talks precisely like ft girl who's never had any advantages to speak of, much education or contact con-tact with the pleasant side of life. All the same she Is myself . . . much as if I put on some disguise so complete com-plete It disguised even my speech and habits of thoughts, even my sentiments senti-ments and Impulses. This girl does and says tilings I never could and, awake, have never thought of. But to her they seem quite right, the narural and right things to do and say. The truth is, most of the time she's rather self-satisfied and pleased with everythingthe every-thingthe life she leads, the people she knows, the fun she lias everything." every-thing." "I understand." Now un feigned I y intrigued, Philip had abandoned all pretense of treating the matter lightly, light-ly, and was sitting forward, cigaret smoldering between his lingers, his eyes intently searching Priscilla's face. "Tell me something about the content of these dreams. Go back as far as you can . . ." "My first memories are very vague," Priscilla told him. "They were childish child-ish and simple impressions of another litt'e girl who was rather unhappy most of the time. I think she lived with an old woman a wretched old witch of a woman who was cruel to her. seemed to hate her and enjoy heating her in a mean little flat somewhere. The old woman used to tell fortunes with cards in the front room. But all that's very vague now. I don't remember much more, except that the little girl used to play a great deal in the streets." "But when she or you grew up, the dreams became more real?" "Yes; about that time something happened to the old woman, I presume she died, and the girl was left alone to look out for herself. I don't know what she did for a living because I never saw her except at night. Then I would meet her, or rather find myself with her in the Street of Strange Facs A questioning look obliged Priscilla to break off here and explain about the river, the Dark Corner, and the Street. "And then we," she resumed "or she would start off and have curious experiences. She somehow fell In with a sort of desperado, a gang leader such as one sometimes reads about in the newspapers, named Bed Carnehan Carne-han " "So you remember names!" "Oh, perfectly ; places, too. And this Red Carnehan fell in love wifTi her, and they became engaged I "You You Don't Think It Means Insanity, Do You?" guess. She was brighter, more intelligent intel-ligent than he. and she planned things for him to do. with his gang robberies rob-beries and such things, as far as I know and how to escape the consequences. conse-quences. Another man, named Mario, loved her, too; hut he wasn't one of Bed's gang; in fact he was 'bitterly opposed op-posed to her having anything to do with it, and always begging her to give It up and marry him. But she was afraid of Bed, and always refused. re-fused. I think she always mean't to marry Red Carnehan until Inst night ..." ' Priscilla paused and was so long silent, staring at the floor, lost in thoughts and emotions conjured up by this near approach to her latest dream, that Philip found it necessary to prompt her. "What happened last night?" "The dream that frightened me so I had to tell somebody and thought of you." "Then, tell me . . .' She rose, crossed to a desk, came back with the manuscript. "I'd ralher you'd read It, if you don't mind,, Philip. I wrote the story out last Dlght, as clearly as I could remember. And her It Is . . . But first, tell me what you think. You you don't think It means Insanity, do you?" His laugh reassured even more than bis words. "Bless your heart, no! The insane don't have coherent dreams, or talk about them intelligibly. Don't worry about that . . . But, frankly, I don't know what to think. There must be an explanation, because nothing noth-ing in nature is without its cause. But In this case it's something that will want a deal of hunting, I'm afraid ; 0 - -O THE HAUNTED WOMAN. hy "n'iiis Viiiifly cons'-inus of ii flnul.;- pi-ri-'oi::t:ity, but without any ld.-u nf il nifUJilng, the Klii, I.--o-nnr;i, nut kes her hchh turned way Ir.r ii t f to fciraiit Of Htr.in,7e I-e-f s. TlnJr..i.:tftiy tit home In lln- u-.th-r-U'n.J of Xt-w York, Leonora t;ilten her course to her apiioinU'tl n'rulcz-vouz. n'rulcz-vouz. M:trio JoIiim her. Jrenily In low and set? In thti tint quu titles which the R-iii really iiosscsmpk. Mario Ma-rio seek:i to turn her from the n.ith of iui-vltuhle C'estruction. S'he pr-nni-iF"p to mitrry him. A( Hlstorl's c.-ife. tri therln,' plac;- of criminals lonora mc:ts her partner. "Red'' Cai nehan, and hla asnoclal e:;, ami In ace used of betraying a fellow criminal to the police. She .savagely .sav-agely defends herself, and the en-f en-f uintf argument is Interrupted by the appearance of Leo Tile! inslty. fleeing from Che police, one of whom lie has killed. OIlKers In pursuit crash into the room and two are killed by Carnehan. Ieo-nora Ieo-nora and the rest escape. In her studio, Priscilla Maine, wealthy artist, awakes from troubled sleep with a distinct feeling of having her life linked with Leonora's. I'riscilia has painted a picture of hfi'self in fancy drews a k'ipsy which seems to have a hypnoik- effect ef-fect on her. Unnerved, nnd fearful that her mind is a free ted, I'riscilia decider to call to her aid a dear friend. Dr. I'hillp Fosdick. to c III. PHILIP FOSDICK Continued. "Bur. Philip, yon do It so poorly, you're so professional ; you transfix me with the penetrating eye of diagnosis and prescribe: 'Love me!' for all the world as if love were bread pills or distilled water In a bottle labeled 'Shake well before using!' And I really don't feel run down enough ..." "I see. You want love slipped over on you . . . like bribing the cook to put a philtre in your coffee." She laughed delightedly. "That's it. Philip! Subtlety does It." "Thanks for the tip. I'm making a nolo of it. So don't be surprised if you wake up one fine morning and find yourself madly in love with me." "I won't be ;' and I wouldn't even mind " "Priscilla !" "But I'm not now. So don't lose your bead." Why not, when my heart ?" "Please! I .called up to ask a very serious question." "Shoot." "What's a psycho-analyst, Philip?" "Well, I'm one a cross between a quack and a confidence man." "I know; but what do you do when you're duly functioning as' such?" "You mean, how do I make a liv- j ing?" "No only what do you do to make people pay fat fees." j "Why, I pry into their souls, if they i happen to have any, and ferret out all their secrets those they purposely try to keep from me, and those they themselves them-selves don't know anything nbout." "I see . . . Philip, will you do me a favor; psycho-analyze me?" "What's the good? I did that long ago." "Really, Philip?" Misgivings put a tremor into her voice. "What did you find out?" "That you're the dearest, sweetest "No please ! I'm In earnest. I think I've got a buried secret, and I want you to exhume it and see what it's made of." "Are you serious?" ! "Desperately." 1 , "Mm . . . What are you domg this afternoon?" "Having you to tea, if you can come." "'11 come whether I can or not. But what about Aunt Esther? We can't have a third present if we're to talk confidences." "Let's have tea at the studio." "Same objection; Ada Mover " "I'll got rid of her somehow." "ItiLdit-o! Tbe studio. What time? Emir?" "Please. I'll be waiting." IV. LOVE? Ada Moyer was a pretty, vivacious, fluffy little woman, thoroughly mon-daine mon-daine and contented with herself, her husband, her world. Entirely lacking In any special apiitude for painting, she dabbled in oils a bit. partly because be-cause it afforded her an out let for much superfluous energy that might otherwise have got her into mischief, partly because she was fond of Priscilla, Pris-cilla, believed her by way of being a genius, and was irhvl to lend the girl the show of chaperonage without which she must have had a difficult -time of it with Aunt Esther. . But Mrs. Moyer was a-s apt as not to absent herself her-self from the studio for days at a time; and on this afternoon Priscilla found nothing to indicate that the other had been there at all. Glad to be spared the necessity of explaining that she wanted to be nlone with Philip Fosdick, the girl moved alertly round the room, superintending superin-tending the preparation of tea by the maid she bad brought with her, placing plac-ing the table and the chairs the way she wanted them setting the stage for h scene which, she felt Instinctively, miUt affect most Intimately all her |