Burn, Witch, Burn!

without. As I studied her I distinctly saw a flash of recognition come into her eyes, and with it appeal. I

looked at Braile-he nodded; he, too, had seen it.

I went over her body inch by inch. It was unmarked except for a pinkish patch upon her right instep.

Closer examination made me think this had been some superficial injury, such as a chafing, or a light burn

or scald. If so, it had completely healed; the skin was healthy.

In all other ways her case paralleled that of Peters-and the others. She had collapsed, the nurse told me,

without warning while getting dressed to go home. My inquiry was interrupted by an exclamation from

Braile. I turned to the bed and saw that Walters' hand was slowly lifting, trembling as though its raising

was by some terrific strain of will. The index finger was half-pointing. I followed its direction to the

disclosed patch upon the foot. And then I saw her eyes, by that same tremendous effort, focus there.

The strain was too great; the hand dropped, the eyes again were pools of horror. Yet clearly she had

tried to convey to us some message, something that had to do with that healed wound.

I questioned the nurse as to whether Walters had said anything to anyone about any injury to her foot.

She replied that she had said nothing to her, nor had any of the other nurses spoken of it. Nurse Robbins,

however, shared the apartment with Harriet and Diana. I asked who Diana was, and she told me that

was the name of Walters' little niece. This was Robbins' night off, I found, and gave instructions to have

her get in touch with me the moment she returned to the apartment.

By now Hoskins was taking his samples for the blood tests. I asked him to concentrate upon the

microscopic smears and to notify me immediately if he discovered one of the luminous corpuscles.

Bartano, an outstanding expert upon tropical diseases, happened to be in the hospital, as well as Somers,

a brain specialist in whom I had strong confidence. I called them in for observation, saying nothing of the

previous cases. While they were examining Walters, Hoskins called up to say he had isolated one of the

shining corpuscles. I asked the pair to go to Hoskins and give me their opinion upon what he had to show

them. In a little while they returned, somewhat annoyed and mystified. Hoskins, they said, had spoken of

a "leucocyte containing a phosphorescent nucleus." They had looked at the slide but had been unable to

find it. Somers very seriously advised me to insist upon Hoskins having his eyes examined. Bartano said

caustically that he would have been quite as surprised to have seen such a thing as he would have been to

have observed a miniature mermaid swimming around in an artery. By these remarks, I realized afresh the

wisdom in my silence.

Nor did the expected changes in expression occur. The horror and loathing persisted, and were

commented upon by both Bartano and Somers as "unusual." They agreed that the condition must be

caused by a brain lesion of some kind. They did not think there was any evidence either of microbic

infection or of drugs or poison. Agreeing that it was a most interesting case, and asking me to let them

know its progress and outcome, they departed.

At the beginning of the fourth hour, there was a change of expression, but not what I had been expecting.

In Walters' eyes, on her face, was only loathing. Once I thought I saw a flicker of the devilish anticipation

flash over her face. If so, it was quickly mastered. About the middle of the fourth hour, we saw

recognition again return to her eyes. Also, there was a perceptible rally of the slowing heart. I sensed an

intense gathering of nervous force.

And then her eyelids began to rise and fall, slowly, as though by tremendous effort, in measured time and

purposefully. Four times they raised and lowered; there was a pause; then nine times they lifted and fell;

again the pause, then they closed and opened once. Twice she did this-

"She's trying to signal," whispered Braile. "But what?"

Again the long-lashed lids dropped and rose-four times…pause…nine times…pause…once…

"She's going," whispered Braile.

I knelt, stethoscope at ears…slower…slower beat the heart…and slower…and stopped.

"She's gone!" I said, and arose. We bent over her, waiting for that last hideous spasm,

convulsion-whatever it might be.

It did not come. Stamped upon her dead face was the loathing, and that only. Nothing of the devilish

glee. Nor was there sound from her dead lips. Beneath my hand I felt the flesh of her white arm begin to

stiffen.

The unknown death had destroyed Nurse Walters-there was no doubt of that. Yet in some obscure,

vague way I felt that it had not conquered her.

Her body, yes. But not her will!

CHAPTER IV: THE THING IN RICORI'S CAR

I returned home with Braile, profoundly depressed. It is difficult to describe the effect the sequence of

events I am relating had upon my mind from beginning to end-and beyond the end. It was as though I