Burn, Witch, Burn!

see Di's doll. I'm glad! So glad I want to dance and sing. I'll never see her again.

But dear God how I wish I never had seen her! And still I don't know why.

This was the last reference to Madame Mandilip in Nurse Walters' diary. She died on the morning of

November 25.

CHAPTER IX: END OF THE PETERS DOLL

Braile had been watching me closely. I met his questioning gaze, and tried to conceal the perturbation

which the diary had aroused. I said:

"I never knew Walters had so imaginative a mind."

He flushed and asked angrily: "You think she was fictionizing?"

"Not fictionizing, exactly. Observing a series of ordinary occurrences through the glamour of an active

imagination would be a better way of putting it."

He said, incredulously, "You don't realize that what she has written is an authentic, even though

unconscious, description of an amazing piece of hypnotism?"

"The possibility did occur to me," I answered tartly. "But I find no actual evidence to support it. I do

perceive, however, that Walters was not so well balanced as I had supposed her. I do find evidence that

she was surprisingly emotional; that in at least one of her visits to this Madame Mandilip she was plainly

overwrought and in an extreme state of nervous instability. I refer to her most indiscreet discussion of the

Peters case, after she had been warned by me, you will remember, to say nothing of it to anyone

whatsoever."

"I remember it so well," he said, "that when I came to that part of the diary I had no further doubt of the

hypnotism. Nevertheless, go on."

"In considering two possible causes for any action, it is desirable to accept the more reasonable," I said,

dryly. "Consider the actual facts, Braile. Walters lays stress upon the odd conduct and warnings of the

girl. She admits the girl is a neurotic. Well, the conduct she describes is exactly what we would expect

from a neurotic. Walters is attracted by the dolls and goes in to price them, as anyone would. She is

acting under no compulsion. She meets a woman whose physical characteristics stimulate her

imagination-and arouse her emotionalism. She confides in her. This woman, evidently also of the

emotional type, likes her and makes her a present of a doll. The woman is an artist; she sees in Walters a

desirable model. She asks her to pose-still no compulsion and a natural request-and Walters does pose

for her. The woman has her technique, like all artists, and part of it is to make skeletons for the

framework of her dolls. A natural and intelligent procedure. The sight of the skeleton suggests death to

Walters, and the suggestion of death brings up the image of Peters which has been powerfully impressed

upon her imagination. She becomes momentarily hysterical-again evidence of her overwrought

condition. She takes tea with the doll-maker and is accidentally scalded. Naturally this arouses the

solicitude of her hostess and she dresses the scald with some unguent in whose efficacy she believes. And

that is all. Where in this entirely commonplace sequence of events is there evidence that Walters was

hypnotized? Finally, assuming that she was hypnotized, what evidence is there of motive?"

"She herself gave it," he said, "'to make a doll of you, my dear!'"

I had almost convinced myself by my argument, and this remark exasperated me.

"I suppose," I said, "you want me to believe that once lured into the shop, Walters was impelled by

occult arts to return until this Madame Mandilip's devilish purpose was accomplished. That the

compassionate shop-girl tried to save her from what the old melodramas called a fate worse than

death-although not precisely the fate they meant. That the doll she was to be given for her niece was the

bait on the hook of a sorceress. That it was necessary she be wounded so the witch's salve could be

applied. That it was the salve which carried the unknown death. That the first trap failing, the accident of

the tea-kettle was contrived and was successful. And that now Walters' soul is fluttering inside the witch's

mirror, just as she had dreamed. And all this, my dear Braile, is the most outrageous superstition!"

"Ah!" he said obliquely. "So those possibilities did occur to you after all? Your mind is not so fossilized as

a few moments ago I supposed."

I became still more exasperated.

"It is your theory that from the moment Walters entered the store, every occurrence she has narrated was

designed to give this Madame Mandilip possession of her soul, a design that was consummated by

Walters' death?"

He hesitated, and then said: "In essence-yes."

"A soul!" I mused, sardonically. "But I have never seen a soul. I know of no one whose evidence I would

credit who has seen a soul. What is a soul-if it exists? It is ponderable? Material? If your theory is

correct it must be. How could one gain possession of something which is both imponderables and

nonmaterial? How would one know one had it if it could not be seen nor weighed, felt nor measured, nor