Burn, Witch, Burn!

heard? If not material, how could it be constrained, directed, confined? As you suggest has been done

with Walters' soul by this doll-maker. If material, then where does it reside in the body? Within the brain?

I have operated upon hundreds and never yet have I opened any secret chamber housing this mysterious

occupant. Little cells, far more complicated in their workings than any machinery ever devised, changing

their possessor's mentality, moods, reason, emotion, personality-according to whether the little cells are

functioning well or ill. These I have found, Braile-but never a soul. Surgeons have thoroughly explored

the balance of the body. They, too, have found no secret temple within it. Show me a soul, Braile, and I'll

believe in Madame Mandilip."

He studied me in silence for a little, then nodded.

"Now I understand. It's hit you pretty hard, too, hasn't it? You're doing a little beating of your own

against the mirror, aren't you? Well, I've had a struggle to thrust aside what I've been taught is reality and

to admit there may be something else just as real. This matter, Lowell, is extra-medical, outside the

science we know. Until we admit that, we'll get nowhere. There are still two points I'd like to take up.

Peters and the Darnley woman died the same kind of death. Ricori finds that they both had dealings with

a Madame Mandilip-or so we can assume. He visits her and narrowly escapes death. Harriet visits her,

and dies as Darnley and Peters did. Reasonably, therefore, doesn't all this point to Madame Mandilip as

a possible source of the evil that overtook all four?"

"Certainly," I answered.

"Then it must follow that there could have been real cause for the fear and forebodings of Harriet. That

there could exist a cause other than emotionalism and too much imagination-even though Harriet were

unaware of these circumstances."

Too late I realized the dilemma into which my admission had put me, but I could answer only in the

affirmative.

"The second point is her loss of all desire to return to the doll-maker after the teapot incident. Did that

strike you as curious?"

"No. If she were emotionally unstable, the shock would automatically set itself up as an inhibition, a

subconscious barrier. Unless they are masochists, such types do not like to return to the scene of an

unpleasant experience."

"Did you notice her remark that after the scalding, the woman did not accompany her to the door of the

store? And that it was the first time she had neglected to do so?"

"Not particularly. Why?"

"This. If the application of the salve constituted the final act, and thereafter death became inevitable, it

might be highly embarrassing to Madame Mandilip to have her victim going in and out of her shop during

the time it took the poison to kill. The seizure might even take place there, and lead to dangerous

questions. The clever thing, therefore, would be to cause the unsuspecting sacrifice to lose all interest in

her; indeed, feel a repulsion against her, or even perhaps forget her. This could be easily accomplished by

post-hypnotic suggestion. And Madame Mandilip had every opportunity for it. Would this not explain

Harriet's distaste as logically as imagination-or emotionalism?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"And so," he said, "we have the woman's failure to go to the door with Harriet that day explained. Her

plot has succeeded. It is all over. And she has planted her suggestion. No need now for any further

contact with Harriet. She lets her go, unaccompanied. Significant symbolism of finality!"

He sat thinking.

"No need to meet Harriet again," he half-whispered, "till after death!"

I said, startled: "What do you mean by that?"

"Never mind," he answered.

He crossed to the charred spot upon the floor and picked up the heat-blasted crystals. They were about

twice the size of olive pits and apparently of some composite. He walked to the table and looked down

upon the grotesque figure with its skeleton ribs.

"Suppose the heat melted it?" he asked, and reached over to lift the skeleton. It held fast, and he gave it a

sharp tug. There was a shrill twanging sound, and he dropped it with a startled oath. The thing fell to the

floor. It writhed, the single wire of which it was made uncoiling.

Uncoiling, it glided over the floor like a serpent and came to rest, quivering.

We looked from it to the table.

The substance that had resembled a sprawling, flattened, headless body was gone. In its place was a film

of fine gray dust which swirled and eddied for a moment in some unfelt draft-and then, too, was gone.

CHAPTER X: NURSE'S CAP AND WITCH'S LADDER

"She knows how to get rid of the evidence!"

Braile laughed-but there was no mirth in his laughter. I said nothing. It was the same thought I had held

of McCann when the doll's head had vanished. But McCann could not be suspected of this. Evading any

further discussion of the matter, we went to the Annex to see Ricori.

There were two new guards on watch at his door. They arose politely and spoke to us pleasantly. We