Burn, Witch, Burn!

news to the guards. I could see that they were bursting with questions. I gave them no encouragement to

ask them.

At eight, my day nurse for Ricori appeared, plainly much surprised to have found Butler sleeping and to

find me taking her place. I made no explanation, simply telling her that the guards would now be stationed

within the room instead of outside the door.

At eight-thirty, Braile dropped in on me for breakfast, and to report. I let him finish before I apprised him

of what had happened. I said nothing, however, of the nurse's little cap, nor of my own experience.

I assumed this reticence for well-considered reasons. One, Braile would accept in its entirety the

appalling deduction from the cap's presence. I strongly suspected that he had been in love with Walters,

and that I would be unable to restrain him from visiting the doll-maker. Usually hard-headed, he was in

this matter far too suggestible. It would be dangerous for him, and his observations would be worthless to

me. Second, if he knew of my own experience, he would without doubt refuse to let me out of his sight.

Third, either of these contingencies would defeat my own purpose, which was to interview Madame

Mandilip entirely alone-with the exception of McCann to keep watch outside the shop.

What would come of that meeting I could not forecast. But, obviously, it was the only way to retain my

self-respect. To admit that what had occurred was witchcraft, sorcery, supernatural-was to surrender to

superstition. Nothing can be supernatural. If anything exists, it must exist in obedience to natural laws.

Material bodies must obey material laws. We may not know those laws-but they exist nevertheless. If

Madame Mandilip possessed knowledge of an unknown science, it behooved me as an exemplar of

known science, to find out what I could about the other. Especially as I had recently responded so

thoroughly to it. That I had been able to outguess her in her technique-if it had been that, and not a

self-induced illusion-gave me a pleasant feeling of confidence. At any rate, meet her I must.

It happened to be one of my days for consultation, so I could not get away until after two. I asked Braile

to take charge of matters after that, for a few hours.

Close to ten the nurse telephoned that Ricori was awake, that he was able to speak and had been asking

for me.

He smiled at me as I entered the room. As I leaned over and took his wrist he said:

"I think you have saved more than my life, Dr. Lowell! Ricori thanks you. He will never forget!"

A bit florid, but thoroughly in character. It showed that his mind was functioning normally. I was relieved.

"We'll have you up in a jiffy." I patted his hand.

He whispered: "Have there been any more deaths?"

I had been wondering whether he had retained any recollection of the affair of the night. I answered:

"No. But you have lost much strength since McCann brought you here. I don't want you to do much

talking today." I added, casually: "No, nothing has happened. Oh, yes-you fell out of bed this morning.

Do you remember?"

He glanced at the guards and then back at me. He said:

"I am weak. Very weak. You must make me strong quickly."

"We'll have you sitting up in two days, Ricori."

"In less than two days I must be up and out. There is a thing I must do. It cannot wait."

I did not want him to become excited. I abandoned any intention of asking what had happened in the car.

I said, incisively:

"That will depend entirely upon you. You must not excite yourself. You must do as I tell you. I am going

to leave you now, to give orders for your nutrition. Also, I want your guards to remain in this room."

He said: "And still you tell me-nothing has happened."

"I don't intend to have anything happen." I leaned over him and whispered: "McCann has guards around

the Mandilip woman. She cannot run away."

He said: "But her servitors are more efficient than mine, Dr. Lowell!"

I looked at him sharply. His eyes were inscrutable. I went back to my office, deep in thought. What did

Ricori know?

At eleven o'clock McCann called me on the telephone. I was so glad to hear from him that I was angry.

"Where on earth have you been-" I began.

"Listen, Doc. I'm at Mollie's-Peters' sister," he interrupted. "Come here quick."

The peremptory demand added to my irritation. "Not now," I answered. "These are my office hours. I

will not be free until two."

"Can't you break away? Something's happened. I don't know what to do!" There was desperation in his

voice.

"What has happened?" I asked.

"I can't tell you over-" His voice steadied, grew gentle; I heard him say, "Be quiet, Mollie. It can't do no

good!" Then to me-"Well, come as soon as you can, Doc. I'll wait. Take the address." Then when he

had given it to me, I heard him again speaking to another-"Quit it, Mollie! I ain't going to leave you."

He hung up, abruptly. I went back to my chair, troubled. He had not asked me about Ricori. That in itself

was disquieting. Mollie? Peters' sister, of course! Was it that she had learned of her brother's death, and