They reached her home; the light in the living room window was evidence
that the bridge game was still in progress. She mounted the steps,
Mueller watching her silently from the walk; she fumbled for her key. Suddenly she snapped her hand-bag shut; she couldn't face her mother
and the two spinster Brocks and elderly, inquisitive Carter Henderson. They'd suggest that she cut into the game, and they'd argue if
she refused, and she couldn't play bridge now! She glanced at the
impassive Mueller, turned and crossed the strip of lawn to Dr. Horker's
residence, where the light still glowed in the library, and rang the
bell. She saw the figure on the sidewalk move away as the shadow of the
Doctor appeared on the lighted square of the door. "Hello," boomed the Doctor amiably. "Come in." Pat stalked into the library and threw herself angrily into Dr.
Horker's particular chair. The other grinned, and chose another place. "Well," he said, "What touched off the fuse this time?" "Why are you spying on my friends?" snapped the girl. "By what right?" "So he's spotted Mueller, eh? That lad's diabolically clever, Pat--and
I mean diabolic." "That's no answer!" "So it isn't," agreed the Doctor. "Say it's because I'm acting _in loco
parentis_." "And _in loco_ is as far as you'll get, Dr. Carl, if you're going to
spy on me!" "On you?" he said mildly. "Who's spying on you?" "On us, then!" "Or on us?" queried the Doctor. "I set Mueller to watch the Devine lad. Have you by some mischance broken your promise to me?" Pat flushed. She had forgotten that broken promise; the recollection of
it suddenly took the wind from her sails, placed her on the defensive. "All right," she said defiantly. "I did; I admit it. Does that excuse
you?" "Perhaps it helps to explain my actions, Pat. Don't you understand that
I'm trying to protect you? Do you think I hired Mueller out of morbid
curiosity, or professional interest in the case? Times aren't so good
that I can throw money away on such whims." "I don't need any protection. I can take care of myself!" "So I noticed," said the Doctor dryly. "You gave convincing evidence of
it night before last." "Oh!" said the girl in exasperation. "You would say that!" "It's true, isn't it?" "Suppose it is! I don't have to learn the same lesson twice." "Well, apparently once wasn't enough," observed the other amiably. "You
walked into the same danger tonight." "I wasn't in any danger tonight!" Suddenly her mood changed as she
recalled the circumstances of her parting with Nicholas Devine. "Dr.
Carl," she said, her voice dropping, "I'm terribly unhappy." "Lord!" he exclaimed staring at her. "Pat, your moods are as changeable
as my golf game! You're as mercurial as your Devine lad! A moment ago
you were snapping at me, and now I'm suddenly acceptable again." He
perceived the misery in her face. "All right, child; I'm listening." "He's going away," she said mournfully. "Don't you think that's best for everybody concerned? I commend his
judgment." "But I don't want him to!" "You do, Pat. You can't continue seeing him, and his absence will make
it easier for you." "It'll never be easier for me, Dr. Carl." She felt her eyes fill. "I
guess I'm--just a fool about him." "You still feel that way, after the experience you went through?" "Yes. Yes, I do." "Then you _are_ a fool about him, Pat. He's not worth such devotion." "How do you know what he's worth? I'm the only one to judge that." "I have eyes," said the Doctor. "What happened tonight to change your
attitude so suddenly? You were amenable to reason yesterday." "I didn't know yesterday what I know now." "So he told a story, eh?" The Doctor watched her serious, troubled
features. "Would you mind telling me, Honey? I'm interested in the
defense mechanisms these psychopathic cases erect to explain their own
impulses to themselves." "No, I won't tell you!" snapped Pat indignantly. "Psychopathic cases! We're all just cases to you. I'm a case and he's another, and all you
want is our symptoms!" Doctor Horker smiled placatingly into her face. "Pat dear," he said
earnestly, "don't you see I'd give my eyes to help you? Don't take
my flippancies too seriously, Honey; look once in a while at the
intentions behind them." He continued his earnest gaze. The girl returned his look; her face softened. "I'm sorry," she said
contritely. "I never doubted it, Dr. Carl--it's only that I'm so--so
torn to pieces by all this that I get snappy and irritable." She
paused. "Of course I'll tell you." "I'd like to hear it." "Well," she began hesitantly, "he said he was two personalities--one
the character I knew, and one the character that we saw Saturday night. And the first one is--well, dominant, and fights the other one. He says
the other has been growing stronger; until lately he could suppress
it. And he says--Oh, it sounds ridiculous, the way I tell it, but it's
true! I'm sure it's true!" She leaned toward the Doctor. "Did you ever
hear of anything like it? Did you, Dr. Carl?" "No." He shook his head, still watching her seriously. "Not exactly
like that, Honey. Don't you think he might possibly have lied to you,
Pat? To excuse himself for the responsibility of Saturday night, for
instance?" "No, I don't," she said defiantly. "Then you have an idea yourself what the trouble is? I judge you have." "Yes," she said in low tones. "I have an idea." "What is it?" "I think he's possessed by a devil!" said the girl flatly. A quizzical expression came into the Doctor's face. "Well, of all the
queer ideas that harum-scarum mind of yours has _ever_ produced, that's
the queerest!" He broke into a chuckle. "Queer, is it?" flared Pat. "I don't think you and your mind-doctors
know as much as a Swahili medicine-man with a mask!" She leaped angrily to her feet, stamped viciously into the hall. "Devil and all," she repeated, "I love him!" "Pat!" called the Doctor anxiously. "Pat! Where are you going, child?" "Where do devils live?" Her voice floated tauntingly back from the
front door. "Hell, of course!" 17

Witch-Doctor


Pat had no intentions, however, of following the famous highway that
evening. She stamped angrily down the Doctor's steps, swished her way
through the break in the hedge with small regard to the safety of her
sheer hose, and mounted to her own porch. She found her key, opened the
door and entered. As she ascended the stairs, her fit of temper at the Doctor passed, and
she felt lonely, weary, and unutterably miserable. She sank to a seat
on the topmost step and gave herself over to bitter reflections. Nick was gone! The realization came poignantly at last; there would be
no more evening rides, no more conversations whose range was limited
only by the scope of the universe, no more breath-taking kisses, the
sweeter for his reluctance. She sat mournfully silent, and considered
the miserable situation in which she found herself. In love with a madman! Or worse--in love with a demon!