The trouble deepened in his eyes, and his voice took on a more fretful tone: “I do not know, I tell you the truth, I do not know—but it is something about that combination, and—Aunt Hattie; sometimes I can almost see it; but before I can quite grasp it, it is gone. I believe that I shall go insane, if I cannot get the thing off my mind.” James reached over and laid his hand on the other’s shoulder affectionately: “Don’t worry, old fellow! It will all come out right! Did you ever try to bring the vision before you by concentrating your mind upon the fragment which you seem to catch—not at first trying to get any further—and thus ascertain how much of the shadow you can make real? When you have proved that the haunting remembrance is not wholly illusory, you can then step by step trace back to that which evades you. Henry obediently rested his head on the cushion, and drew a long breath or two like a tired sigh. “Well, what do you see?” asked James eagerly. He answered in the tone of a child repeating its lesson: “I see a bright light—” he started up excitedly: “I cannot see anything beyond except a moving shadow—Oh! It is myself that I see!” his voice expressive of intense surprise. “Yes? What are you doing?” James asked, trembling with excitement. “Standing in the middle of the room, repeating the combination aloud—over and over again, making Aunt Hattie repeat it after me.” “Where is Aunt Hattie?” “In her sitting room.” “How do you see this?” “It is like a picture! This is that which has eluded me for days—I see it plainly now.” “Repeat the scene just as it has been enacted before.” Henry slowly arose from his chair, and walked to the center of the room; here he paused undecidedly. “Well, what is wrong?” Very slowly he answered, “I do not know—I—do—not—know.” James looked puzzled; at last he asked: “Do you mean that you cannot do again that which you have before accomplished—that some peculiar condition is wanting?” Henry merely repeated helplessly, “I—do—not—know; it is all dark! I cannot find—Aunt—Hattie!” in tone of great distress. James looked perplexed: “Sit down in your chair,” he said. Henry obeyed, and presently James awoke him; he stretched out his arms, yawning sleepily. “I feel awfully tired, suppose we go to bed!” Evidently he had no remembrance of the hypnotic sleep.