Her mother, however, had no such consoling certitude. She hid her face in her hands, groaning: “She is possessed! She is possessed! Oh, God, cast out the evil spirit! cast out the evil spirit!” Geoffrey was white to the lips, appalled, unable to utter a sound. The old man stared at her, fascinated, a strange gleam in his eyes. The mother turned to me in despair. “Oh, doctor! Do something--do something!--Oh, if only we had a minister here! She is possessed by an evil spirit! My Pauline! My Pauline!” She sank on her knees by one of the swivel-chairs, gave herself up to agonized prayers. “Oh, God, cast out the evil one! Oh, God, cast out the evil one!” Thinking that this strange incident had already lasted more than long enough, I took a step toward the girl with a vague idea (though I didn’t quite know how) of breaking the hypnosis. She stood looking upward still, with a wheedling, diabolical smile, into apparent nothingness. “We will go together--we two--with the treasure, say, John Dawson?” she murmured seductively, the very incarnation of a Delilah. “Mansvelt is dead--we will run away from Simon and go with my people before they kill us all--they are very many and you can only hold out two-three days--but we might take the treasure, John Dawson, the treasure you and Simon hid with Mansvelt--Simon, we will kill him--and we will go away and be rich--rich, John Dawson--say?” Her voice was perfidiously honeyed, her eyes glistened, as she caressed that uncanny empty air. “What is she talking about?” muttered Geoffrey in a low, excited voice. “Who are these people--Mansvelt and Simon? Have you heard of them, doctor?” I shook my head. They were utterly unknown to me. For a moment I hesitated, fascinated by the little drama, curious to hear more. The mother moaned. “Oh, do something, doctor! do something!--Save her! Save her! Oh, God, deliver her from the evil one!” Her agony recalled me to my professional duty. I started forward but before I could reach her I was snatched back by a violent hand on my shoulder. “Stand aside!” commanded old Vandermeulen in a terrible voice. “Evil spirit or no evil spirit, I guess it knows all about that treasure--and I’m going to hear what it’s got to say!” Of his normal love for his daughter there was not a trace. The man was completely dominated, to the exclusion of any other sentiment, by the lust for gold, more gold. He looked scarcely human as his eyes glowered upon me, murder in them if I thwarted him. “If it’s the Devil himself that’s got her--let her talk!” But the mother sprang up with a wild shriek, rushed toward her daughter. “Do you wish her eternal damnation?” she cried, flinging her arms about the girl. “Pauline! Pauline! For the love of God, don’t you know me?--Oh, say a prayer--say a prayer after me!” She commenced the Lord’s Prayer in a voice that trembled with anguish.