“I might have guessed as much!” he said. “He has rendered her immune to the suggestion. You see, the trance was induced easily enough. As I thought, she was accustomed to being hypnotized by that mirror and the mere sight of it was almost sufficient. Without that, I should certainly have failed to hypnotize her at all, for Breidenbach would assuredly have impressed upon her the suggestion that she could be hypnotized by no one but himself. He has furthermore guarded himself by impressing upon her that the suggestion of being anybody but Ottilie Rosenhagen will suffice to break the trance. He cannot be sure that such an impressionable subject may not be hypnotized, possibly by a chance accident--such things occur--in his absence. But he can be sure that any counter-suggestion on the vital matter will defeat itself--as we have just seen.” “But can no one remove the suggestion?” cried Vincent. He glared around the room, clenching his fist. “The infernal scoundrel! By God, I’ll kill him!” He fingered the revolver, in the holster strapped to his belt. Chassaigne laid a restraining hand upon him. “If you do--you will in all probability kill the only man in the world who can replace the factitious personality of Ottilie Rosenhagen by the real personality of Hélène Courvoisier!” Vincent stared at him. “Do you mean that?” “He certainly can remove the suggestions he has himself made. It is doubtful whether any other can.” “He must be forced to do it! We must inform the authorities!” “Agreed, my dear fellow!” Chassaigne’s voice was soothing. “But we must first get evidence--real evidence--that this young woman is not Ottilie Rosenhagen but Hélène Courvoisier. What evidence have we got now that we could put up before a tribunal? None. Merely your alleged recognition, as against her own emphatic denial that she is the person you maintain. And at the present time not even the most cunning cross-examination could elucidate the fact that she had ever known the French language. Ottilie Rosenhagen does not know French--and, at this moment, to all intents and purposes, she _is_ Ottilie Rosenhagen!” “Then we must get hold of him ourselves!” “He will simply laugh at us as madmen--apply to have us removed from his house. No, my dear fellow, we cannot force the pace. Wait. Be patient. Arouse no suspicion in his mind. Our opportunity will come, be sure of that. The real personality of Hélène Courvoisier is there all the time, latent. I am confident that we shall--somehow--succeed in bringing it to the surface again.” The young man shuddered. “I wish I could see how!” he said, hopelessly. “You will see it. I guarantee it,” said Chassaigne, forcing his cheerfulness. “Now, come away out of this house. We will go into Mainz, dine, spend the evening at a café, and forget it--or talk it over, as you will. We can do nothing more now.” He smiled at him. “Come! As your superior officer, I command you!”