“You are feeling sleepy,” he said in his level, positive voice. “You are going to sleep. My voice is sounding muffled and far away--but you will still hear it. You are losing the sense of your surroundings--but you still see that clock face. You cannot help but see it. And when it strikes eight you are going to tell the truth.” He dropped the hand which fell lifelessly again upon her lap. The young woman sat motionless as a statue. Her breathing changed to the deep respirations of sleep, although her eyes remained wide open. The clock struck eight. At the last of its thin, silvery notes the young woman shuddered. Her lips moved. “My husband sent it to me,” she said in a toneless, dreamy voice. “When?” asked the doctor. “In 1915.” “From whence?” “From the front.” “Do you know the place?” “No.” “You are quite sure?” “Quite sure.” “And all these other things?” “My husband sent them to me.” “From France?” “Yes.” “How did he become possessed of them?” “He took them out of houses.” There was a pause in which the young woman did not move in the slightest. She appeared like some oracular statue waiting for the next question. “Why did you lie to me?” asked the doctor in his level voice. “Because you would have thought my husband a thief, and I am so proud of him.” “Can you be proud of him, knowing that he was a thief?” “Yes,” came the dreamy answer. “It was not his crime. He sent these things to me because I asked him for them and he loved me.” “You asked him to send you these things? Why?” “Because all the other officers’ wives were having things sent to them.” “_So!_ Your husband would not have taken them if you had not asked for them?” “No. He only took them to give me pleasure. He never thought of anybody but me. That is why I love him so--why I shall always love him.” The doctor bit his lip, and hesitated for a moment. “You do not think your husband would have offered violence to a woman in the house where he got this clock?” “No. He loved me too much. He never thought of any woman but me. I am sure of it. He was an ideal man, my Heinrich--always gentle, always loving, always faithful.” She paused a moment before continuing. “It is cruel of you to make me realize how much I love him!” The doctor stood over her, contemplating her, his brows wrinkled in a puzzled frown. His comrades looked at him enquiringly. He ignored them. The young woman, having ceased to speak, remained motionless and upright on her chair. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. Suddenly the doctor’s brows cleared in an evident decision. He lifted the young woman’s hand again as he spoke in his level, positive voice. His face was very grave.