"Listen now," said the doctor. "'Sir, my life is in your hands; but as to my body, in relation to that which you would persuade me to, my soul shall sooner be separated from it, through the violence of your arms, than I shall condescend to your request.'" "And what more do you want?" asked Beverton, excitedly. "The very words I spoke; and I never saw that book." "Wait," said the doctor, smiling. "This follows: "'Captain Morgan, understanding this her heroic resolution, commanded her to be stripped of the best of her apparel, and imprisoned in a darksome, stinking cellar; here she was allowed a small quantity of meat and drink, wherewith she had much ado to sustain life.' "No need of reading the whole account," said the doctor, closing the book. "This occurred in the city of Panama, which Morgan had just captured, and the lady was never at sea with him. His men took her from Tavoga or Tagovilla, and he released her on the march from Panama to the coast. He did not kill her." "Then why should I hate her as a baby?" "I do not know. Children have strange antipathies, and while very young are much in the subjective state." "But the sailor talk; where did she get it? Where did I get that quotation you just read?" "Telepathy," said the doctor. "It is the subconscious mind which projects and reads thoughts. You were both subjective from an inherent tendency and the influence of that shiny knife on the wall. Your fear of punishment and bedtime prayers were a strong auto-suggestion against somnambulism; but the knife overcame it in your case, and your wife never met with any deterrent influence whatever. Now, Beverton, one of you--it makes no difference which--has read the mind of the other, and this one has read the mind of some strong, projective personality--some man or woman thoroughly enthused and interested in the history of the seventeenth-century pirates--some one who has lately read this book, and other accounts of Morgan's adventures." "And the scimitar-like shape of the knife--the sea-story by Cooper?" "Coincidences, both of them--and suggestions." Beverton was silent a few moments, then said with a weary sigh: "I cannot convince myself. I wish I could. It is strong evidence, as you say, toward telepathy, but does not disprove reincarnation. How did she find that knife in the snow? It was dark. I did not know where it fell." "Your subconscious mind knew. So did hers. It was merely clairvoyance." The doctor rose. "It does not disprove, I admit, Beverton," he said; "and if you must know, you can only learn by experimenting farther. The knife, fork, and steel are at the bottom of the river, as you directed. But you can hypnotize her by other means." "Not for the world," said Beverton. "I guess I'll wait until she walks in her sleep again, if I experiment any more."