"My maid told me so. You see my dream was so extraordinarily vivid--I'll give you the details in a minute--that, as soon as I awakened, I rang for Jeanne and questioned her. 'Jeanne,' I said, 'you know the red dress that I have not worn since my husband died?' She looked at me in a queer way and said: 'Madame is laughing at me. Madame knows quite well that she wore the red dress last night.' Then she recalled everything in detail, how I sent her to a particular shelf where this dress was folded away and got her to freshen up a ribbon and press the skirt where it was wrinkled. Jeanne is also positive that I put on my black hat. Then, she says, I went out; I left the house at five minutes to nine and came back about eleven. There is no doubt about it." "And you remember nothing of all this?" "Nothing. So--so you see," she faltered, then she leaned impulsively toward the doctor. "As an expert will you please tell me if it is possible for a woman to act like that unless her mind is affected?" Dr. Owen tried to take this lightly. "I'm a fairly sane citizen myself, but if you asked me which suit I wore yesterday, I couldn't tell you." "You couldn't suddenly put on red clothes without knowing it, if you had been wearing black clothes for years, could you?" she demanded. He laughed. "When it comes to clothes I might do anything. I might wear a straw hat in January. But I couldn't go out of the house without knowing it. Do you mean to tell me you don't remember going out of the house last night?" "I certainly do not. I remember nothing about it. I would have sworn that I went to bed early," she insisted. "Hm! Have you any idea where you went?" "Yes--I know where I went, but I only know this from my dream. I know I went to Captain Herrick's studio. You--you can ask him." "Of course. You haven't asked him yourself--you haven't telephoned, have you?" "No, no! I would be ashamed to ask him." The doctor noted her increasing agitation and the flood of color mounting to her cheeks. "Steady now! Take it easy. Have you any idea what you did at the studio, assuming that you really went there?" Penelope hesitated, biting her lips. "I know what I saw myself do in the dream. I acted in an impossible way. I--I--here is a little thing--you know I never smoke, but in the dream I did smoke." "Have you ever smoked?" "Yes, I did when my husband was living. He taught me. He said I was a better sport when I was smoking a cigarette." "But you haven't smoked since your husband's death?" "Not at all. I have not smoked once since he died, not once--until last night." The man of science eyed her searchingly. "Mrs. Wells, you are not hiding anything from me, are you?" "No! No! Of course not! Don't frown at me like that--please don't. I am trying my best to tell you the truth. I _know_ these things did not happen, but--"