"Lying?" Her eyes half closed over slumberous fires. "Do you think Penelope can ever love you as I can--as your Fauvette can? Share her with me or--" she panted, "or you will lose her entirely. Penelope dies tomorrow night, you know that, unless--" Frantically she tried to encircle him with her arms, but Herrick repulsed her. Some power beyond himself was strengthening him. "Oh!" she cried in fury, "you don't deserve to have a beautiful woman. Very well! This is the end!" She darted to the bedroom door and unlocked it. "Come! I'll show you." Deathly pale, she led the way into the sitting-room and, going to Christopher's coat, she drew out a small flask. "There! This is the danger she wrote about. _I know._ Spiritual danger! Ha! I'm going to open this. Yes, I am. You can't stop me." "Don't! It's death!" But already she had unscrewed a metal stopper and drawn forth a small glass vial filled with a colorless liquid. "One step nearer, and I'll smash this on the floor!" she threatened. "If I can't have you, _she_ never shall!" The captain faced her quietly, knowing well what was at stake. "Penelope!" She stamped her foot. "I'm not Penelope. I'm Fauvette. I hate Penelope. For the last time--will you do what I want?" "No!" She lifted the vial. "Stop!" came a masterful voice, and, turning, they saw Dr. Leroy standing in the outer doorway. Back of him were Seraphine and Dr. Owen. "Give that to me." The psychologist advanced toward her slowly, holding out his hands. Fauvette stared at him, trembling. "No! I'll throw it down." His eyes blazed upon her. His outspread arms seemed to envelope her. "You cannot throw it down! Come nearer! Give it to me!" Like a frightened child she obeyed. "Now go into the bedroom! Lie down! Sleep!" Again she obeyed, turning and walking slowly to the bed; but there she paused and said with scornful deliberateness: "You can drive me out now, but I'll come back when she sleeps. I'll make her dream. Damn you! And tomorrow night--Ha! You'll see!" Dr. Leroy's stern gaze did not falter, but compelled Penelope to go back to the couch, where almost immediately her tragic eyes closed in slumber. CHAPTER XVIII PLAYING WITH FIRE What happened on the last day, or rather the last night, of Mrs. Wells' psychological crisis may be regarded either as a purely subjective phenomena, a dream or a startling experience of the soul, or as something that came from without, a telepathic or spiritualistic manifestation. In any case note must be made of the testimony of Dr. William Owen, an extremely rational person, that after midnight on this occasion he distinctly _saw_ scarlet lights moving about the darkened room near Penelope's couch.