“Now, now, be reasonable, Mrs. Embury. I know you dislike the idea--most people do--but I think I shall have to insist upon it.” “But you can’t do it, unless I agree, can you?” and Eunice looked at him sharply. “No--but I’m sure you will agree.” “I won’t! I never will! You shan’t touch Sanford! I won’t allow it.” “She’s right!” declared Aunt Abby. “I can’t see, doctor, why it is necessary to have a postmortem. I don’t approve of such things. Surely you can, somehow discover what Mr. Embury died of--and if not, what matter? He’s dead, and nothing can change that! It doesn’t seem to me that we have to know--” “Pardon me, Miss Ames, it is necessary that I should know the cause of the death. I cannot make a report until--” “Well you can find out, I should think.” “I never heard of a doctor who couldn’t determine the cause of a simple, natural death of one of his own patients!” Eunice’s glance was scathing and her tones full of scorn. But the doctor realized the nervous tension she was under, and forbore to take offense, or to answer her sharply. “Well, well, we’ll see about it,” he temporized. “I shall first call in Marsden, a colleague of mine, in consultation. I admit I’m at the end of my own knowledge. Tell me the details of last evening. Was Mr. Embury just as usual, so far as you noticed?” “Of course he was,” said Eunice, biting the words off crisply. “He went to the Athletic Club he’s a candidate for the presidency--” “I know--I know--” “And I--I was at a party. On his way from the club he called for me and brought me home in our car. Then he went to bed almost at once--and so did I. That’s all.” “You heard no sound from him whatever during the night?” “None.” “As nearly as I can judge, he died about daybreak. But it is impossible to say positively as to that. Especially as I cannot find the immediate cause of death. You heard nothing during the night, Miss Ames?” “I did and I didn’t,” was the strange reply. “Just what does that mean?” and Doctor Harper looked at her curiously. “Well,” and Aunt Abby spoke very solemnly, “Sanford appeared to me in a vision, just as he died--” “Oh, Aunt Abby,” Eunice groaned, “don’t begin that sort of talk! Miss Ames is a sort of a spiritualist, doctor, and she has hallucinations.” “Not hallucinations--visions,” corrected the old, lady. “And it is not an unheard of phenomenon to have a dying person appear to a friend at the moment of death. It was the passing of Sanford, and I did see him!” Eunice rose and left the table. Her shattered nerves couldn’t stand this, to her mind, foolishness at the moment. She went from the dining-room into the livingroom, and stood, gazing out of the window, but seeing nothing. Dr. Harper pushed back his chair from the table. “Just a word more about that, Miss Ames,” he said. “I’m rather interested in those matters myself. You thought you saw Mr. Embury?”