“I did see him. It was a vague, shadowy form, but I recognized him. He came into my room from Eunice’s room. He paused at my bedside and leaned over me, as if for a farewell. He said nothing--and in a moment he disappeared. But I know it was Sanford’s spirit taking flight.” “This is interesting, but I can’t discuss it further now. I have heard of such cases, but never so directly. But my duty now is to Mrs. Embury. I fear she will have a nervous breakdown. May I ask you, Miss Ames, not to talk about you--your vision to her? I think it disturbs her.” “Don’t you tell me, doctor, what to talk to Eunice about, and what not to! I brought up that girl from a baby, and I know her clear through! If it upsets her nerves to hear about my experience last night, of course, I shall not talk about it to her, but trust me, please, to know what is best to do about that!” “Peppery women--both of them!” was Dr. Harper’s mental comment; but he only nodded his head pleasantly and went to Eunice. “If you’ve no objections, I’ll call Marsden here at once,” he said, already taking up the telephone. Eunice listlessly acquiesced, and then the doctor returned to Embury’s bedroom. He looked carefully about. All the details of the room, the position of clothing, the opened book, face down, on the night table, the half-emptied water-glass, the penciled memorandum on the chiffonier--all seemed to bear witness to the well, strong man, who expected to rise and go about his day as usual. “Not a chance of suicide,” mused the doctor, hunting about the room and scrutinizing its handsome appointments. He stepped into Embury’s bathroom, and could find nothing that gave him the least hint of anything unusual in the man’s life. A chart near the white, enameled scale showed that Embury had recorded his weight the night before in his regular, methodical way. The written figures were clear and firm, as always. Positively the man had no premonition of his swiftly approaching end. What could have caused it? What could have snapped short the life thread of this strong, sound specimen of human vitality? Dr. Harper could find no possible answer, and he was glad to hear Ferdinand’s voice as he announced the arrival of Dr. Marsden. The two men held earnest consultation. The newcomer was quite as much mystified as his colleague, and they marveled together. “Autopsy, of course,” said Marsden, finally; “the widow must be brought to consent. Why does she object so strongly?” “I don’t know of any reason except the usual dislike the members of the family feel toward it. I’ve no doubt she will agree, when you advise it.” Eunice Embury did agree, but it was only after the strenuous insistence of Dr. Marsden. She flew into a rage at first, and the doctor, who was unacquainted with her, wondered at her fiery exhibition of temper. And, but for the arrival of Mason Elliott on the scene, she might have resisted longer.