"Ah," he shouted eagerly, defying, as the memories came crowding into his brain, the doubts which had freshly assailed him. "I told you it might be possible! And he did have, after all--for that man was the father of her child!" "Whose child?" Julia gasped. But love and pity for her whom he could not name kept him from answering. And in the drift of his silence the vision capriciously failed him. He looked at Julia. He looked back at the wall. It was nothing but a funny old picture which hung there confronting them. The commonplaceness, beside it, of Julia's long-drawn expression made him snicker, until, as a result of this accidental reaction, they were both actually giggling aloud. He turned away from her. She watched him cross to the bureau. He pulled out each one of the drawers in turn. He peered blankly into them, where there was only the smell of mold and whirring dust to greet his pains. He persistently scanned the room again. What had become of the hat-tub? Why had the Chinese water-jug gone from the squalid little wash-stand? Baffled and solemn, he went back over to her. "Haven't you taken some things away?" "Nothing. Not even so much as a splinter. What are you trying to find?" Timidly catching her hand he cried: "Come with me, please." And he drew her to the closet door. But when he opened it, he let go her hand in his amazement. A slit of window at the far end let in a ray of sun. There were rows and rows of wooden hooks, but there seemed nothing on them. Steeling himself boldly to view it, he turned to where there might have dangled that calico bag stuffed with pieces against which the stranger had leaned. He went forward and felt over the empty spaces to satisfy himself. "Yes, Julia," he slowly brought out, "you are right; it was a dream--a mystery." And he nodded vacantly to her. "If only, Jack, you could remember it all!" She stretched out her arms to him. But just as she was coming nearer, he caught sight of something lying between them on the floor. He darted for it, picked it up, and ran with it out of the shadow. Then, in terror, he saw that it was a piece of crumpled gray chiffon, and that there were the stains of blood upon it. VENGEANCE IS MINE[10] BY VIRGIL JORDAN From _Everybody's Magazine_ [10] Copyright, 1915, by The Ridgway Company. Copyright, 1916, by Virgil Jordan. A psychologist has said that most dreams indicate some deep fear or some deep wish that lies dormant in the dreamer. One curious thing about this is that the psychologist was a German. Another is that none of my companions in the dugout at Le Prêtre seemed to find in my experience anything entirely new to them. I leave you to judge which it was--fear or desire--that came to light in me in the trenches of Pont-à-Mousson.