"It'll never be easier for me, Dr. Carl." She felt her eyes fill. "I guess I'm--just a fool about him." "You still feel that way, after the experience you went through?" "Yes. Yes, I do." "Then you _are_ a fool about him, Pat. He's not worth such devotion." "How do you know what he's worth? I'm the only one to judge that." "I have eyes," said the Doctor. "What happened tonight to change your attitude so suddenly? You were amenable to reason yesterday." "I didn't know yesterday what I know now." "So he told a story, eh?" The Doctor watched her serious, troubled features. "Would you mind telling me, Honey? I'm interested in the defense mechanisms these psychopathic cases erect to explain their own impulses to themselves." "No, I won't tell you!" snapped Pat indignantly. "Psychopathic cases! We're all just cases to you. I'm a case and he's another, and all you want is our symptoms!" Doctor Horker smiled placatingly into her face. "Pat dear," he said earnestly, "don't you see I'd give my eyes to help you? Don't take my flippancies too seriously, Honey; look once in a while at the intentions behind them." He continued his earnest gaze. The girl returned his look; her face softened. "I'm sorry," she said contritely. "I never doubted it, Dr. Carl--it's only that I'm so--so torn to pieces by all this that I get snappy and irritable." She paused. "Of course I'll tell you." "I'd like to hear it." "Well," she began hesitantly, "he said he was two personalities--one the character I knew, and one the character that we saw Saturday night. And the first one is--well, dominant, and fights the other one. He says the other has been growing stronger; until lately he could suppress it. And he says--Oh, it sounds ridiculous, the way I tell it, but it's true! I'm sure it's true!" She leaned toward the Doctor. "Did you ever hear of anything like it? Did you, Dr. Carl?" "No." He shook his head, still watching her seriously. "Not exactly like that, Honey. Don't you think he might possibly have lied to you, Pat? To excuse himself for the responsibility of Saturday night, for instance?" "No, I don't," she said defiantly. "Then you have an idea yourself what the trouble is? I judge you have." "Yes," she said in low tones. "I have an idea." "What is it?" "I think he's possessed by a devil!" said the girl flatly. A quizzical expression came into the Doctor's face. "Well, of all the queer ideas that harum-scarum mind of yours has _ever_ produced, that's the queerest!" He broke into a chuckle. "Queer, is it?" flared Pat. "I don't think you and your mind-doctors know as much as a Swahili medicine-man with a mask!" She leaped angrily to her feet, stamped viciously into the hall. "Devil and all," she repeated, "I love him!" "Pat!" called the Doctor anxiously. "Pat! Where are you going, child?" "Where do devils live?" Her voice floated tauntingly back from the front door. "Hell, of course!" 17 Witch-Doctor