"You gave a passable imitation of it, then! However, that's beside the point; as I say, I don't hold you responsible for aberrations which I believe are beyond your control. The main thing is a diagnosis." "Do you know what it is?" cut in Pat eagerly. "Not yet--at least, not for certain. There's only one real method available; these questions will get us nowhere. We'll have to psychoanalyze you, young man." "I don't care what you do, if you can offer any hope!" he declared vehemently. "Let's get it over!" "Not as easy as all that!" rumbled Horker. "It takes time; and besides, it can't be successful with the subject in a hectic mood such as yours." He glanced at his watch. "Moreover, it's after midnight." He turned to Nicholas Devine. "We'll make it Saturday evening," he said. "Meanwhile, young man, you're not to see Pat. Not at all--understand? You can see her here when you come." "That's infinitely more than I'd planned for myself," said the youth in a low voice. "I'd abandoned the hope of seeing her." He rose and moved toward the door, and the others followed. At the entrance he paused; he leaned down to plant a brief, tender kiss on the girl's lips, and moved wordlessly out of the door. Pat watched him enter his car, and followed the vehicle with her eyes until it disappeared. Then she turned to Horker. "Do you really know anything about it?" she queried. "Have you any theory at all?" "He's not lying," said the Doctor thoughtfully. "I watched him closely; he believes he's telling the truth." "He is. I know what I saw!" "He hasn't the signs of praecox or depressive," mused the Doctor. "It's puzzling; it's one of those functional aberrations, or a fixed delusion of some kind. We'll find out just what it is." "It's the devil," declared Pat positively. "I don't care what sort of scientific tag you give it--that's what it is. You doctors can hide a lot of ignorance under a long name." Horker paid no attention to her remarks. "We'll see what the psychoanalysis brings out," he said. "I shouldn't be surprised if the whole thing were the result of a defense mechanism erected by a timid child in an effort to evade responsibility. That's what it sounds like." "It's a devil!" reiterated Pat. "Well," said the Doctor, "if it is, it has one thing in common with every spook or devil I ever heard of." "What's that?" "It refuses to appear under any conditions where one has a chance to examine it. It's like one of these temperamental mediums trying to perform under a spot-light." 23 Werewolf Pat awoke in rather better spirits. Somehow, the actual entrance of Dr. Horker into the case gave her a feeling of security, and her natural optimistic nature rode the pendulum back from despair to hope. Even the painful black-and-blue mark on her arm, as she examined it ruefully, failed to shake her buoyant mood.