Possible Werewolf Motivations I. Involuntary lycanthropy. 1. Must have blood to drink (connection with vampirism?). 2. Must have secrecy. 3. Driven to desperation by contemplating horror of own position. II. Voluntary lycanthropy. 1. Will to do evil. 2. Will to exert power through fear. III. Contributing factors to becoming werewolf. 1. Loneliness and dissatisfaction. 2. Hunger for forbidden foods (human flesh, etc.). 3. Scorn and hate of fellow men, general or specific. 4. Occult curiosity. 5. Simon-pure insanity (Satanist complex). Are any or all of these traits to be found in werewolf? _Find one and ask it._ * * * * * That was quite enough lycanthropy for the present, so far as I was concerned. I drew a book of Mark Twain from the shelf--I seem to remember it as _Tom Sawyer Abroad_--and read all the morning. Noon came, and I was about to ask the judge's negro servant for some lunch, when he appeared in the door of the study. "Someone with a message, sah," he announced, and drew aside to admit Susan Gird. I fairly sprang to my feet, dropping my book upon the desk. She advanced slowly into the room, her pale face grave but friendly. I saw that her eyes were darkly circled, and that her cheeks showed gaunt, as if with strain and weariness. She put out a hand, and I took it. "A message?" I repeated William's words. "Why, yes." She achieved a smile, and I was glad to see it, for both our sakes. "Judge Pursuivant got me to one side and said for me to come here. You and I are to talk the thing over." "You mean, last night?" She nodded, and I asked further, "How did you get here?" "Your car. I don't drive very well, but I managed." I asked her to sit down and talk. She told me that she remembered being in the parlor, with Constable O'Bryant questioning me. At the time she had had difficulty remembering even the beginning of the séance, and it was not until I had been taken away that she came to realize what had happened to her father. That, of course, distressed and distracted her further, and even now the whole experience was wretchedly hazy to her. "I do recall sitting down with you," she said finally, after I had urged her for the twentieth time to think hard. "You chained me, yes, and Doctor Zoberg. Then yourself. Finally I seemed to float away, as if in a dream. I'm not even sure about how long it was." "Had the light been out very long?" I asked craftily. "The light out?" she echoed, patently mystified. "Oh, of course. The light was turned out, naturally. I don't remember, but I suppose you attended to that." "I asked to try you," I confessed. "I didn't touch the lamp until after you had seemed to drop off to sleep." She did recall to memory her father's protest at his manacles, and Doctor Zoberg's gentle inquiry if she were ready. That was all.