"Look here!" Gordon lifted his arm, drew back the sleeve and displayed a bandage, the cryptic significance of which was intolerable. "I came into the bathroom this morning looking for my razor," he said. "I found Evelyn just on the point of using my best shaving implement for some feminine purpose--to cut out a pattern, or something. Like many women she can't seem to realize the difference between a razor and a butcher-knife or a pair of shears. "I was a bit irritated, and I said: 'Evelyn, how many times have I told you not to use my razors for such things? Bring it here; I'll give you my pocket-knife.' "'I'm sorry, Jim,' she said. 'I didn't know it would hurt the razor. Here it is.' "She was advancing, holding the open razor toward me. I reached for it--then something warned me. It was the same look in her eyes, just as I had seen it the day she nearly ran over me. That was all that saved my life, for I instinctively threw up my hand just as she slashed at my throat with all her power. The blade gashed my arm as you see, before I caught her wrist. For an instant she fought me like a wild thing; her slender body was taut as steel beneath my hands. Then she went limp and the look in her eyes was replaced by a strange dazed expression. The razor slipped out of her fingers. "I let go of her and she stood swaying as if about to faint. I went to the lavatory--my wound was bleeding in a beastly fashion--and the next thing I heard her cry out, and she was hovering over me. "'Jim!' she cried. 'How did you cut yourself so terribly?'" * * * * * Gordon shook his head and sighed heavily. "I guess I was a bit out of my head. My self-control snapped. "'Don't keep up this pretense, Evelyn,' I said. 'God knows what's got into you, but you know as well as I that you've tried to kill me three times in the past week.' "She recoiled as if I'd struck her, catching at her breast and staring at me as if at a ghost. She didn't say a word--and just what I said I don't remember. But when I finished I left her standing there white and still as a marble statue. I got my arm bandaged at a drug store, and then came over here, not knowing what else to do. "Kirowan--O'Donnel--it's damnable! Either my wife is subject to fits of insanity----" He choked on the word. "No, I can't believe it. Ordinarily her eyes are too clear and level--too utterly sane. But every time she has an opportunity to harm me, she seems to become a temporary maniac." He beat his fists together in his impotence and agony. "But it isn't insanity! I used to work in a psychopathic ward, and I've seen every form of mental unbalance. My wife is _not_ insane!" "Then what----" I began, but he turned haggard eyes on me.