When the priest appeared the girl was being held down in bed by two women who were forced to put forth all their strength, and as soon as she saw him—he was a complete stranger to her nor could his sacred profession be recognized by his attire—so terrible were her struggles that her husband was bound to lend his aid also to master her writhing limbs. Presently she fell into a state of complete exhaustion, and Father Peach, dismissing the rest of the company, was able to talk to her long and seriously. He seems to have been quite satisfied that it was a genuine case of diabolic possession, and his evidence, carefully expressed and marshalled with great moderation, leave no reasonable doubt that this strange sickness owned no natural origin. In the course of conversation it appeared that she had never been baptized. A simple instruction was given and finding her in excellent dispositions Father Peach at once baptized her. During the administration of this sacrament she trembled like a leaf, and as the water fell upon her she winced pitifully, a spasm of agony distorting her countenance. She afterwards averred that it gave her as much pain as if boiling water had been poured upon her bare flesh. Immediately afterwards there followed a truly remarkable change in her health and spirits; her husband and sister were overjoyed and thought it no less than a miracle. The next day Father Peach visited her again and noticed a rapid improvement. Save for a slight weakness she seemed perfectly restored, and, says the good father, writing a twelvemonth later than the event from notes he had taken at the time, there was no return, nor the least lingering symptom of her terrible and distressing malady. In its issue of 11 October, 1925, _The Sunday Express_, under the heading “Evil Spirit Haunts A Girl,” devoted a prominent column to the record of some extraordinary happenings. The account commences: “Haunted for twelve months and more by a mischievous spirit—called a Poltergeist—driven almost to a state of distraction, threatened with a lunatic asylum, and then cured by the help of a band of spirit Indians, is the extraordinary experience of the nineteen-year-old Gwynneth Morley, who lives with her widowed mother at Keighley, and who was employed in the spinning mills of Messrs. Hay and Wright.” These phenomena were communicated to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who informed Mr. Hewet McKenzie, with the result that the girl was brought to London for psychic treatment, Mr. McKenzie being “honorary principal of the British College of Psychic Science,” an institution which is advertised as the “Best equipped Centre for the study of Psychic Science in Britain,” and announces “Lectures on Practical Healing,” “Public Clairvoyance,” “A Small Exhibition of notable water colours ... representing Soul development, or experience of the Soul in ethereal conditions.” “The College” is, I am given to understand, a well-known centre for spiritistic séances.