“Yes,” replied the physician. “Barnard hypnotized her by means of sensorial excitement. I suspected as much because earlier this evening, I found Janet in a trance in the Chinese room, and before entering that room I heard the sound of a gong.” “She struck the gong herself,” gasped Marjorie. “Unconscious self-hypnotism,” commented Potter. “Probably Barnard used musical instruments, or perhaps the regular ticking of a clock to magnetize her so frequently that the law of repetition had its way when she heard the vibrations. I brought her back to her normal condition by placing my hand to the nape of her neck. Tell me,” he walked over and planted a hearty kick in the small of Barnard’s back. “What means did you use to awaken Janet?” “Breathed on her forehead and eyes,” mumbled the half-conscious man. Quickly Potter aroused Janet. She shivered, and turned and stretched out her hands to Tom. “Take me away,” she said. “Oh, Tom, I asked you at dinner to protect me from myself. I’m not well--I tell you, I’m not well,” and she shook as with an ague. Utterly regardless of the others’ presence, Tom gathered her in his strong arms. “I shall always guard you, my darling,” he promised tenderly. “No one shall come between us, and you will never be tormented again. Come with me.” Barnard staggered to his feet and tried to intercept the lovers. Janet cowered back at his approach. “Don’t let him touch me,” she pleaded piteously. “He says I’m a kleptomaniac, and that I must steal, steal----” a shudder of repulsion shook her. “He threatened to tell, he threatened to tell. Am I a kleptomaniac, Tom, dear Tom, am I a kleptomaniac?” Her eyes were alight with horror. “No, no, my darling; you are only the dearest and best sweetheart in the whole world”--Tom’s voice quivered, and he held her close. “But, Tom, I did find other people’s jewelry in my possession sometimes, and how did I get it unless I was a kleptomaniac?” Janet raised both hands to her throbbing temples and burst into a storm of tears. “Go in the library with Nichols, Janet,” broke in Potter. “He will explain away your--nightmare.” Tom nodded understandingly as he caught the physician’s warning glare, and he gently led Janet out of the room. Barnard tried to slide after them, but Duncan pulled him back and closed the hall door. “State what you have to say to us,” he ordered, “and be brief.” “And suppose I refuse to make a statement?” replied Barnard sullenly, nursing his bruised and bleeding face. “You will have plenty of time to think it over in jail.” “Ah, then you intend to prosecute?” “Did you doubt it?” Duncan’s eyes hardened; it was only by exerting the utmost self-restraint that he kept his hands off Barnard, so great was his fury at the latter’s treatment of his sister. “Have you counted the cost of publicity?” inquired Barnard, with cool effrontery. Some of his habitual composure was returning to him.