“And your cousin, Ernest Hegel. Is he, too, stopping with you at present?” “No. Cousin Ernest sailed for Germany last Saturday. He is American representative for a Berlin dye and chemical manufacturer, and was sent for by his concern.” “Then he is a German citizen?” “His father was German, but he was born in America, hence he is an American citizen. His mother, like my father and Uncle Gordon, was American, of Holland Dutch descent. Part of his education was received at Heidelberg, and he took a postgraduate course in chemistry and bacteriology in Vienna. When the war broke out, his sympathy for the land of his father was what turned my uncle against him.” “And consequently made you the preferred heir?” “I think that has something to do with it, although I disagreed as thoroughly with Uncle Gordon in his pet hobby, spiritism, as Ernest did on questions of our international relations.” “Do any of the manifestations you speak of occur in the daytime?” “None, except the queer behavior of my dog.” “Hem. You have stated a very interesting case, Miss Van Loan. I, for one, will be very glad to investigate the phenomena which have been troubling you.” “And I will be glad to go, too, if you want me,” I said. The young lady seemed pleased. “I hope that I may have the help of both of you--and soon,” she said earnestly. The doctor turned to me. “How about going this evening?” he asked. “Suits me.” “Good. We can drive out easily in an hour. You may expect us about dusk, Miss Loan.” “You know the address?” “I have visited your uncle several times, and he has also been my guest here.” “To be sure. I have heard Uncle Gordon speak of you. Goodby, until dusk--and thank you, much...” * * * * * Our drive, that evening, through the red-gold light of the waning afternoon, was both pleasant and uneventful. After a sultry day in the loop, it was refreshing to ride through the cool, tree-shaded north shore suburbs. Dr. Dorp, as was his wont when on the trail of a new mystery, was in the best of spirits--laughing and chatting gaily. We arrived in Highland Park just at dusk, and presently turned into a narrow driveway which circled through a heavily wooded estate. At first no house was visible, but presently, as we wound through the darkest and gloomiest copse we had yet encountered, it came unexpectedly into view--an ancient brick homestead of the Dutch Colonial type, with gables that drooped despondently, and chimneys surmounted by double tiles that stood out against the background of gray sky like headless torsos with arms upraised to heaven. As we drew up before the entrance, the noise of the doctor’s motor ceased, and from just beyond the background of trees, there came a throbbing, pulsating murmur which had not previously been audible to us, announcing the proximity of Lake Michigan.