This woman's face was Elaine's. Yet there the resemblance ended. The filmy negligee of his own fiancee was replaced by the rich warmth of a scarlet satin gown and endless yards of white lace ruffles. The creamy skin of his own Elaine's bare arms came back as covered with long white gloves to above the elbows. A perky little hat, of scarlet satin to match the dress, and topped with a huge aigrette plume, rode proudly upon the elaborate coiffure of golden hair. Nor was it only in superficials that the reflection differed. The other woman had a character all her own, too. It showed in the tilt of her head, the way she stood, the expression on her lovely face. But most of all it showed in her eyes. Proud eyes, they were, and intelligent. They looked into Mark's own brown orbs calmly and without flinching. And they were not the eyes of his sweetheart. No. There was an indefinable _something_ lurking deep in their cool blue depths that differentiated the reflection from Elaine. That made the woman in the glass another personality. Similar in many ways, yes. Fundamentally the same kind of person, yes. But not Elaine. Still Mark stared, mouth agape. A feeling was growing within him. A strange conviction that he recognized this other Elaine. "I've seen her before, some place!" he muttered half-aloud. And then Elaine was speaking again. "What is it, Mark? What's happened? Why does that mirror reflect back another woman?" The girl's voice carried a little quaver of bewilderment; of fear, almost. Her whole body trembled as if a chill were running through her. Her voice jerked Mark from his paralysis. He turned sharply. His eyes probed into every corner of the moonlit room, seeking vainly for some clue to account for this impossible phenomenon-- "Mark, I'm afraid!" Even in the dim light of the little chamber the man could see the color drain from his sweetheart's face as she spoke. "I've got the most awful feeling down inside of me, Mark. As if that woman was in another world, and as if she was pulling me away from you and into it. My thoughts--they're not mine; they're hers! My mind's draining out of me. Don't let me go, Mark. Don't let me! I love you, Mark--" "Light! That's what we need!" Mark exploded into action. Sprang toward the wall switch. "Hold on, Elaine. Three hundred watts will drive that damned ghost away--" "... I'm falling! I'm falling! Oh, Mark, I love you so! Mark, help me! _Help!_" * * * * * The girl's voice rose in a scream of wild terror. It tore at Mark's eardrums. Echoed through the stillness of the sleep-bound house like a banshee's wail.