“Answer me. Did François direct you to commit suicide? I demand an answer.” “I refuse to speak of this matter.” Finding himself powerless to draw from that unconscious mind the answer he had hoped to get, Dr. White turned to Mrs. O’Brien, his face but thinly veiling the disappointment he felt. “Say nothing of this latter question to the girl,” he cautioned, “it would only serve to distract her.” He turned to the girl, and once more making a pass before her eyes, directed, “Wake up.” Sana opened her eyes, rose to an upright position and slowly gazed blankly about her. Then recalling where she was and for what purpose she had come, a more tranquil look crept into her eyes. After Sana had recovered herself, Dr. White requested that she and Mrs. O’Brien call the following day. To this they readily consented and the appointment was made. After Mrs. O’Brien and the girl had left the office, Doctor White sank into a chair, muttering “Strange--very strange.” For a long time he sat there, with his head bowed in deep thought. Suddenly, he stood up, saying half aloud, “Professor Grant. That’s the man for this.” Going to his telephone he called up the professor’s home. “Hello, Grant. This is White. Can you possibly be at my office tomorrow noon? I wish you would come. I have a most interesting case on my hands--most interesting.” A pause, then, “You will? Fine. I knew I could rely upon you. At noon, sharp.” The following day Sana and Mrs. O’Brien went to the doctor’s office. He and Prof. Grant were waiting for them. Dr. White introduced Prof. Grant, adding for Sana’s benefit, “Prof. Grant can be trusted. I am sure he will be able to help you. Just do as he asks, and everything will come out all right.” Sana smiled pleasantly at Prof. Grant, who taking her by the hand said, “I shall put you under a hypnotic spell, and while under its influence you must answer each and every question I put to you. It is very important and necessary that you do so, for your own benefit. A cure cannot be effected until you have spoken as you are bidden. Remember that.” “I shall do as you say. Yes, I will. I want to be cured for the sake of François.” Little did she dream what the outcome would be. Sana, of course, knew nothing of the diabolical schemes of de Rochelle. The victim of hypnotic influence can never recall to mind, while conscious, what took place during a trance. Prof. Grant was a powerfully built man, with a heavy black beard and a pair of black eyes that seemed to seek the innermost recesses of the soul. Taking Sana’s wrist he gazed into her eyes with a stare that ever increased in piercing power and concentration. At first her glance met his frankly, but within a fleeting moment of time, before she could realize what was happening, Sana closed her eyes, and with relaxing muscles sank back in her chair--totally under the magic spell woven by those piercing eyes.