"That's no reporter's rap. There is authority in that," remarked Mrs. Joyce, as she hurried to the door. A very tall man with a long gray beard stood there. "Good-day, madam," he began, in a husky voice. "I hear that my friend, Mrs. Ollnee, is sick, and I've come to see about it. I'm her friend these many years and of her faith, and I think I can be of some assistance." Mrs. Joyce dimly remembered having seen him in the house before, so she replied, very civilly, "Mrs. Ollnee lies in what seems to be deep trance, although the doctors say that life is extinct." "Will you let me see her?" he inquired. "I know a great deal about these conditions. My daughter was subject to them." "You may come in," she said, for his manner was gentle. "This is her son, Victor." Victor was vexed by the stranger's intrusion, but could not gainsay Mrs. Joyce. "My name is Beebe, Doctor Beebe," he explained. "Mrs. Ollnee has given me many a consoling message, and I believe I've been of help to her. You're her son, eh?" "I am," replied Victor, shortly. "You were the vein of her heart," the old man solemnly assured him. "Her guides were forever talking of you. And now may I see her?" Mrs. Joyce, after a moment's hesitation, led him to the door of the room and stood aside for him to enter. After looking down into the silent face for a long time he asked, in stately fashion, "May I make momentary examination of the body?" Mrs. Joyce glanced at Victor. "I see no objection to your feeling for her pulse or listening for her breath." "I wish to lift her eyelids," he explained. "You must not touch her!" Victor broke forth. "Two doctors have examined her already. Why should you?" "Because I, too, am one of the mystic order. I am a healer. Life's mysteries are as an open book to me." As he spoke a folded paper appeared to develop out of thin air above the bed, and fell gently upon the coverlet. Mrs. Joyce started. "Where did that come from?" The healer smiled. "From the fourth dimension." Calmly taking up the folded paper, he opened it. "This is a message to you, young man." "To me?" Victor exclaimed. "From whom?" "It is signed 'Nelson.'" "Let me see it!" demanded Mrs. Joyce. "What does it say?" asked Victor. Mrs. Joyce handed it to him. "Read it for yourself. It is from your grandfather." He read: "_Your mother is with us, but she will return to you for a little while. Her work is not yet ended. Your stubborn neck must bow. There is a great mission for you, but you must acquire wisdom. Learn that your plans are nothing, your strength puny, your pride pitiful. We love you, but we must chastise you. Do not attempt to leave the city._ "_NELSON._" As he stood reading this letter it seemed to Victor that a cold wind blew upon him from the direction of his mother's body, and his blood chilled. "This is some of your jugglery," he said, turning angrily upon Beebe.