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sit up and watch, at least Evelyn did. Nothing happened, of course; it’s impossible to do anything in this house without everybody else knowing about it. I couldn’t work on Sunday or Monday, but I did a few pages on Tuesday, and I absolutely forced myself to do some more on Wednesday! I had to know what was coming! But on Thursday morning I couldn’t stand it; I made Syl get hold of you.”
    On the last page but one Gamadge read:
    â€œOh, it’s such fun just to be alive!” Gloria threw herself into Roy’s arms, and buried her face on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re both alive,” he murmured into her ear.
    THOU ART BUT DEAD; IF THOU HAVE ANY GRACE, PRAY.
    Mrs. Mason, anxiously waiting until he had finished, burst out in a wail: “What is it from, Henry? What is it from?”
    â€œPlay by John Ford; and so’s the other—unless I’m much mistaken.” Gamadge lifted angry eyes to hers. “Keep calm, Florrie. They may very well just be tasteless fooling with your text.”
    â€œLook at the last one.” Mrs. Mason’s tone was the quiet tone of one who is reconciled to the worst. “Look at the last one, and then say it’s tasteless fooling!”
    â€œNow, don t forget that they’re all quotations; I should have thought anybody would know that, just to glance at them.”
    â€œI didn’t know it; and that lets me out, Henry; and besides, I can’t even type!”
    Gamadge turned to the last page. He read Mrs. Mason’s harmless lines, and then the great and terrible words that followed them:
    â€œBut I’m so lonely, Roy, in this great big house.” Gloria clung to him,
    â€œPeople think I have everything, but I’m so lonely!”
    â€œJust you give me a ring, day or night, and I’ll come, he promised tenderly. “I don’t care if it’s three in the morning, I’ll come, and you can talk to me out of the window.”
    â€œOh, it’s wonderful to know that you’re there!”
    WHATSOEVER NOISE YE HEAR, COME NOT UNTO ME, FOR NOTHING CAN RESCUE ME.
    Gamadge, rearranging the pages of Chapter Nine, said in a voice of cold disgust: “Marlowe; Doctor Faustus .”

CHAPTER THREE
Being of Sound Mind
    A glimmer of satisfaction could be observed in Mrs. Mason’s eye; she had sampled her Compendium of Useful Knowledge, was sure that it contained the answers to all her problems, and now prepared to buy it: “Henry, you know everything. I’ll give you five thousand dollars if you’ll find out who put those quotations into my book, and why they did it.”
    â€œFair enough.” Gamadge laid Chapter Nine on his knees, gave Mrs. Mason a cigarette, and lighted it and his own. “But I never may find out, you know. Crime in the family circle—it often goes unpunished, you know. I’m certain of one thing, Florrie; you didn’t do it. All these authors didn’t lie buried in your unconscious.”
    â€œDo you think automatic writing is just what is in your mind all the time?” She asked it wistfully.
    â€œI do. Many people disagree with me.”
    â€œSally Deedes is sure it’s spirits; but she’s psychic, and I’m not.”
    Gamadge frowned. “What has transformed that once sceptical and frivolous creature? She used to be as materialistic as anybody I ever knew in my life.”
    â€œShe’s had so much trouble, Henry; with Bill, you know. I managed to make her divorce him at last, but she’s still broken-hearted. After a year! The occult takes her mind off him.”
    â€œLet her take the medicine that agrees with her, but let her not hand it on to you. That medicine doesn’t agree with everybody.” He added, removing his cigarette to look at her sharply: “You don’t think the spirits annotated your script, do you?”
    â€œSometimes I hardly know what to think; I’d rather think that than