"Thank you, Peleg," said the doctor with a look of dismay on his face as he glanced at Fallon. "Here's a dollar for you. Don't say anything about this to a soul."
Mouthing his thanks, the half-wit hastened away. Burton turned to his friend.
"What does it mean?" he asked.
"It means," said the psychologist, "that the sooner we see Miss Marjorie, the better. Come along."
THEY found the girl alone, pale, indicating by her manner lack of sleep and a condition of extreme nervousness. To their questions as to her feelings, she answered listlessly. The psychologist said little, but observed her every move and gesture.
Back at Burton's office, the latter asked:
"Have you formed any conclusion?"
The other shook his head negatively.
"Not as yet. But I can assure you of one thing. There is a cause for her malady that is not altogether pathological. It goes deeper, my boy—we've got to locate it."
On the following day, while the two men were seated again in the doctor's consulting room, Peleg White put in his appearance in a state of extreme agitation. Admitted to the office, he plumped down on the table a grotesque object that resembled nothing the physician could remember having seen in his experience.
"I just come from Miss Marjorie," panted the half-wit. "She wanted I should sell this durn thing for forty cents or less. Said I mustn't take as much even as half a dollar cause she'd paid that for it. Told me not to tell nobody she give it to me, but I reckon I kin tell you. Anyway, who'd give me even a penny for the thing."
"I will," said Fallon, before his friend could speak. "Here's exactly forty cents. Take the money right back to the lady and don't tell her who bought it. Here's a quarter for yourself."
When the creature had departed, Burton turned to his friend with the pain he felt written plainly on his face.
"In God's name," he cried, "what is it?"
Fallon took up the thing and examined it with deep interest. It was a vegetable of some sort, of a sickly flesh color so far as the root was concerned; black mold still clung to it, and when viewed from a certain angle, the root portion bore a most uncanny resemblance to a human body.
"This," said the psychologist, slowly, "is a mandrake. One of the first I've ever seen!"
"Mandrake?" Burton repeated in a puzzled tone.
"Exactly. The one plant concerning which superstition is almost universal. Many books have been written about it. Even Shakespeare refers to it—I think in 'Romeo and Juliet,' where he speaks of 'Shrieks like Mandrakes torn out of the earth'."
The doctor shook his head, shudderingly.
"I can't understand—"
"This much," said the scientist, quickly, "I do understand—we must get back to Miss Marbury at once."
Dr. Burton stared at him in sudden alarm.
"You mean she is worse?"
"I don't think so—but something must be done immediately. I suppose," he added, "you trace the connection between my quotation from Shakespeare, and the story of Peleg about Marjorie at the cemetery?"
"You mean the shriek—that she was pulling this thing from the earth—?"
"It seems likely. But let us be going."
They found Marjorie so greatly improved on their arrival that Dr. Burton, at least, was overjoyed. His friend, however, seemed less impressed by her greater vivacity and the improved color in her cheeks. Seeking an excuse for their return so soon after the previous visit—though the doctor himself was in the habit of calling almost every day—Fallon observed that he had wanted to look at some of the Squire's books which he had noted when they were there before.
"I'm sorry," said the girl, "the Squire is out. But you can make yourself at home there anyway—in the library."
Fallon smiled at her as he expressed his thanks.
Dr. Burton followed him to the door.
"She's better, don't you think?"
"She's seen Peleg," murmured Fallon enigmatically, and left them together.
In the library, quite an extensive one, he browsed among the books, looked at several, rubbed some of the upper edges gingerly with his forefinger and read a few lines from certain volumes. He also examined the contents of a Japanese card tray on a table, slipped one card into his pocket, and made a note on a slip of paper.
When he returned, Marjorie was smiling happily, but, as he gazed into her face, he noted the sudden alteration in her expression. She was staring with increasing horror, past him at the doorway. Dr. Burton noticed the change at the same instant, and rose with a question on his lips. But Professor Fallon, seizing a stick from the corner of the room, slashed viciously at a small pinkish object that was crawling along the floor and through the draperies at the entrance.
The scientist followed, leaving Burton to care for the girl, who had sunk back on the couch, one hand at her heart:
"He lied to me," she whispered, "he lied—"
Then she fainted. As the physician set to work to revive her, sounds of a struggle from the hallway came to his ears and his friend's voice calling his name. He laid the girl gently on the couch and tugged madly at the bell rope. As he tore the curtains aside and rushed out a servant came screaming down the corridor—
"They're killing one another," she cried.
"Go to Miss Marbury," he ordered, and hastened to where Fallon was struggling in the grasp of someone who, in the dim light he could not at first recognize: then he caught a glimpse of the white hair and beard of Squire Broadman, just as the scientist cried out:
"Hurry, for God's sake! Can't you see he's crazy?"
Together they overpowered the maniac and bound him with a cord from the portieres.
"He was in a niche of the wall," explained the psychologist, as he regained his breath. "He jumped on me as I came out."
"What does it mean?" asked Burton.
"First phone for an ambulance to take him away. Then get an order for the arrest of that fellow Valdemar. After that I'll explain. How is Miss Marbury?"
"Fainted—but she will be all right. Wait for me—I'll use the 'phone downstairs."
A few moments later he returned.
"That's attended to. The ambulance is coming, and they'll get Valdemar—it seems they've got enough to hold him on, anyway—obtaining money under false pretenses or something."
Marjorie had fallen into a deep sleep under the ministrations of the psychologist, and Burton drew his friend into the library.
"For heaven's sake," he begged, "tell me what it means."
The other removed from his pocket another of those ill-favored vegetables and laid it on the table: "There," he said, "is the root of the whole matter.
