"I give you my word," he replied with evident sincerity, "we have had no guests of that name."
His words stupefied me. I lay for a few moments in silence; then I asked: "Where is Dr. Dorrimore?"
"He left on the morning of your fight and has not been heard of since. It was a rough deal he gave you."
V
Such are the facts of this case. Margaret Corray is now my wife. She has never seen Auburn, and during the weeks whose history as it shaped itself in my brain I have endeavored to relate, was living at her home in Oakland, wondering where her lover was and why he did not write. The other day I saw in the Baltimore Sun the following paragraph:
"Professor Valentine Dorrimore, the hypnotist, had a large audience last night. The lecturer, who has lived most of his life in India, gave some marvelous exhibitions of his power, hypnotizing anyone who chose to submit himself to the experiment, by merely looking at him. In fact, he twice hypnotized the entire audience (reporters alone ex-
