Without a word the Professor lifted up her wrist and felt her pulse. “Now show me your tongue!” She obeyed. He nodded his head, and placed his hand upon her brow. His eyes plunged into hers for one second of searching scrutiny and then he nodded his head again, satisfied. “My dear,” he said, “I haven’t a thermometer here, but I should say you are absolutely normal in every way. Your pulse is a shade rapid, perhaps.”
“Thank you, Professor,” she said, simply. She turned to the others. “You heard what the Professor said? There’s no fever about _me_. Now--listen! I want to tell you something. I’ve been waiting to tell you ever since we sat down to dinner--and now I _must_ tell you! And you mustn’t laugh!--Poppa, this is serious!”
The four men, puzzled at her demeanour, grouped themselves round her. She assured herself of their gravity.
“This evening,” she began, “between five and six o’clock I suddenly developed a dreadful headache. It was so bad that I just had to go to my room and lie down. I went to sleep straight off. And then--then I had a--a dream--only,” she interposed quickly, to hold their interest, “it wasn’t like an ordinary dream. It was so vivid that I felt all the time it _meant_ something. I dreamed that someone or something that I could feel was sort of loving and kind and earnest--_very_ earnest, I could feel that strongly--took me into a room. And, somehow, I knew that the room was in Berlin. It seemed quite a nice room but I don’t remember much about the details of it. I only remember that I saw myself there with two men, one young and dark, the other old and white, who were staring at a girl sleeping in a big armchair. They took not the faintest notice of me, and I didn’t worry much about them. The girl was the interesting thing to all of us--and yet, though I was staring at her with a sort of fascination I couldn’t shake off, I didn’t know why. Then a strange thing happened. The girl kind of faded away--I don’t know how to describe it, because I felt all the time she was still there--and as she faded, there came up the figure of a man. He seemed to grow out of her--to take her place. It was real uncanny. This man that grew out of the girl like a--like a ghost--was somehow more _living_ than any of us. It was as if he were in the limelight and we were in the shadow. I shall never forget his face. It was handsome but _wicked_--mocking--malicious--like a devil. And he had an ugly scar over the right eyebrow which made him look even more devilish----”