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X K C

We come now to what has been regarded by some authorities as the most remarkable feature in the case of Penelope Wells, a development almost without parallel in the records of abnormal psychology. All books on this subject record instances of jealousy or hostility between two recurring personalities in the same individual. A woman in one personality writes a letter that humiliates her in another personality. A little girl eats a certain article of food while in one personality simply because she knows that her other personality hates that particular food. And so on. It almost never occurs, however, that an evil personality will commit an act or a crime that is abhorrent to the individual's fundamental nature. Neither through hypnotism nor through any manifestation of a dual nature will a person become a thief or a murderer unless there is really in that person a latent tendency towards stealing or killing. There is always some germ of Mr. Hyde's bloodthirstiness in the benevolence of Dr. Jekyll.

But Penelope Wells, under the domination of her Fauvette personality, now entered upon a course that was certain to bring disgrace and sorrow upon a man she loved with all her heart, a man for whom she had risked her life on the battle field. Here is one of those mysteries that will not be cleared up until we better understand these strange and distressing phenomena of the sick brain or the sick soul.

In presenting this development it must be mentioned that Dr. William Owen was not only a specialist on nervous diseases but a chemist of wide reputation in the field of laboratory investigation. For a year and a half preceding the end of the war he had held a major's commission in the army and had spent much time in a government research laboratory, studying poison gases.

In August, 1918, he had discovered a toxic product of extraordinary virulence, not a gas, but a tasteless and odorless liquid containing harmful bacteria. These bacteria showed great resistance against heat and cold and were able to propagate and disseminate themselves with incredible rapidity through living creatures, rats, earth worms, birds, cattle, dogs, fleas, that might feed upon them or come in contact with them. The deadliness of this product was so great, as appeared from laboratory tests, that it was believed all human life might be exterminated in a region intensively inoculated (from airplanes or guns) with the liquid. This was only a possibility, but it was an enormously important possibility.

A report on this formidable discovery had been prepared by Dr. Owen for the Washington authorities with such extreme secrecy that the chemical formula for the liquid had been indicated simply by the letters X K C, the product being referred to as X K C liquid. Moreover, the only person, except Dr. Owen, in possession of the full facts touching this discovery was Captain Herrick who had assisted the doctor in his investigations. Herrick had been cautioned to guard this secret as he would his life, since there was involved in it nothing less than the possibility of preventing future wars through the power of its potential terribleness.

The bearing of all this upon our narrative was presently made clear as the conflict developed between tortured Penelope and the psychic in Roberta Vallis' studio.

For some moments the two women eyed each other in hostile silence, which was broken presently by the sound of footsteps in the hall.

“Ah! Here comes your doctor!” mocked the fair creature on the divan. “Now watch Fauvette!”

The door opened and Dr. Owen, followed by Herrick, both grave-faced, entered the apartment.

Christopher turned anxiously to Seraphine: “What has happened? Is she better?”

Mrs. Walters shook her head, but when the young officer looked at Penelope his fears were lessened, for she (was it from dissimulation or weariness?) gave no indication of her recent frenzy, but seemed to be resting peacefully against the cushions.

“Let's have a little more light here,” said Dr. Owen, and he turned on the electrics. “I'm afraid you have overtaxed your strength, Mrs. Wells.”

Penelope answered gently with perfect self-possession: “I'm afraid I have, doctor, I'm sorry to give you so much trouble.” And she smiled sweetly at Herrick.

The specialist drew up a chair and studied his patient thoughtfully. There was an added austerity in his usual professional manner.

“Captain Herrick tells me that you made some rather strange remarks just now?” he said tentatively.

Mrs. Wells met him with a look of half amused understanding.

“Did I?” she answered carelessly, and as she spoke she took up a pencil and made formless scrawls on a sheet of paper. “I suppose he refers to my calling him a fool. It is a little unusual, isn't it?”

She laughed in a mirthless way.

“Why did you do it?”

“I haven't any idea.”

“And you spoke unkindly to Seraphine? That isn't like you.”

“No? How do you know what I am like?” she answered quickly, her hand still fidgeting with the pencil.

Dr. Owen observed her attentively and did not speak for some moments. Seraphine and Christopher drew their chairs nearer, as if they knew that the tension of restraint was about to break.

“You must realize that you have been under a great strain, Mrs. Wells,” resumed the doctor, “and you are tired—you are very tired.”

Her answer came dreamily, absent-mindedly: “Yes, I am tired,” and, as she spoke, Penelope's tragic eyes closed wearily. But her fingers still clutched the pencil and continued to move it over the white sheet.

“Look!” whispered Seraphine, “she is making letters upside down.”

“That's queer!” nodded Owen. “She is writing backwards—from right to left. Hello!” He started in surprise as he saw, on bending closer, that Penelope had covered the sheet with large printed letters—X—K—C, written over and over again.

Greatly disturbed, Dr. Owen roused his patient and questioned her about this; but she insisted that she had no idea what she had written or what the letters meant. A little later, however, she acknowledged that this was not true.

“What! You did know what you wrote?” the scientist demanded. His whole manner had changed. His eyes were cold and accusing. He was no longer a sympathetic physician tactful towards the whims of a pretty woman, but a major in the United States Army defending the interests of his country.

“This is a very serious matter, Mrs. Wells, please understand that. You told me just now that you did not know what you wrote on the sheet of paper?”

Penelope faced him scornfully. Her cheeks were flushed. Her bosom heaved.

“I said that, but it wasn't true. I lied to you. I did know what I wrote.”

“You know what those letters mean?”

“Yes, I do!”

“What do they mean?”

“They mean some kind of poison stuff that you have made for the army.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me,” she turned to Captain Herrick who had listened in dumb bewilderment.

“How can you say such a thing?” Chris protested.

“Because it's true,” she flung the words at him defiantly.

The young officer went close to her and looked searchingly into her eyes.

“Think what you are saying,” he begged. “Remember what this means. Remember that—”

She cut in viciously: “You shut up! I have no more use for you. I tell you it's true.”

“Don't believe her, doctor,” interposed Seraphine: “She is not responsible for what she says.”

“I am responsible. I know exactly what I am saying.”

“It is not true, sir,” put in Captain Herrick. “May I add that—”

“Wait! Why are you confessing this, Mrs. Wells?”

Like a fury Fauvette glared at Christopher.

“Because he turned me down. I'm sore on him. He's not on the level.”

“Not on the level? Are you speaking of him as a lover or an officer?”

“Both ways. He's not on the level at all.”

“Oh, Penelope!” grieved the heartbroken lover.

She eyed him scornfully. “You needn't Penelope me! I said I have no use for you. A Sunday school sweetheart! Ha! I'll tell you something else, doctor, I'm not the only one who knows about your X K C stuff.”

“Mrs. Wells,” Dr. Owen spoke slowly, “are you deliberately accusing Captain Herrick of disloyalty?”

“Yes, I am.”

Herrick stiffened under this insult, white-faced, but he did not speak.

“He meant to sell this information—for money,” she added.

“My God!” breathed Christopher.

“Captain Herrick told you this?”

“Yes, he did. He said we would go abroad and live together—like millionaires. You did! You know damned well you did,” she almost screamed the words at Herrick, then she sank back on the divan exhausted, and lay still, her eyes closed.

The doctor's face was ominously set as he turned to his young friend.

“Chris, my boy, I need not tell you that I cannot believe this monstrous accusation. At the same time, I saw Mrs. Wells write down those letters that are only known to you and to me. I saw that with my own eyes—you saw it, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you heard what she said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Under the circumstances, as your superior officer, I don't see how I have any choice except to—”

Here Mrs. Walters interrupted: “May I speak? It is still possible to avert a great disaster.”

The doctor shook his head. “You have heard Mrs. Wells' confession. No power on earth can prevent an investigation of this,” he declared with military finality.

Seraphine's lips moved in silent prayer. Her face was transfigured as her eyes fell tenderly upon the white-faced, tortured sleeper.

“No power on earth, but—God can prevent it,” she murmured and moved nearer to Penelope whose face was convulsed as if by a terrifying dream. Then, with hands extended over the beautiful figure, the psychic prayed aloud, while Herrick and the doctor, caught by the power of her faith, looked on in wondering silence.

“God of love, let Thine infinite power descend upon this Thy tortured child and drive out all evil and wickedness from her. Open the eyes of these men so that they may understand and be merciful. Oh, God, grant us a sign! Let Thy light descend upon us.”

Captain Herrick has always maintained that at this moment, as he watched his beloved, his heart clutched with horrible forebodings, he distinctly saw (Dr. Owen did not see this) a faint stream of bluish radiance playing over her from the direction of Seraphine, and enveloping her. It is certain that Penelope's face immediately became peaceful and the convulsive twitchings that had shaken her body ceased.

“Look!” marvelled Christopher. “She is smiling in her sleep.”

Seraphine turned to Dr. Owen, with radiant countenance.

“It is God's sign. Come! Penelope will awaken soon and must find herself alone with her lover. It will be the real Penelope. You will see. Let us draw back into the shadows. You stay near her,” she motioned to Herrick, then turned down the lights except a yellow-shaded lamp near the sleeper.

And, presently, watching with breathless interest, these three saw Penelope stir naturally and open her eyes.

“Why, how strange!” she exclaimed. “I must have gone to sleep. Why did you let me go to sleep, Chris?” she questioned her lover, with bright, happy eyes in which there was no trace of her recent perturbations of spirit.

“It's all right, Pen,” he said reassuringly. “You were a little—a little faint, I guess.”

She held out her hand lovingly and beckoned him to her side.

“Sit by me here. I had such a horrible dream. I'm so glad to see you, dear. I'm so glad to be awake. Oh!” She started up in embarrassment as she saw that her dress was disarranged. “What's the matter with my dress? What did I do? What has happened? Tell me. You must tell me,” she begged in confusion.

“Don't worry, sweetheart,” he soothed her. “It was the excitement of all that talk—that ass of a poet.”

Penelope passed her hand over her eyes in a troubled effort to remember. It was pathetic to see her groping backwards through a daze of confused impressions. The last clear thing in her mind was exchanging rings with her lover. How long had they been here? What time was it? What must Roberta think of them, staying up in her apartment all alone?

Christopher assured her that what Roberta thought (she and her gay friends were still dancing downstairs) was the very least of his preoccupations, and he was planning to turn his sweetheart's thoughts into a different channel when Seraphine came forward out of the shadows followed by Dr. Owen.

“Why, Seraphine!” exclaimed Penelope in astonishment. “Where did you come from? And Dr. Owen?”

Seraphine greeted her friend lovingly and kissed her, but there was unconcealed anxiety in her voice and manner.

“Dear child, something very serious has happened. You were ill and—Dr. Owen came to help you. He wants to ask you some questions.”

“Yes?” replied Penelope, her face paling.

Then the doctor, with scarcely any prelude and with almost brutal directness, said: “Mrs. Wells, I want you to tell me why you accused Captain Herrick of disloyalty.”

Poor Penelope! She could only gasp for breath and turn whiter still. Accuse her dear Christopher whom she loved and honored above all men of any wrong or baseness! God in heaven! If she had done this she wanted to die.

“I—I didn't,” she stammered. “I couldn't do such a thing.”

But the doctor was relentless. “If what you said to me a few minutes ago is true,” he went on coldly, “it will be my duty, as a major in the United States Army, to order the arrest of Captain Herrick for treason against the government.”

At this startling assertion Penelope fell back as if struck down by a mortal wound, and lay still on the couch, a pitiful crumpled figure. The others gathered around her apprehensively.

“You were very harsh, sir,” reproached Herrick.

“It was the best thing for you and for Mrs. Wells,” answered Dr. Owen, bending over his patient, who lay there with dark-circled eyes closed, oblivious to her surroundings. “At least I have no doubt as to her sincerity, I mean as to the genuineness of this shock.”

The doctor was sorely perplexed as he faced this situation. What was his duty? Here was a definite charge of extreme gravity made against a young man of unimpeachable character by the very last person in the world who would naturally make such an accusation, that is the woman who loved him. Must he assume that the patient's mind was affected? The idea that Christopher Herrick could be capable of a treasonable act was altogether preposterous, a thing that Owen rejected indignantly, yet there was the evidence of his own senses. Penelope had written those letters that were not known to anyone except Herrick and himself? And she knew what they meant. How did she know? Was it possible Chris had told her?

But, even so, why had Penelope betrayed and denounced her lover?

At this moment Seraphine turned to the doctor in gentle appeal.

“Don't you see what the explanation is?” she whispered with eloquent eyes.

“It seems to be a case of dual personality,” he answered.

“It's more than that, doctor.”

The scientist moved impatiently, then, remembering what he had seen at Seraphine's apartment, and the recovery of his wife's jewels, he softened the skepticism of his tone.

“You think it is one of those cases you told me about of—possession? That's absurd!”

“Why is it absurd? Doesn't the Bible speak of possession by evil spirits? Is the Bible absurd? Did not Christ cast out evil spirits?”

“I suppose so, but—times have changed.”

“Not in the spirit world. Oh no!”

“Anyway, the thing is not capable of proof.”

“Yes, it is, if you will not shut your mind against the evidence. Oh,” she pleaded, “if you only had faith enough to let Dr. Leroy treat Penelope! What harm could it do? You say yourself this is a case of dual personality. Do you know how to cure that trouble? Do you?” she insisted.

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, “but—that is not the only thing. It must be made clear to me how Mrs. Wells came into possession of an extremely precious secret of the war department.”

The medium's face shone with an inspired light as she answered: “That is the work of an evil entity, doctor, I know what I am saying. You must let me prove it. Look at that young woman—honored by all the world.” She pointed to Penelope resting peacefully. “Think what she has done! Think of her bravery, her kindness, her sincerity. Look at Captain Herrick—the soul of honor! You know him, doctor, I tell you it is impossible that these two are guilty of treason.”

Dr. Owen could not resist the power of this appeal. He was deeply moved in spite of himself. “You say you can prove that Mrs. Wells is possessed by an evil spirit? How can you prove it?”

“Give me permission to take Penelope to Dr. Leroy's hospital for a few days—will you?” she begged. “You will see for yourself that I am right.”

“See for myself? Great heavens! You don't mean to tell me that—?” the doctor stopped short before the vivid memory of those white shapes that this woman once before had so strangely evoked.

Seraphine stood silent in deep concentration, then she said slowly: “Yes, that is what I mean. I believe that God, for His great purposes, will let you see this evil spirit.”