“Is there anything besides your dream that alarms you,” he asked, changing the subject quickly, “any suspicion of—say the servants?”
“No,” she said, watching him now. “But some time ago we caught a burglar upstairs here. He managed to escape. That has made me nervous. I didn’t think it was possible.”
“Anything else?”
“No,” she said positively, this time on her guard.
Kennedy saw that she had made up her mind to say no more.
“Mrs. Hazleton,” he said, rising. “I can hardly thank you too much for the manner in which you have met my questions. It will make it much easier for me to quiet your fears. And if anything else occurs to you, you may rest assured I shall violate no confidences in your telling me.”
I could not help the feeling, however, that there was just a little air of relief on her face as we left.
CHAPTER XXXV
THE PSYCHANALYSIS
“H-m,” mused Kennedy as we walked along after leaving the house. “There were several ‘complexes,’ as they are called, there—the most interesting and important being the erotic, as usual. Now, take the lion in the dream, with his mane. That, I suspect, was Dr. Maudsley. If you are acquainted with him, you will recall his heavy, almost tawny beard.”
Kennedy seemed to be revolving something in his mind and I did not interrupt. I had known him too long to feel that even a dream might not have its value with him. Indeed, several times before he had given me glimpses into the fascinating possibilities of the new psychology.