“The young woman is suffering from a temporary dissociation of brain centres. Her cerebrum does not co-act with her cerebellum. In other words, her conscious mind, for lack of means to express itself, is for the time being dormant as in sleep.
“But it is not like ordinary sleep. Such is induced by fatigue of the nerve channels. This young woman's condition is produced by shock; and since there was no physical violence, we must conclude that the shock was psychic.
“In that case, the condition will last until one of two things occurs; either she must be similarly shocked back into sensibility—and I can't see how this can happen, Fenton, unless you can secure the co-operation of the man to whom you attribute the matter—or she must lie that way indefinitely.”
“Indefinitely!” I exclaimed, sensing something ominous. “You mean—”
“That there is no known method of reviving a patient in such a condition. It might be called psychic catalepsy. To speak plainly, Fenton, unless this man revives her, she will remain unconscious until her death.”
I shuddered. What horrible thing had come into our lives to afflict us with so dreadful a prospect?
“Is—is there no hope, Dr. Higgins?”
“Very little”—gently but decisively. “All I can assure you is that she will not die immediately. From the general state of her health, she will live at least seventy-two hours. After that—you must be prepared for the worst at any moment.”
I turned away quickly, so that he could not see my face. What an awful situation! Unless we could somehow lay hands on the Rhamda—
I hunted up Jerome. I said: