"She's a highly nervous girl," he said, "and subject to strange hallucinations. I am a nerve specialist. Cases like this interest me. Her condition is well known to her uncle. He asked me to call and see her. It is a curious coincidence that I should meet her under these tragic circumstances. You had better get her home at once. My automobile is at your disposal."
CHAPTER XII.
Three weeks passed and Paula still felt the terrible shock of little Annie's death. The sad affair had made such an impression on her sensitive nature that she was compelled to give up her Settlement work temporarily if not altogether. For days she was haunted by the wretched mother's agonized face; that shrill scream of despair still rang in her ears.
For some time she had been thinking of leaving town and going somewhere for a rest. Certainly she needed it. Her nerves were all unstrung; she felt more low-spirited and depressed than ever. With her music and her books she tried to shake off the melancholy that weighed upon her, but without much success. The book dropped from her listless hands and she found herself incapable even of thinking, her mind constantly filled with a vague, indefinable feeling of uneasiness.
Both Mr. Ricaby and Tod tried their best to cheer her up, insisting that there was nothing to worry about. It was ten months now since her uncle was appointed administrator of her estate. In two months more his guardianship would be at an end, and she would be legally entitled to come into her own. Yet, in spite of this reassurance, strange misgivings seized the girl. What new move were her uncle and Bascom Cooley contemplating? She had heard nothing of them for weeks, but that in itself meant nothing. Under the peculiar circumstances, such silence was, perhaps, all the more suspicious.
Why had her uncle spoken to this Dr. Zacharie, the nerve specialist, about her? How frightened she had been that fatal afternoon in Mrs. Hughes' attic when she first saw the doctor. As he stood staring at her, with those black, piercing eyes and sardonic smile of his he looked exactly like the terrible man in her dream. Of course, that was silly, but she could not overcome her first aversion to the man. Since the accident he had called at the boarding house several times on the pretense of inquiring after her health, and on each occasion she noticed that he looked at her strangely. Why did he come so often—by what right did he stare at her and question in that searching, inquisitional manner? In future, she would not allow it. She would resent it as an intolerable impertinence. If he came again she would refuse to see him.
One afternoon she was home, alone. The weather was stormy and had spoiled a little shopping excursion arranged with one of her Settlement friends. At a loss what to do in order to kill time, she thought she would practice a little, so going to the piano, she played a few bars. This soon tired her. Finding she had no mind for music, she picked up a book and tried to read. But she found it impossible to become interested. For some reason she could not explain she felt nervous and ill at ease. Depressing fancies came crowding into her brain. There was nothing particularly to worry about, yet something within told her that a critical moment in her affairs was fast approaching. She was growing more and more uncomfortable, when suddenly there came a rap at the door. Nervously she jumped up, wondering who it could be. Surely Mrs. Parkes would not knock, and she had not heard the front doorbell.
"Come in," she called out timidly.
The door opened and Dr. Zacharie appeared on the threshold, bowing and smiling.