“Yes,” answered Leroy with a significant tightening of the lips, “and one of the causes is fear. People die suddenly of fear, doctor.”
“Referring to Mrs. Wells and her bad dreams?”
“Precisely. If you had seen her last night—after midnight—watching the clock with dark, furtive glances, watching, waiting, as the hands approached half past twelve, you would understand what fear can do to a woman. That is Mrs. Wells' worst symptom, she is afraid—not all the time but intermittently.”
Owen leaned forward in concentrated attention.
“Why was she in such a state at half past twelve rather than at any other time?”
“Because the change in her takes place then, the change into her other personality.”
“Fauvette? You saw her—in that personality?”
“Yes. I saw her. Besides, she told me about it in advance. She knows what is going to take place, but is powerless against it. Every night at exactly half past twelve there comes a violent period that lasts until one o'clock. Then she falls into a deep sleep, and a dream begins, always the same dream, a horrible dream that terrifies her and drains her life forces. She had this dream last night, she will have it again tonight, and again tomorrow night. She believes that she will die tomorrow night, just as her friend died!”
“Good God! What a pity!” exclaimed Owen. “Why does she think she is going to die tomorrow night?”
“Her Voices tell her so, and she believes them.”