"Who plays the violin for him?" he asked, curtly.
Mrs. Jack answered him at once. "Signorina Molatti. You know her by reputation?"
"Yes," he answered; "I have heard her play. She has a touch of genius. They must make great music together--Molatti and your friend."
A lump came into my throat and I clutched the arms of my chair awkwardly. That Dr. Woodruff had noticed my emotion, I felt sure.
"Well, what is your explanation of all this, doctor?" I asked, impatiently. I was thoroughly out of harmony with myself, Mrs. Jack and the physician, and my pride revolted at the false position in which I had been placed. A skeptic who goes to a clergyman for guidance sacrifices both his logic and his dignity. Here I sat in Dr. Emerson Woodruff's office, under an assumed name, telling a stranger weird tales about a supposititious acquaintance who was in reality my own husband. Had I not been unfair to Tom, Dr. Woodruff and myself? Surely the road to truth is not through a zigzag lane of lies!
"My dear madam," began the doctor, in his most pompous manner, "the case as you have stated it is unique in the annals of what I take the liberty to call the new science--new, that is, to the Western world. To the brooding East, the introspective, sapient, miracle-working Orient, there would be nothing strange or inexplicable in what your--er--friend calls his 'seizure.' I have seen in India phenomena that, should I describe them to you, would wholly destroy what little confidence you have in my veracity and common sense. May I ask why you have come to me, madam? You have no faith in the school to which I am devoted."
His voice had grown suddenly stern, and I avoided his gaze in confusion. The ease with which he had read my thoughts offended and frightened me.
"It's my fault, Dr. Woodruff," cried Mrs. Jack, loyally; "I persuaded her to come. I have been over the jumps before, and I rather like the course. But it's pretty stiff going at first, you must acknowledge."
To my surprise, Dr. Woodruff laughed aloud. His merriment restored my equilibrium, and I hastened to explain.
"Won't you believe me, doctor, when I say that I have not come to you in an antagonistic mood? I am intensely interested in the problem we have laid before you--and I feel sure you can help us to read the riddle. We have a friend who has no music in his soul. Suddenly, he begins to play Chopin like a master. Then he develops a fondness for duets. We fear the future. Presently, he will begin to neglect his business and his---and--"