The doctor smiled provisionally. “Well, that’s one of the signs you’re not. Can you say how?”
“Oh yes. In a minute,” Alford sobbed, and when he had got the better of himself he told his friend the whole story. In the direct examination he suppressed Mrs. Yarrow’s part, but when the doctor, who had listened with smiling seriousness, began to cross-examine him with the question, “And you don’t remember that any outside influence affected the recurrence of the illusions, or did anything to prevent it?” Alford answered promptly: “Oh yes. There was a woman who did.”
“A woman? What sort of a woman?”
Alford told.
“That is very curious,” the doctor said. “I know a man who used to have a distressing dream. He broke it up by telling his wife about it every morning after he had dreamt it.”
“Unluckily, she isn’t my wife,” Alford said, gloomily.
“But when she was with you, you got rid of the illusions?”
“At first, I used to see hers; then I stopped seeing any.”
“Did you ever tell her of them?”
“No; I didn’t.”