The little Frenchman gave a noncommittal shrug. "I would not go so far as that. We sometimes draw the limits of the natural too close. I am persuaded that she suffers from no infection known to biologists, and equally convinced her illness will not yield to ordinary medicine. Eh bien, since that is so we must resort to extraordinary means. The good young Dr. McCormick is with her, and will keep us posted as to her condition. Meantime, we shall do what we can—"
"Ah, but what can you do?" Mr. Pappalukas broke in. "You admit that medicine is powerless—"
"Perfectly, Monsieur, but did you hear me say that Jules de Grandin is helpless? Mais non, it is quite, otherwise, I do assure you. I am of infinite resourcefulness, me, and if I do not find a way to aid your charming daughter I shall be astonished. Yes, certainly."
"I suppose you've worked out a theory?" I ventured as we drove toward home.
"Not quite a theory; let us rather say an hypothesis," he answered: "To begin, the young McCormick gave us a clue when he told us he had read Wholbrück. I know that one, me; I have read him carefully and cursed him roundly."
"Cursed him? Why?"
"Because he is a fool, by blue; because he will not believe what he sees. He is like the rustic who visited the zoo and on beholding a rhinoceros declared that notwithstanding he was looking at him there was no such animal. Consider, if you please: Time out of mind it has, been believed in the Levant that gusel vereni, sometimes called 'the Angels' Disease,' sometimes the 'false consumption,' is not an illness in the usual sense of the term, but the result of demoniacal possession. In olden days it was more common, but in our time it is met often enough for Wholbrück to have made mention of it. And what does he say of it, I ask you? That its cause is unknown, and biochemistry is unable to isolate its infective agent. You see, he willfully shuts his eyes to the possibility of anything but physical causation. He will not even go so far as to say, 'It is believed by the peasants to be caused by demoniacal possession.' Not he! He says imply that its cause is unknown. Parbleu, a fool he is, a bigoted, blind fool.”
"You mean you think that Anastasia is possessed by a demon?" I asked incredulously.
"Not necessarily. It would be sufficient if she thought herself possessed."
"If she thought—good Lord, man, what are you driving at?"
"Just this, my old one: Thoughts are very potent things. The African witch-doctor tells the native of the Congo, 'I have put a spell on you,' and straightway the poor fellow sickens, grows weak and dies. In Polynesia the same thing occurs. We have innumerable instances of natives being 'prayed to death' by pagan priests despite the efforts of the missionaries to prevent it. Have not our doctors borne repeated testimony of the potency of voodoo magic in Haiti, and does not the Pennsylvania farmer believe that a hex put on him can cause illness, even death? But of course.
"Veyr well, then. Let us assume Mademoiselle Anna believes herself possessed, believes that she, as the old saying has it, is 'called;' that she must surely fade away and die, and nothing can be done about it. Why should she not die in such circumstances? It is not difficult to think yourself into an illness, even a fatal one, as you know from experience with hypochondriacs in your practice."
"That's so," I admitted, "but why should she think herself possessed?"
"Because of Monsieur Timon the Deceased. He cursed her, then committed suicide. In many parts of Greece it is still thought that suicides become vrykolakas at death, and you will recall he swore she should be destroyed by such an one."
"What the devil is a vrykolakas?"
"He is a species of vampire, not a true one, but something quite similar. The vampire is an animated corpse who steals forth from his grave to suck the blood of his victims. The vrykolakas is a disembodied spirit who subtly drains his victim of vitality, and he, my friend, is said to be the cause of gusel vereni.
"Très bon, let us review the evidence: First, we have a long and intimate asso-
