Palos of the Dog Star Pack

It was a miserable night which brought me first in touch with Jason

Croft. There was rain and enough wind to send it in gusty dashes against

the windows. When I heard the doorbell ring, I was tempted to ignore it.

But as it rang again, and was followed by a rapid tattoo of rapping, I

rose, laid aside my book, and stepped into the hall.

First switching on a porch light, I opened the outer door, to reveal the

figure of an old woman.

"Doctor," she began in a tone of almost frantic excitement. "Dr.

Murray--come quick!"

I am Dr. George Murray, in charge of the Mental Hospital in a Western

state. The institution was not then very large, and since taking my

position at the head of its staff I had found myself with considerable

time for study, seeking to learn what I might concerning both the normal

and the abnormal manifestations of mental force.

But I was not thinking of anything like that as I looked at the

shawl-wrapped face of the little bent woman. I said to her, "But, my dear

woman, there are other doctors for you to call. I am really not in

general practice. I am connected with the asylum--"

"And I always said I would come for you if anything happened to Mr.

Jason," she cut in.

"Whom?"

"Mr. Jason Croft, sir," she returned. "He's dead maybe--I dunno. But he's

been that way for a week."

"Dead?"