Therese Dumond is, or was, a bubbly, quick-witted young woman. Of late her personality has given way to melancholy. The has become pale and withdrawn, hardly eating and rarely leaving the house during the day.
Most of the time she pretends that nothing is wrong, though on one night she confessed that she felt like she was haunted by an oppressive cloud of death. Kent sent her to an alienist, to no avail.
The other night, he had occasion to telephone her late at night, to ask if he’d left some important papers at her apartment. Receiving no answer, he became concerned and drove to her place, finding her sitting in the living room, alone in the dark. She wore her housecoat, sleeping gown, and slippers, and her skin was cold to the touch. The poor girl appeared to be deep in a trance of some kind, her features frozen in a rictus of terror. When she realized Kent was there, she seemed to snap out of it, only to recoil from him and beg him to leave.