rd to let Mrs. Wilford get out of my sight too long. If I ever get at the bottom of this thing, it must be through study of her, first. I think I shall be ready soon to visit her again. And this time, I'm sure, I shall find out what I want. I've a new plan. Don't disturb me for a few minutes." I turned my back and pretended to be busy over some work of my own, though out of the corner of my eye I watched him. Craig was at work over  a sheet of paper and I saw him writing down one word after another, changing them, adding to them, taking away words and substituti
ng others. Altogether, it was a strange performance and I had not the faintest idea what it was all about until he was willing to reveal it to me. Meanwhile a thousand ideas whirled through my head. Chase's revelation had put a new face on matters. One by one, we were finding out that each of our suspects knew first of all more about the Freud theory of dreams than we anticipated. Now it would appear that each was more or less familiar with the Calabar bean, or at least
with its derivative, physostigmine. Even Vina, being a doctor's wife, might have known. Though we were getting more facts, they were not, so far as I could interpret them, pointing more definitely in any one direction. When Craig had finished, he copied the words off on my typewriter, in a long column, one word on each line, and, after t
he long vertical list, he left two columns blank: 1 2 3 foot gray dream struggle ship bean lion book false voyage money sad quarrel marry bull sleep foolish despise finger friend serpent face chair bottle glass "Now," he remarked, as he finished and saw my questioning look, "let me get my delicate split-second watch from this cabinet, and I'm ready for a new and final test of Honora Wilford. Let's go." XIV THE "JUNG" METHOD On the way to the Wilford apartment, which was not very far away, Craig explained briefly what it was th
at he wanted me to do for him. "You saw that list of words?" he asked. "Yes, and the columns opposite." "Precisely. I want you to write in them the answers that I get. You will understand as we go on. I'll hold this watch and note the time—and then we can put the two together, the answers and the reaction time." It seemed simple enough and we chatted about other things connected with the case as we walked along to the apartment. Honora Wilford showed some surprise at seeing us again, yet I fancied she was in a better mood than previously, since the obnox
ious McCabe was no longer so much in evidence. "What is it that I can do for you now?" she asked, rather abruptly, though her manner showed that her surprise was, after all, very mild. Evidently Doyle had accustomed her to being quizzed and watched. It was not a pleasant situation,  even to be watched and quizzed by Kennedy, yet she seemed to realize that he was making it as easy as possible. "Just another little psychological experiment," Craig explained, trying to gloss it over. "I thought you wouldn't mind." Honora looked at him a moment doubtfully.
"Just why are you so interested in studying me, Professor Kennedy?" she asked, pointedly, yet without hostility in her tone. It was a rather difficult question to answer, and I must admit that I could scarcely have met it adequately myself. However, it took more than that to give Kennedy a poser. "Oh," he replied, quickly, with an engaging airiness, "as a psychologist I'm interested in all sorts of queer things—things that must often seem strange to other people. Perhaps it's highbrow stuff. But for a long time—and not in connection with you at all, Mrs. Wilf
ord—I've been interested in dreams." He paused a moment, moving a chair for her, and I could see that he was observing the effect of the statement on her. She did not seem to show any emotion at all over it, and Kennedy went on. "Often I've studied my own dreams. I find that if, when I wake in the morning, I immediately try to recollect whether I have dreamed anything the night before or not, I invariably find that I have. But if I do something else—even as simple a thing as take a bath or shave—unless the dreams were  especially vivid, they are all gone w