Possessed   By: Cleveland Moffett (1863-1926)

by

CLEVELAND MOFFETT

Author of "Through the Wall", etc.

NEW YORK

THE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY

1920

Copyright 1920 by

THE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY

All Rights Reserved

Printed in U. S. A.

DEDICATION

Whatever the defects or limitations of this story, I can assure my readers that it is largely based on truth. Many of the incidents, including the dual personality phenomena, were suggested by actual happenings known to me. The doctor who accomplishes cures by occult methods is a friend of mine, who lives and practises in New York City. Seraphine, the medium, is also a real person. The episode that is explained by waves of terror passing from one apartment to another and separately affecting three unsuspecting persons is not imaginary, but drawn from an almost identical happening that I, myself, witnessed in Paris, France. And the truth about women that I have tried to tell has been largely obtained from women themselves, women in various walks of life, who have been kind enough to give me most of the opinions and experiences that are contained in Penelope's diary. To them I now gratefully dedicate this book.

C. M.

CONTENTS

PAGE

PROLOGUE 1

CHAPTER

I. VOICES 6

II. WHAT PENELOPE COULD NOT TELL THE DOCTOR 18

III. A BOWL OF GOLD FISH 42

IV. FIVE PURPLE MARKS 46

V. WHAT REALLY HAPPENED AT THE STUDIO 53

VI. EARTH BOUND 62

VII. JEWELS 70

VIII. WHITE SHAPES 80

IX. THE CONFESSIONAL CLUB 90

X. FAUVETTE 103

XI. THE EVIL SPIRIT 111

XII. X K C 115

XIII. TERROR 128

XIV. POSSESSED 142

XV. DR. LEROY 149

XVI. IRRESPONSIBLE HANDS 161

XVII. THE HOUR OF THE DREAM 169

XVIII. PLAYING WITH FIRE 179

XIX. PRIDE 192

XX. THE MIRACLE 199

XXI. THE TRUTH ABOUT WOMEN THAT NOBODY TELLS 210

EPILOGUE 252

" Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life. "

PROVERBS, Chapter IV, Verse 23 .

POSSESSED

( June, 1914 )

SCARLET LIGHTS

This story presents the fulfillment of an extraordinary prophecy made one night, suddenly and dramatically, at a gathering of New Yorkers, brought together for hilarious purposes, including a little supper, in the Washington Square apartment of Bobby Vallis her full name was Roberta. There were soft lights and low divans and the strumming of a painted ukulele that sang its little twisted soul out under the caress of Penelope's white fingers. I can still see the big black opal in its quaint setting that had replaced her wedding ring and the yellow serpent of pliant gold coiled on her thumb with two bright rubies for its eyes. Penelope Wells! How little we realized what sinister forces were playing about her that pleasant evening as we smoked and jested and sipped our glasses, gazing from time to time up the broad vista of Fifth Avenue with its lines of receding lights.

There had been an impromptu session of the Confessional Club during which several men, notably a poet in velveteen jacket, had vouchsafed sentimental or matrimonial revelations in the most approved Greenwich Village style. And the ladies, unabashed, had discussed these things.