amnesia about what he's done, so that even he wouldn't have a clue."
"What if you were to tell him?" the pastor asked cagily. He plucked at an earlobe, a habitual gesture, Karras had noticed, whenever he thought he was being wily.
"I really don't know," repeated the psychiatrist.
"No. No, I really didn't think that you'd tell me." He rose and moved for the door. "Y'know what you're like, you people? Like priests!" he complained.
As Karras laughed gently, the pastor returned and dropped the altar card on his desk. "I suppose yon should study this thing." he mumbled. "Something might come to you."
The pastor moved for the door.
"Did they check it for fingerprints?" asked Karras.
The pastor stopped and turned slightly. "Oh, I doubt it. After all, it's not a criminal we're after, now, is it? More likely it's only a demented parishioner. What do you think of that, Damien? Do you think that it could be someone in the parish? You know, I think so. It wasn't a priest at all, it was someone among the parishioners." He was pulling at his earlobe again. '"Don't you think?"
"I really wouldn't know," he said again.
"No, I didn't think you'd tell me."
Later that day, Father Karras was relieved of his duties as counselor and assigned to the Georgetown University Medical School as lecturer in psychiatry. His orders were to "rest."
CHAPTER TWO
Regan lay on her back on Klein's examining table, arms and legs bowed outward. Taking her foot in both his hands; the doctor flexed it toward her ankle. For moments he held it there in tension, then suddenly released it. The foot relaxed into normal position.
He repeated the procedure several times but without any variance in the result. He seemed dissatisfied. When Regan abruptly sat up and spat in his face; he instructed a nurse to remain in the room and returned to his office to talk to Chris.
It was April 26. He'd been out of the city both Sunday and Monday and Chris hadn't reached him until this morning to relate the happening at the party and the subsequent shaking of the bed.
"It was actually moving?"
"It was moving."
"How long?"
"I don't know. Maybe ten, maybe fifteen seconds. I mean, that's all l saw. Then she sort of went stiff and wet the bed. Or maybe she'd wet it before. I don't know. But then all of a sudden she was dead asleep and never woke up till the next afternoon."
Dr. Klein entered thoughtfully.
"Well, what is it?" Chris asked in an anxious tone.
When she'd first arrived, he'd reported his suspicion that the shaking of the bed had been caused by a seizure of clonic contractions, an alternating tensing and relaxing of the muscles. The chronic form of such a condition, he'd told her, was clonus, and usually indicated a lesion in the brain.
"Well, the test was negative," he told her, and described the procedure, explaining that in clonus the alternate flexing and releasing of the foot would have triggered a run of clonic contractions. As he sat at his desk, he still seemed worried, however, "Has she ever had a fall?"
"Like on the head?" Chris asked.
"Well, yes."
"No, not that I know of."
"Childhood diseases?"
"Just the usual. Measles and mumps and chicken pox."
"Sleepwalking history?"
"Not until now."
"What do you mean? She was walkng in her sleep at the party?"
"Well, yes. She still doesn't know what she did that night. And there's stuff, too, that she doesn't remember."
"Lately?"
Sunday. Regan still sleeping. An overseas telephone call from Howard.
"How's Rags?"
"Thanks a lot for the call on her birthday."
"I was stuck on a yacht. Now for chrissakes lay off me. I called her the minute I was back in the hotel."
"Oh, sure."
"She didn't tell you?"
"You talked to her?"
"Yes. That's why I thought I'd better call you. What the hell's going on with her?"
"What am you getting
"What if you were to tell him?" the pastor asked cagily. He plucked at an earlobe, a habitual gesture, Karras had noticed, whenever he thought he was being wily.
"I really don't know," repeated the psychiatrist.
"No. No, I really didn't think that you'd tell me." He rose and moved for the door. "Y'know what you're like, you people? Like priests!" he complained.
As Karras laughed gently, the pastor returned and dropped the altar card on his desk. "I suppose yon should study this thing." he mumbled. "Something might come to you."
The pastor moved for the door.
"Did they check it for fingerprints?" asked Karras.
The pastor stopped and turned slightly. "Oh, I doubt it. After all, it's not a criminal we're after, now, is it? More likely it's only a demented parishioner. What do you think of that, Damien? Do you think that it could be someone in the parish? You know, I think so. It wasn't a priest at all, it was someone among the parishioners." He was pulling at his earlobe again. '"Don't you think?"
"I really wouldn't know," he said again.
"No, I didn't think you'd tell me."
Later that day, Father Karras was relieved of his duties as counselor and assigned to the Georgetown University Medical School as lecturer in psychiatry. His orders were to "rest."
CHAPTER TWO
Regan lay on her back on Klein's examining table, arms and legs bowed outward. Taking her foot in both his hands; the doctor flexed it toward her ankle. For moments he held it there in tension, then suddenly released it. The foot relaxed into normal position.
He repeated the procedure several times but without any variance in the result. He seemed dissatisfied. When Regan abruptly sat up and spat in his face; he instructed a nurse to remain in the room and returned to his office to talk to Chris.
It was April 26. He'd been out of the city both Sunday and Monday and Chris hadn't reached him until this morning to relate the happening at the party and the subsequent shaking of the bed.
"It was actually moving?"
"It was moving."
"How long?"
"I don't know. Maybe ten, maybe fifteen seconds. I mean, that's all l saw. Then she sort of went stiff and wet the bed. Or maybe she'd wet it before. I don't know. But then all of a sudden she was dead asleep and never woke up till the next afternoon."
Dr. Klein entered thoughtfully.
"Well, what is it?" Chris asked in an anxious tone.
When she'd first arrived, he'd reported his suspicion that the shaking of the bed had been caused by a seizure of clonic contractions, an alternating tensing and relaxing of the muscles. The chronic form of such a condition, he'd told her, was clonus, and usually indicated a lesion in the brain.
"Well, the test was negative," he told her, and described the procedure, explaining that in clonus the alternate flexing and releasing of the foot would have triggered a run of clonic contractions. As he sat at his desk, he still seemed worried, however, "Has she ever had a fall?"
"Like on the head?" Chris asked.
"Well, yes."
"No, not that I know of."
"Childhood diseases?"
"Just the usual. Measles and mumps and chicken pox."
"Sleepwalking history?"
"Not until now."
"What do you mean? She was walkng in her sleep at the party?"
"Well, yes. She still doesn't know what she did that night. And there's stuff, too, that she doesn't remember."
"Lately?"
Sunday. Regan still sleeping. An overseas telephone call from Howard.
"How's Rags?"
"Thanks a lot for the call on her birthday."
"I was stuck on a yacht. Now for chrissakes lay off me. I called her the minute I was back in the hotel."
"Oh, sure."
"She didn't tell you?"
"You talked to her?"
"Yes. That's why I thought I'd better call you. What the hell's going on with her?"
"What am you getting
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