NE night last year in Paris I was strongly impelled to take up a pencil and write, though What I was to write about I had no idea. Yielding to the impulse, my hand was seized as if from the outside, and a remarkable message of a personal nature came, followed by the signature X. The purport of the message was clear, but the signature puzzled me. The following day I showed this writing to a friend, asking her if she had any idea who X was.