For just one instant of time she did not resist him. Then she jerked herself away, out of his grasp, and he made no effort to prevent her doing so. He sank backward upon his chair as if he were again fully under her influence. He saw that for a moment she turned her back to him, and that she seemed to struggle with herself—and in that instant he recalled the brief interval of hesitation on her part when he had seized her in his arms. He thought no more of it then, although there was to come another time when he would remember it. But that is another story. She turned toward him again, and between his eyelids he could see that she was very pale. She raised her hands and made passes over him, and he permitted himself to sink into a state which had every appearance of being a deep, hypnotic sleep. Having reduced him, as she supposed, to that utterly unconscious and helpless state, she crossed again to the window and looked out. Nick watched her furtively, suddenly possessed with the idea that she was expecting somebody. He saw her start, glance hurriedly toward him, then hasten from the room. Nick remained quietly where he was, not making a move, and in a moment she was back again—but not alone. The identity of the man who accompanied her, notwithstanding the disguise he wore, was instantly apparent to the detective. Jimmy Duryea—Bare-Faced Jimmy—stood just inside the door beside her; Jimmy, perfectly made up to represent a man long past middle age, and French, at that; but, Jimmy, nevertheless. Jimmy was looking down upon the detective with an ironical smile upon his lips, and a self-satisfied air that made the detective long to leap to his feet and seize the fellow. “Look at him,” said Juno, indicating Nick. “I have done what you could not do; I captured Nick Carter. I have made him my slave. I could command him to start for the far North pole, and he would awake and start, nor would he turn back.” “Then for goodness’ sake, Juno, command him to go and drown himself in the Seine,” was the quick reply. “The world will be well rid of him—and I will be able to live in peace. Could you do that, Juno?” “I could.” “And would he obey you?” “He would.” “Then do it. Do it, and we will go to Havre to-night and catch the French line steamer that steams away to-morrow. We will be in New York in six days. Do it. Do it. I have been sorry ever since I arrived that I came here at all. It is too close to old times. I’m not healthy, or healthful, here. I seem to feel a string around my neck, and to see a huge knife falling from above. I am going back, anyhow, whether you go or not, so do it, Juno; do it.” For a moment she was silent. Then she replied: “Go over there and stand near the window, then. Stand with your back this way. Help me, yourself, by saying over and over to yourself, ‘Obey! Obey! Obey! Obey!’ Will you do that, Jimmy?” “Yes. Go ahead.”