“Oh, Bart, you’re too extravagant in your flattery!” “It’s no flattery, Elsie, dear.” But of a sudden she saw a cloud stealing over his face as he gazed upon her. “What is it?” she asked, quick to feel every changing mood of his. “Oh, nothing—nothing,” he answered; but after a moment he embraced her and held her as if fearful that she would slip away from him. It was in truth this fear which had found lodgment in his heart. For the first time he had been seized by a feeling of apprehension lest he might lose her ere she could become wholly his. What was this strange weakness that had come upon her and clung to her in spite of everything? Always she had seemed a bit ethereal, as if not wholly of this world; and now a singular, terrifying fancy took hold of Bart. It seemed to him that some envious lover of the spirit world had laid claim to her and was seeking to win her from him. His active fancy pictured this unseen lover slowly but surely drawing her to him. As this fancy ran through his mind Bart was silent, but of a sudden he hoarsely cried: “He shall not have you!” Elsie was startled. “Bart!” she exclaimed. “He shall not have you!” repeated Bart. “You are mine! I’ll not let him take you from me!” “Are you losing your reason?” she asked. “No, no, Elsie! You are mine! Look, sweetheart, I seem to see a demon, a spirit, or something that is striving to wrest you from me. That is why you are weak and you do not grow stronger. Elsie, you love me! Fight against this unseen power that is seeking to part us—fight it with all your remaining strength! Will that you shall grow strong. If you do not, dearest girl, I’m afraid the monster may conquer! Fight, Elsie—fight for your life and for my love!” Never had she seen Bart in such a mood. He clung to her as if fearing he would lose her at once if he relaxed his hold. “Bart—dear Bart, it is a silly fear. Shake it off.” “Promise me you will fight against him!” urged Hodge huskily. “I promise.” “Then make up your mind to get well and strong as soon as you can. It’s the only way. Throw off this weakness. You must, dear Elsie—you must!” She repeated her promise, but still he could not get over the feeling of apprehension and dread that had assailed him. CHAPTER XXXII. THE PRICE OF A LEG. Fred Fillmore boarded a car and sprang off at the Auditorium. He went directly to the box office, where he made certain inquiries that led him to take another car, which he left and walked briskly to the Rennart Hotel. “Please send my card up to Mr. Hashi,” he said to the clerk. Ten minutes later he was received in one of the rooms of the hotel by a suave, smiling little Jap, who did not look particularly formidable, yet who had the movements of a panther coupled with that animal’s grace. “What can I do for you, most honorable sir?” inquired the Jap. “You are Mr. Hashi, the great Japanese master of jujutsu, I believe?”