He spoke with a weariness which the tender inflection of his voice did not disguise from me. He knew already _what was to be done_. It came upon me with a shuddering dread that the only way to destroy his inexplicable power was to destroy its origin. Had he the right to live, and, whether conscious or not, inflict mental suffering and ultimate death on certain unfortunate human beings who strove helplessly to check the overpowering force of the magnetism which flowed from him? That was an affrighting problem. Nor was it made easier by Nora Cazenove’s present amazing attitude. The fiery anguish which convulsed her lithe frame and blazed up in her eyes while she poured forth her woes to me had gone with the mere sight of him. The change was miraculous, as wonderful in its way as the conversion of Pygmalion’s marble goddess into flesh and blood. A moment ago she was the central figure of a tragedy; now she was just a girl hopelessly in love, and she clung to Karl’s arm and gazed up into his face, as they passed before me along the corridor, for all the world as any smitten Phyllis might fondle and adore her Corydon. And then, an astounding thing happened. CHAPTER XIX THE UNBIDDEN GUEST The corridor was a short, broad passage. It was adorned with Raeburn portraits, a Lely or two, and some small Sheraton cabinets laden with rare china--treasures dimly revealed by rays borrowed from the electric lamps in Miss Cazenove’s boudoir. The open door of her room permitted a bright panel of light to fall across the parquet floor. Beyond lay artistic gloom, bounded, as I knew, by the curtained entrance to the suite of apartments given over to the reception. My eyes were fixed directly on Karl’s tall figure and on the magnificent creature, in some wonderful Paris gown worthy of her statuesque proportions, who clung so trustingly to his arm. My thoughts--well, my thoughts were busy enough, but I vouch for it that my mind was clear and my perceptiveness neither alert nor abstracted. Yet, no sooner did I step into the darker area than I saw distinctly a glow, or radiance, emanating from the girl’s bare neck, shoulders, and arms. Imagination played me no trick, or, if I were indeed the victim of fancy, the delusion was extraordinarily accurate in detail, because it seemed that clothing, however slight its substance, choked the feeble gleam. Therefore, only the visible portions of her arms between the semi-diaphanous shoulder-straps and the ends of the long gloves were irradiated. The phosphorescent effect was indescribably beautiful. Of course, in sober reflection, I think phosphorescence a misnomer, being a sheer impossibility, and I am driven to adopt a natural simile in likening it to the pure, green, shining light emitted by the female glow-worm, so-called, to attract the male beetle of its species.