"We'll try," she murmured, still covering his hand with her own. "What else can we do, Nick?" "What's done I'll do alone, Pat." "But I want to help!" "I'll not let you, Dear. I won't have you exposed to a repetition of those indignities, or perhaps worse!" "I'm not afraid." "Then I am, Pat! I won't have it!" "But what'll you do?" "I'll go away. I'll battle the thing through once for all, and I'll either come back free of it or--" He paused and the girl did not question him further, but sat staring at him with troubled eyes. "I won't write you, Pat," he continued. "If you should receive a letter from me, burn it--don't read it. It might be from--the other, a trap or a lure of some sort. Promise me! You'll promise that, won't you?" She nodded; there was a glint of tears in her eyes. "And I don't want you to wait, Pat," he proceeded. "I don't want you to feel that you have any obligations to me--God knows you've nothing to thank me for! When--If I come back and you haven't changed, then we'll try again." "Nick," she said in a small voice, "how do you know the--the other won't come back here? How can you promise for--it?" "I'm still master!" he said grimly. "I won't be dominated long enough at any time for that to happen. I'll fight it down." "Then--it's good-bye?" He nodded. "But not for always--I hope." "Nick," she murmured, "will you kiss me?" She felt a tear on her cheek. "I'll stand losing you a little better if I can have a--last kiss--to remember." Her voice was faltering. His arms were about her. She yielded herself completely to his caress; the park, the crowd passing a few yards away, the people on near-by benches, were all forgotten, and once more she felt herself alone with Nicholas Devine in a vast empty cosmos. An insistent voice penetrated her consciousness; she realized that it had been calling her name for some seconds. "Miss Lane," she heard, and again, "Miss Lane." A hand tapped her shoulder; with a sudden start, she tore her lips away, and looked up into a face unrecognized for a moment. Then she placed it. It was the visage of Mueller, Dr. Horker's companion on that disastrous Saturday night. 16 Possessed Pat stared at the intruder in a mingling of embarrassment, perplexity, and indignation. She felt her cheeks reddening as the latter emotion gained the dominance of her mood. "Well!" she snapped. "What do you want?" "I thought I'd walk home with you," Mueller said amiably. "Walk home with me! Please explain that!" She grasped the arm of Nicholas Devine, who had risen angrily at the interruption. "Sit down, Nick, I know the fellow." "So should he," said Mueller. "Sure; I'll explain. I'm on a job for Dr. Horker." "Spying on me for him, I suppose!" taunted the girl. "No. Not on you." "He means on me," said Nick soberly. "You can't blame him, Pat. And perhaps you had better go home; we've finished here. There's nothing more we can do or say."