"It isn't!" cried Pat. "It isn't!" she repeated, while a quiver of uncertainty shook her. "He's the stronger," she said defiantly. "Then where is he now?" "Dr. Carl will help us!" "Doctor!" sneered the other. "He and his clever theory! Am I an illusion?" he queried sardonically, thrusting his red-glinting eyes toward her. "Am I the product of his puerile, vacillating nature? Bah! I gave you the clue, and your Doctor hasn't the intelligence to follow it!" "Go away!" murmured Pat faintly. The approach of his face had unnerved her, and she felt terror beginning to stir within her. "Go away!" she said again. "Why do you have to torment me? Any one would serve your purpose--any woman!" "You have an aesthetic appeal, as I've told you before," replied the other in that toneless voice of his. "There is a pleasure in the defacement of black hair and pale skin, and your body is seductive, most seductive. Another might afford me less enjoyment, and besides, you hate me. Don't you hate me?" He peered evilly at her. "Oh, God--yes!" The girl was shuddering. "Say it, then! Say you hate me!" "I hate you!" the girl cried vehemently. "Will you go away now?" "With you!" "I'll scream if you come any closer. You don't dare touch me; I'll call Dr. Horker." "You'll only damage _him_--your lover." "Then I'll do it! He'll understand." "Yes," said the other reflectively. "He's fool enough to forgive you. He'll forgive you anything--the weakling!" "Go away! Get away from here!" The other stared at her out of blood-shot eyes. "Very well," he said in his flat tones. "This time the victory is yours." He backed slowly toward the steps. Pat watched him as he moved, feeling a surge of profound relief. As his shadow shifted, her key gleamed silver at her feet, and she stooped to retrieve it. There was a rush of motion as her eyes left the form of her antagonist. A hand was clamped violently over her mouth, an arm passed with steel-like rigidity about her body. Nicholas Devine was dragging her toward the steps; she was half-way down before she recovered her wits enough to struggle. She writhed and twisted in his grasp. She drove her elbow into his body with all her power, and kicked with the strength of desperation at his legs. She bit into the palm across her mouth--and suddenly, with a subdued grunt of pain, he released her so abruptly that her own struggles sent her spinning blindly into the bushes of the hedge. She turned gasping, unable for the moment to summon sufficient breath to scream. The other stood facing her with his eyes gleaming terribly into her own; then they ranged slowly from her diminutive feet to the rumpled ebony of her hair that she was brushing back with her hands from her pallid, frightened face. "Obstinate," he observed, rubbing his injured palm. "Obstinate and unbroken--but worth the trouble. Well worth it!" He reached out a swift hand, seizing her wrist as she backed against the bushes.