Once or twice he seemed to look me in the eye. He made a zigzag to my chair. There he paused and listened. I ceased to breathe. Only six feet separated us. But impatience consumed him. "Tell me where you are!" he growled, "or by the Lord when I catch you I'll tear you limb from limb." I breathed while he spoke and ceased when he stopped. "You can't escape me!" he snarled. "I've only to light my blue lamp and I'll find you in a minute. But if you put me to that trouble and make me waste my precious oil besides, well, look out, that's all!" I clenched and unclenched my hands; the use of them was coming back to me. "Very well," said Belleville. He passed my chair and stalked to the other end of the room, where he opened a cabinet. I moved slowly and painfully to the very centre of the room. Then I stood stock still. Belleville, returning, paused within a foot of me. He carried a bull's-eye lanthorn. This he put upon the table, and presently he struck a match. A moment later a round shaft of intense blue radiance shot across the room and marked a moon-shaped sphere on the wall. It began to flit along the wall, up and down from the very floor to the height of a man's chest, until it touched the corner. Then it flashed back twice over the same path, and afterwards attacked the next wall. Sooner or later it would be bound to encounter and, perhaps, discover me. But Belleville was only a few feet off. Perhaps if I sank down the shaft would pass over me without touching. At least I could try. Suppressing a shriek of agony, I crouched upon my hands and knees. Then came another thought. Slowly and laboriously I began to crawl nearer and nearer to my enemy. The blue shaft was now shooting right over my head. I crept behind him and, breathing noiselessly, stood up. If I had possessed a tithe of my strength I might have reached out and caught his neck and strangled him with ease. But I dared not risk it. All on a sudden he uttered an oath. The lamp had gone out. "Damn the thing!" he growled. Putting down his revolver on the table, he opened the lamp and peered in at the smoking wick. We were now face to face and his cocked weapon lay within eighteen inches of my hand. I tried my fingers and found that they were reasonably supple. The blood was streaming through the puffy veins and vesicles. The operation hurt horribly; in fact, I was one mass of crude, raw, painful man flesh. But now I was full of hope and despite the muscular torments of returning animation I felt that my vigour was returning. Belleville snuffed the wick and struck a match along the table. The head came off. He took another and rubbed it on the sole of his shoe, stooping slightly to do so. As he moved I reached out and twined my fingers round the hilt of his revolver. But I had not the strength to lift it up. I cannot paint the agony of that experience. I exerted every atom of my will, but my hand was like a putty puppet. Tantalus never suffered torture half as keen.