“They shall not have you,” she breathed. “I am fighting. I am holding my own. There are eight of them—eight Assassins! My mind is in battle with theirs—fiercely in battle.... I hold my own! I am armed and waiting!” With a convulsive movement she drew his head closer to her shoulder. “Eight of them!” she whispered,—“trying to entrap and seize my brain. But my thoughts are free! My mind is defending you—you, here in my arms!” After a breathless silence: “Look out!” she whispered with terrible energy; “they are after _your_ mind at last. Fix your thoughts on me! Keep your mind clear of their net! Don’t let their ghostly fingers touch it. Look at me!” She drew him closer. “Look at _me_! Believe in _me_! I can resist. I can defend you. Does your head feel confused?” “Yes—numb.” “_Don’t sleep!_ Don’t close your eyes! Keep them open and look at me!” “I can scarcely see you——” “You _must_ see me!” “My eyes are heavy,” he said drowsily. “I can’t see you, Tressa——” “Wake! Look at me! Keep your mind clear. Oh, I beg you—I beg you! They’re after our minds and souls, I tell you! Oh, believe in me,” she beseeched him in an agonised whisper—“Can’t you believe in me for a moment,—as if you loved me!” His heavy lids lifted and he tried to look at her. “Can you see me? _Can_ you?” He muttered something in a confused voice. “Victor!” At the sound of his own name, he opened his eyes again and tried to straighten up, but his pistol fell to the carpet. “Victor!” she gasped, “clear your mind in the name of God!” “I can not——” “I tell you hell is opening beyond that door!—outside your bolted door, there! Can’t you believe me! Can’t you hear me! Oh, what will hold you if the love of God can not!” she burst out. “I’d crucify myself for you if you’d look at me—if you’d only fight hard enough to believe in me—as though you loved me!” His eyes unclosed but he sank back against her shoulder. “Victor!” she cried in a terrible voice. There was no answer. “If the love of God could only hold you for a moment more!”—she stammered with her mouth against his ear, “just for a moment, Victor! Can’t you hear me?” “Yes—very far away.” “Fight for me! Try to care for me! Don’t let Sanang have me!” He shuddered in her arms, reached out and resting heavily on her shoulder, staggered to his feet and stood swaying like a drunken man. “No, by God,” he said thickly, “Sanang shall not touch you.” The girl was on her feet now, holding him upright with an arm around his shoulders. “They can’t—can’t harm us together,” she stammered. “Hark! Listen! Can you hear? Oh, can you hear?” “Give me my pistol,” he tried to say, but his tongue seemed twisted. “No—by God—Sanang shall not touch you.” She stooped lithely and recovered the weapon. “Hush,” she said close to his burning face. “Listen. Our minds are safe! I can hear somebody’s soul bidding its body farewell!”