Catharine came up, terrified but firm. Her clear blue eyes were fixed steadily on those of the maniac, her slender form erected itself into command.
“Come,” she said, “leave this woman; she belongs to God.”
“Why don’t he kill her then?” hissed the maniac, striving to evade Catharine’s glance.
“Because he is, perhaps, punishing her with life.”
“But it would be so pleasant to kill her!” pleaded Elsie, “and I will. Nobody gives me any happiness. I will take it for myself.”
Even in her peril, for it was imminent, the strange woman did not lose her craft. She managed to fix her eyes, cold and sharp as steel, upon the glittering orbs of her enemy.
“See, stoop down and I’ll tell you something,” she said, in a voice that gave no evidence of the terror that shook her heart.
Elsie looked down into the cold depths of her eyes, and her head bent slowly forward like a bird that is charmed to death.
“Of him? Will you tell me?” she whispered.
“He wishes to see you. He sent me to ask if he might come. Let me go, and I will bring him.”