To my own amaze, the effect was instantaneous. My terrible antagonist dropped to the floor as a dog drops at the word of his master. The muscles of his frowning countenance relaxed, the glare of his wrathful eyes grew dull and rayless; his limbs lay prostrate and unnerved, his head rested against the wall, his arms limp and drooping by his side. I approached him slowly and cautiously; he seemed cast into a profound slumber.
“You are at my mercy now!” said I.
He moved his head as in sign of deprecating submission.
“You hear and understand me? Speak!”
His lips faintly muttered, “Yes.”
“I command you to answer truly the questions I shall address to you.”
“I must, while yet sensible of the power that has passed to your hand.”
“Is it by some occult magnetic property in this wand that you have exercised so demoniac an influence over a creature so pure as Lilian Ashleigh?”
“By that wand and by other arts which you could not comprehend.”
“And for what infamous object,—her seduction, her dishonour?”