"I presume I can do that?"
"You can, unless—unless I find myself in a position to take the promise back."
"I can hardly see how that position could come about," she said, with an air of wondering.
"I can. You see," he went on in an explanatory tone, "it was an unusual sort of promise—a promise made, so to speak, for value received—for unusual value received. It wasn't one that a common occasion would have called forth. It was offered because you had given me—life."
He rested his arm now on a table that stood between them and, leaning toward her, looked her steadily in the eyes.
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're going to say," she remarked, rather blankly.
"No, but you'll see. You gave me life. I hold that life in a certain sense at your pleasure. It is at your disposal. It must remain at your disposal—- until I give it back."
She sat upright in her chair, leaning in her turn on the table, and drawing nearer to him.
"I can't imagine what you mean," she said, under her breath and looking a little frightened.
"You'll see presently. But don't be alarmed. It's going to be all right. As long as I hold the life you gave me," he continued to explain, "I must do your bidding. I'm not a free man; I'm—don't be offended—I'm your creature. I don't say I was a free man before this came up. I haven't been a free man ever since I've been Herbert Strange. I've been the slave of a sort of make-believe. I've made believe, and I've felt I was justified. Perhaps I was. I'm not quite sure. But I haven't liked it; and now I begin to feel that I can't stand it any longer. You follow me, don't you?"