“That is where you make the mistake. I am not the professor. He is gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Vanished.”
“No, professor——”
“He is a coward, or he would not have run away!” faintly but savagely cried the man on the bed. “I did not know he had gone till I looked in the mirror. Till that moment I was thinking myself the professor, but when I looked in the mirror I saw I was quite another man. How he did it—how he slipped away and left me in his place I cannot tell. But here I am, and he is gone. He must be overtaken! He must be captured! He must be punished! You will do it?”
“No! no! I hold no bitterness, for I am sure he did not mean to squander my fortune. Oh, professor, you need have no fear that I will seek to punish you!”
“I—fear? Ha! I see it now! Somehow he left me in his place, and I am the one who is to suffer. Ha! ha! ha! Crafty rascal. Well, I know something was holding me here—I knew there was a spell upon me, for my strength was gone. He put a spell upon me that I might not get away, did he? Ha! ha! ha! Crafty rascal!”
Frank looked into the eyes of the man. They were bright and burning, as if they reflected the fires that were consuming his soul. It was not stimulation, Frank felt certain of that. The professor’s mind was shaken—his reason was tottering on its throne.