Two chairs were drawn up on either side of Vicky, ahead and a little in front of her. Sharpless and Ann Browning sat at one side. Arthur sat at the other side, near the empty chair which had been Hubert's. Dr. Rich stood in the midst of this semi-circle, facing Vicky. He allowed the silence to lengthen again before he spoke.
"Victoria Fane," he said softly. The same eerie voice froze them again. "You hear me. You hear me, but you will not yet awake." He paused.
"Victoria Fane, I am your master. My will is your law. Now speak. Repeat after me: 'You are my master, and your will is my law.' "
It was as though the voice had. to travel a long way. After perhaps three seconds, the dummy figure in the chair stirred. A shiver went through Vicky's body. Her head rolled a little to one side. Her lips moved.
" 'You are—' " Everyone jumped when she spoke. It was a whisper; it was not even Vicky's voice; it was like a grotesque echo of the voice which had begun to cut away her soul. " 'You are my master,' " it whispered, " 'and your will is my law.' "
" 'Whatever I am asked to do, that I will do without question. For this is for my own good.' "
The figure in the chair struggled, and became limp.
" 'Whatever I am asked to do,' " it replied colorlessly, " 'that I will do. For this is for my own good.' "
" 'Without question!' "
" 'Without-question.' "