"They are not all like lap dogs," Sardon said in a kind of whisper.
Simon took out a handkerchief and passed it across his brow. The last thing about that weird scene that fixed itself consciously in his memory was the girl's fingers relaxing their tense grip on his hand, and Sar-don's eyes, bland and efficient and businesslike again, pinned steadily on them both in a sort of secret sneer…
"What do you think of our friend?" Ivar Nordsten asked, as they Dr.ove home two hours later.
Simon stretched out a long arm for the lighter at the side of the car.
"He is a lunatic — but of course you knew that. I'm only wondering whether he is quite harmless."
"You ought to sympathize with his contempt for the human race."
The red glow of the Saint's cigarette end brightened so that for an instant the interior of the car was filled with something like a pale reflection of the unearthly crimson luminance which they had seen in Dr. Sardon's forcing room.
"Did you sympathize with his affection for his pets?"
"Those great ants?" Nordsten shivered involuntarily. "No. That last one — it was the most frightful thing I have ever seen. I suppose it was really alive?"
"It was alive," said the Saint steadily. "That's why I'm wondering whether Dr. Sardon is harmless. I don't know what you were looking at, Ivar, but I'll tell you what made my blood run cold. It wasn't the mere size of the thing — though any common or garden ant would be terrifying enough if you enlarged it to those dimensions. It was worse than that. It was the proof that Sardon was right. That ant was looking at me. Not like any other insect or even animal that I've ever seen, but like an insect with a man's brain might look. That was the most frightening thing to me. It knew!"