“Stop!” she commanded. “You have no right——”
Leighton waved her imperiously aside.
“Dynamite,” he continued, addressing David.
“Darkness,” came the hesitating answer.
“Raoul Arthur.”
Silence. A weird dance, as of some mocking spirit, seized the electric finger pointing at the mirror. Una knelt at David’s side, her hands upon his shoulders. His lips quivered as he looked despairingly at her.
“Guatavita,” said Leighton harshly.
No answer. The electrodes slipped from David’s grasp. The finger of light became suddenly motionless.
David had fallen, unconscious, in Una’s arms.