The lash of His Majesty’s voice convinced the girl-soul. Whipped by it back into her chair, she awaited the chastisement which probably would follow her regardlessness of rules. Thoughts of the Wantons’ Well and the Ward for Bastard Babes subdued her small access of courage in the dread which had come with her from Earth to Shadow Land. She closed her eyes; ceased to breathe; expected. The pause seemed long; was long.
When finally the Rex of Reversals spoke, his humorous tone and diction made her realize that until then she had expected clemency.
“Hard to beat, this faith of fools! At least, the Great Judge of whom you hope a reprieve from the fiat of your world hasn’t any corner on tolerance. Although love is a puny motive, I excuse a lot of it for sake of the passion it begets. Young woman, your story interests me. Since so large an audience has disconcerted you, suppose you finish it to sympathetic me alone. It is hate divine that must be served and you who must serve it.”
Dolores’ moan went unheard in the instant protest of the demon cabinet. But their controller did not trouble to repeat his order. Not so much as a gesture or nod of dismissal did he vouchsafe as they, not daring to vent their spleen over being excluded from this culminating séance, filed out one by one.
Although several times before Dolores had been alone with His Highness, she never had feared as now the Evil Mind. Her face returned to her palms. In darting speculation over what he next might say or do, she awaited his displeasure. Unendurably the silence lasted. She at last glanced up from morbid curiosity.
He was not looking at her. The green glow, so weird from his gray eyes, shafted well to one side and past her. She noticed that he was at once unusually attractive because unusually repulsive to-night. The concentration into which he had sunk drew out of her like a magnet a certain sympathy for the very evil he would do her. She shuddered in ghoulish anticipation.
More slowly lagged the seconds. More unnatural it seemed that still he did not look at her. Had there remained in his mind a shadow of Old Sam’s suggestion that he had a weakness for her? Doubt of what might lurk in his averted eyes obsessed her.
“Why don’t you speak? Why don’t you look at me?” she urged aloud. “Please look at me.”
She would better have remained in doubt. To see what was in his eyes, to try to grasp the odious meaning of the glance now fixed upon her——
As she swayed backward in her chair, he proceeded to enlighten her.