"You're going to die," whispered the voice. "How do you like the sensation?"
The arm tightened on her neck. She was suffocating, dying she thought, and her heart was filled with a wild, mad longing for life and a terror undreamt of. She could faintly hear her father's voice calling her and then consciousness departed.
When Jean came to herself she was in Lydia Meredith's arms. She opened her eyes and saw the pathetic face of her father looming from the background. Her hand went up to her throat.
"Hallo, people—how did I get here?" she asked as she struggled into a sitting position.
"I came in search of you and found you lying on the ground," quavered Mr. Briggerland.
"Did you see the man?" she asked.
"No. What happened to you, darling?"
"Nothing," she said with that composure which she could command. "I must have fainted. It was rather ridiculous of me, wasn't it?" she smiled.
She got unsteadily to her feet and again she felt her throat. Lydia noticed the action.
"Did he hurt you?" she asked anxiously. "It couldn't have been Jaggs."