“That was wise,” said Unorna, still pale. “How came we to be so imprudent! One word, and he might have suspected—”
“He could not have suspected all,” answered Keyork. “No man could suspect that.”
“Nevertheless, I suppose what we have done is not exactly—justifiable.”
“Hardly. It is true that criminal law has not yet adjusted itself to meet questions of suggestion and psychic influence, but it draws the line, most certainly, somewhere between these questions and the extremity to which we have gone. Happily the law is at an immeasurable distance from science, and here, as usual in such experiments, no one could prove anything, owing to the complete unconsciousness of the principal witnesses.”
“I do not like to think that we have been near to such trouble,” said Unorna.
“Nor I. It was fortunate that I met the Wanderer when I did.”
“And the other? Did he wake as I ordered him to do? Is all right? Is there no danger of his suspecting anything?”
It seemed as though Unorna had momentarily forgotten that such a contingency might be possible, and her anxiety returned with the recollection. Keyork’s rolling laughter reverberated among the plants and filled the whole wide hall with echoes.
“No danger there,” he answered. “Your witchcraft is above criticism. Nothing of that kind that you have ever undertaken has failed.”
“Except against you,” said Unorna, thoughtfully.