Dr. Annister noticed his stubborn look and the defiant poise of his head. “What is it, Felix?” queried the physician. “Don’t you want to take the treatment? Have you changed your mind?”
“No, sir. I’ve not changed my mind. I’m more anxious than ever about it. Shall we begin at once?”
Suddenly his ears seemed to roar with the sound of “Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!” He started and glanced fearfully about the room.
“I will not! I will not! I will not!” His tongue formed the words of refusal behind closed lips, pressed together in a hard line.
Dr. Annister drew a quick, deep breath. “I’m not in very good shape tonight, Felix, but I’ll do the best I can for you,” he said, as he stepped to a cabinet at the back of the room, where he measured out and swallowed a dose of medicine. “Now, if you’re ready, we’ll begin,” he went on, and was surprised to see his companion stagger back a step or two and pass his hand irresolutely over his face.
“Yes, Dr. Annister, at once. But there is something—” the words came slowly, in a monotonous, strained tone through his barely opened lips.
Sudden recollection flashed upon the doctor’s mind of something Gordon had said the night before. He had forgotten it, in his interest in the peculiar features of the case, until that moment. “Oh,” he exclaimed, “is there something you want to speak of first? What is it?”
Brand’s face was pale, his eyes staring and his hands clenched in the struggle he was still making against that inward mastery bent on forcing him to a confession he was determined he would not make. For he greatly feared its effect upon Dr. Annister’s intention to help him, while its other probable consequences he was most unwilling to accept.
But that other will within himself was stronger than his own determination. Already he felt his defiance growing numb before it. He walked irresolutely across the room and back while Dr. Annister looked at him with surprise and dawning suspicion.