Prof. Grant was a powerfully built man, with a heavy black beard and a pair of black eyes that seemed to seek the innermost recesses of the soul.
Taking Sana’s wrist he gazed into her eyes with a stare that ever increased in piercing power and concentration. At first her glance met his frankly, but within a fleeting moment of time, before she could realize what was happening, Sana closed her eyes, and with relaxing muscles sank back in her chair—totally under the magic spell woven by those piercing eyes.
Grant came to the point quickly, with “Tell me. Did your fiancé, François de Rochelle, direct you to commit suicide while under his influence? What was the purpose? Tell me.”
Sana hesitated.
Grant fairly shouted, “Answer me. I command it!”
Slowly the words came, barely audible to the eager listeners.
“Yes, each time that he hypnotized me he directed and commanded me to drown myself by leaping from the bridge into the river. When I was not under his power, he induced me to walk every day across the bridge. He told me it would do me good to get the air. While in a trance, he also forbade me to ever mention to him, while in a normal state, of my desire to drown myself. He impressed upon me, also, that should I ever be under the hypnotic influence of another and be questioned regarding this, I was to refuse to answer.”
“Did he ever intimate his purpose in wanting you to kill yourself?”
“One night he laughed, so I recall, saying that he would then have plenty of money and could return to France to marry his schoolday sweetheart.”
“Are you sure of that?” demanded Grant.