When the hawk-faced man returned, he dragged my chair to the far end of the room, and pushed the writing-table in front of it to form a barrier. There was a deliberation in all he did that was inexpressibly alarming. His lips were drawn in a tight smile, so that I could see the teeth....
He set a chair over against the wall opposite, and then he went again through the curtained door. A moment afterwards he entered, followed by Connie.
The room grew whirlingly dark and cleared. I could not speak, for my throat seemed to be closing up, but I saw my girl very distinctly.
She was, as I had never seen her, deadly pale, with large, dark rings under her eyes and all the joy of life ironed out of her sweet face. Yet she was not thinner and there were no lines. The colour had gone from her cheeks and the lustre from her hair, but I somehow thought that her physical health had not suffered alarmingly.
When she spoke I knew that this was true, and I knew why. Her indomitable spirit remained. The sunny courage of the past had condensed within her soul and turned to unconquerable purpose. Her voice was so full of scorn that it cut even me like the lash of a whip. It was a marvel that the tall man could have borne it for a moment.
But his eyes had a red light in them, like the eyes of a hound—mad.
"What new devilry is this?" the girl said, as her eyes fell upon me, trussed up there behind the table. "Do you suppose that I want any further evidence to tell me from where you come and whom you serve?"
"Look at this gentleman; look at him well."
"Another of your unhappy prisoners! So you add torture to your crimes. And you dare to make me witness it!"
She turned in a fury of disgust and loathing, and made a step towards the door. But before she moved further—God bless her!—she said: "You have fallen into the hands of a very horrid scoundrel, sir, but ..."