Jack shook his head.
“Answer me!”
Jack opened his mouth to speak, his lips moved, but he could utter no sound. He stood still, staring stupidly at the man in front of him. His thoughts were befuddled. What did he—the man in the gray mask—want?
“I wish those eyes wouldn’t glare at me so,” Jack mumbled to himself. “I didn’t do anything to them.”
But the eyes behind the gray mask became larger, rounder, more compelling. Jack knew instinctively that they meant him harm. What power they held! Something within him fought to arouse him. He tried to move and could not. Larger, ever larger those eyes seemed to grow! The features of the man were lost; in fact, those eyes seemed to belong to no one; they seemed to have life and power, dreadful power, of their own.
Jack shrieked with terror!
Was he lost?
CHAPTER XXXIX.
SHATTERING THE SHACKLES.
Did it ever occur to you that nature plays many pranks? From the many learned books and men—and from daily events—we are lead to assume that nature is grim, relentless. On the whole, this assumption is true. But one of the things that has made nature a harder problem for man to solve is that there are the most unexpected exceptions to the most carefully proved rules. Sometimes these exceptions take place with things and sometimes with persons.