"It would be better if I went to sleep," Olga repeated to herself slowly.
Just then the shadow of Millar, as he passed in front of one of the garden lamps, was thrown against the white wall of the room, and she could hear distinctly his cynical chuckle. With a cry of horror she raised herself to her full height, put out her hands to ward off the evil spell, and shrieked:
"No! no! no!"
Then she sank fainting on the floor. For a moment the shadow lingered above her, and faded.
When Karl left the home of Herman and Olga to conduct Elsa and her aunt to their carriage he did not return. He was deeply ashamed of the suspicion he had entertained, and humiliated at the trick played upon his overheated imagination by Millar. He could not bear to face Olga or his tormentor.
Sending the servant back for his overcoat and hat, he plunged along through the snow, walking briskly. Old Heinrich had gone to bed when he reached the studio. There remained but a few hours of the night, but Karl could not bring himself to sleep. He paced restlessly up and down the studio, his mind tortured by the thoughts so skilfully implanted there by Millar.
He was not surprised when the door bell rang and it was Millar whom he admitted. His strange visitor shook the snow from his great fur coat and laid it aside. Then he walked over to the grate where the fire burned cheerfully and stood in front of it, rubbing his hands as he held them out to the blaze.
Karl resumed his restless march up and down the room. Millar watched him cynically for a few moments.
"You seem nervous this morning, Karl," he said.
"I am nervous; I'm crazy," Karl answered.