"Why didn't he get help?"
"Only he could stand against them. I knew little of abnormal psychology, but I understood the classic evidence of paranoia. I shrank from him. He sat, leaning forward, his eyes intent. I wept and begged him to take me back. He turned his face to me, and I saw the pain and anguish in his eyes. I loved him ... and feared him. And he would not turn back. Night was falling, and the enemy awaited him."
"Then, when you got to the house...?"
"He had whipped up the horses, and I remember how I clung to the top braces, weeping. Then we were at the house. Without a word he jumped down and ran to the door. I followed. He lit a lamp and turned to me. From somewhere there was a wailing call, like an injured animal. He shouted something—an unintelligible cry—and ran toward the back of the house. I took up the lamp and followed. In the kitchen he went to the wall, pressed against it. The panel opened. He looked at me. His face was white.
"'In the name of the High God. Linda Carroll, I entreat you....'
"I screamed. And he hardened his face, and went down ... and I screamed and screamed again...." Miss Carroll closed her eyes, drew a shuddering breath.
"I'm sorry to have put you through this, Miss Carroll," Tremaine said. "But I had to know."
Faintly in the distance a siren sounded. In the mirror, headlights twinkled half a mile behind. Tremaine stepped on the gas. The powerful car leaped ahead.
"Are you expecting trouble on the road, James?"
"The State police are unhappy with me, Miss Carroll. And I imagine they're not too pleased with Jess. Now they're out for blood. But I think I can outrun them."