fascination by the severed head might have been assumed. And the tossing of the match a calculated
action designed to destroy evidence. I did not feel that I could trust my own peculiar reactions as valid.
And yet it was difficult to credit McCann with being so consummate an actor, so subtle a plotter. Ah, but
he could be following the instructions of another mind capable of such subtleties. I wanted to trust
McCann. I hoped that he would pass the test. Very earnestly I hoped it.
The test was ordained to failure. Ricori was fully conscious, wide awake, his mind probably as alert and
sane as ever. But the lines of communication were still down. His mind had been freed, but not his body.
The paralysis persisted, forbidding any muscular movements except the deep-seated unconscious
reflexes essential to the continuance of life. He could not speak. His eyes looked up at me, bright and
intelligent, but from an expressionless face…looked up at McCann with the same unchanging stare.