In the struggle that Nick had with himself when she first began to attempt the exertion of her power, beads of perspiration came out upon his brow. The effort with his own will brought to his face that strained expression which she had expected to see there as a result of her own influence.
Presently she drew him toward one of the large armchairs that were in the room. She forced him gently down upon it, standing before him, holding his eyes still, and now stroking his forehead with her velvety touch.
Nick knew then why other men had become her willing victims.
He realized the depth of the pitfall that had been spread out for them, and how entirely willing they had been to cast themselves into it.
He appeared to struggle against her power for a time, and then he permitted his eyes to close, as if he were indeed hypnotized—and then he heard a quick sigh of satisfaction escape her.
She drew away from him. He heard her cross the room, but he did not dare to peer at her between his lashes, lest she should be watching and see him do it.
He knew that she sank upon a chair, and rested there for a time, breathing heavily, as if the effort to which she had put herself had fatigued her greatly. After a time, when she seemed entirely to have recovered, she approached him again.
This time she spoke commandingly, as if she were ordering some menial to do her will.
“Nicholas Carter!” she said sharply. “Answer me!”