She sat bolt upright with clenched hands at her breast, her face palely aglow in the dimness as though illumined by some vivid inward light—or, as he thought—from the azure blaze in her wide-open eyes.
“Is—is this what you call—what you believe to be magic?” he asked unsteadily. “Is there some hostile psychic influence threatening you?”
“Yes. I’m resisting. I’m fighting—fighting. They shall not trap me. They shall not harm you!... I know how to defend myself and you!... And you!”
Suddenly she flung her left arm around his neck and the delicate clenched hand brushed his cheek.
“They shall not have you,” she breathed. “I am fighting. I am holding my own. There are eight of them—eight Assassins! My mind is in battle with theirs—fiercely in battle.... I hold my own! I am armed and waiting!”
With a convulsive movement she drew his head closer to her shoulder. “Eight of them!” she whispered,—“trying to entrap and seize my brain. But my thoughts are free! My mind is defending you—you, here in my arms!”
After a breathless silence: “Look out!” she whispered with terrible energy; “they are after your mind at last. Fix your thoughts on me! Keep your mind clear of their net! Don’t let their ghostly fingers touch it. Look at me!” She drew him closer. “Look at me! Believe in me! I can resist. I can defend you. Does your head feel confused?”
“Yes—numb.”
“Don’t sleep! Don’t close your eyes! Keep them open and look at me!”
“I can scarcely see you——”