“For the last time, I tell you I will never do it! Never, never, never!”
“Then why do you complain? If you cannot afford to pay for your amusements, and you refuse to compromise in a simple manner, why do you approach me?”
“Oh, my God!” She moaned and swayed dizzily—“have pity on me! Who are you, what are you, that you can bring ruin on a woman because—” She uttered a choking sound, but continued hoarsely, “Raise your head. Let me see your face. As heaven is my witness, I am ruined—ruined!”
“Tomorrow—”
“I cannot wait for tomorrow—”
That quivering, hoarse cry betrayed a condition of desperate febrile excitement. Mrs. Irvin was capable of proceeding to the wildest extremities. Clearly the mysterious Egyptian recognized this to be the case, for slowly raising his hand:
“I will communicate with you,” he said, and the words were spoken almost hurriedly. “Depart in peace—“; a formula wherewith he terminated every seance. He lowered his hand.
The silver gong sounded again—and the dim light began to fade.
Thereupon the unhappy woman acted; the long suppressed outburst came at last. Stepping rapidly to the green transparent veil behind which Kazmah was seated, she wrenched it asunder and leapt toward the figure in the black chair.
“You shall not trick me!” she panted. “Hear me out or I go straight to the police—now—now!”