"Why—". She paused shuddering, as one by one the events of that sequence of horrors reassembled themselves. "Yes, I'd mind very much," she continued. "It was nothing—" She turned to him abruptly. "Oh, it was, though, Dr. Carl! It was horrible, unspeakable, incomprehensible!—But I can't talk about it! I can't!"
"Perhaps you're right," said the Doctor mildly. "Don't you really want to discuss it?"
"I do want to," admitted the girl after a moment's reflection. "I want to—but I can't. I'm afraid to think of all of it."
"But what in Heaven's name did you do?"
"We just started out to go dancing," she said hesitatingly. "Then, on the way to town, Nick—changed. He said someone was following us."
"Some one was," said Horker. "I was, with Mueller. That Nick of yours has the Devil's own cleverness!"
"Yes," the girl echoed soberly. "The Devil's own!—Who's Mueller, Dr. Carl?"
"He's a plain-clothes man, friend of mine. I treated him once. What do you mean by changed?"
"His eyes," she said. "And his mouth. His eyes got reddish and terrible, and his mouth got straight and grim. And his voice turned sort of—harsh."
"Ever happen before, that you know of?"