VI

STRUGGLING FOR VICTORY

I confess that I was somewhat excited as I heard him coming up the
stairs. I was sure that every means he could devise to defeat me would
be eagerly used. The man was a villain possessed of a strange and
dangerous power, and that power he would not hesitate to exert in every
possible way. But I was not afraid; my faith in God had given me life,
and so I would dare to defy the wretch.

I did not look at him until the girl had shown him in and left the room;
then our eyes met.

I recognized the steely glitter of those whity-grey orbs, which at times
seemed tinted with green. I knew he was seeking to exert his old
influence, and once I thought I should have to yield. The power he
possessed was something terrible, and I had to struggle to the utmost to
remain unconquered. His efforts were in vain, however, and, for the
time, at all events, the battle was not with him.

"Will you sit down, Mr. Voltaire?" I said, after a minute's perfect
silence.

He sat down as if in astonishment.

"Might I ask your business?" I asked as coolly as I could.

This question either aroused his anger, or he began to play a part.
"Yes," he said; "you will know my business at your cost. I thought you
had found out before this that I was not the man either to be disobeyed
or trifled with."

I did not think it wise to speak.

"I have come to tell you," he went on, "that you cannot escape my power,
that you cannot disobey me and not suffer. Remember this: I conquered
you, and you are my slave."

Still I did not think it wise to reply.

"You think," he continued, "because you have realized some immunity from
the power I wield, that I have left you. I have not, and it is greater
than ever. You have dared to leave London; you have dared to do that
which I told you not; and now I have come to tell you that you have
aroused the anger of a man who laughs at conventional laws, and snaps
his fingers at the ordinary usages of society--one who knows nothing
and cares nothing for your claptrap morality, and will not be influenced
by it."

"I am sorry if I have angered you," I replied humbly.

"Just so, and you will be more than sorry. Man, I hold your life in the
hollow of my hand. One word from me, and your liberty is gone; you will
be dragged through the streets like a common felon."

"Am I guilty of so much, then?" I said. "Did I really kill that man?"

He looked at me curiously, as if he suspected something.