“Oh God, Pat! Even you can’t know how much I love you; and to win you and then be forced to give you up—” He groaned.
The girl reached out her hand and covered his; it was the first time during the evening that she had touched him, and the feel of his flesh sent a tingle through her. She was miserably distraught.
“Honey,” she murmured brokenly. “Nick, Honey.”
He looked at her. “Do you suppose there’s a chance to beat the thing?” he asked. “I’d not ask you to wait, Pat, but if I only glimpsed a chance—”
“I’ll wait. I don’t think I could do anything else but wait for you.”
“If I only knew what I had to fight!” he whispered. “If I only knew that!”
A sudden memory leaped into Pat’s mind. “Nick,” she said huskily, “I think I know.”
“What do you mean, Pat?”
“It’s something Magda—the cook—said to me. It’s foolish, superstitious, but Nick, what else can it be?”
“Tell me!”
“Well, she was talking to me yesterday, and she said that when she was a child in the old country, she had seen a man once—” she hesitated—“a man who was possessed by a devil. Nick, I think you’re possessed by a devil!”
He stared at her. “Pat,” he said hoarsely, “that’s—an impossibility!”
“I know, but what else can it be?”
“Out of the Dark Ages,” he muttered. “An echo of the Black Mass and witchcraft, but—”
“What did they do,” asked the girl, “to people they thought were possessed?”
“Exorcism!” he whispered.
“And how did they—exorcise?”
“I don’t know,” he said in a low voice. “Pat, that’s an impossible idea, but—I don’t know!” he ended.
“We’ll try,” she murmured, still covering his hand with her own. “What else can we do, Nick?”
“What’s done I’ll do alone, Pat.”
“But I want to help!”
“I’ll not let you, Dear. I won’t have you exposed to a repetition of those indignities, or perhaps worse!”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then I am, Pat! I won’t have it!”
“But what’ll you do?”
“I’ll go away. I’ll battle the thing through once for all, and I’ll either come back free of it or—” He paused and the girl did not question him further, but sat staring at him with troubled eyes.
“I won’t write you, Pat,” he continued. “If you should receive a letter from me, burn it—don’t read it. It might be from—the other, a trap or a lure of some sort. Promise me! You’ll promise that, won’t you?”
She nodded; there was a glint of tears in her eyes.
“And I don’t want you to wait, Pat,” he proceeded. “I don’t want you to feel that you have any obligations to me—God knows you’ve nothing to thank me for! When—if I come back and you haven’t changed, then we’ll try again.”
“Nick,” she said in a small voice, “how do you know the—the other won’t come back here? How can you promise for—it?”
“I’m still master!” he said grimly. “I won’t be dominated long enough at any time for that to happen. I’ll fight it down.”
“Then—it’s goodbye?”
He nodded. “But not for always—I hope.”
“Nick,” she murmured, “will you kiss me?” She felt a tear on her cheek. “I’ll stand losing you a little better if I can have a—last kiss—to remember.” Her voice was faltering.
His arms were about her. She yielded herself completely to his caress; the park, the crowd passing a few yards away, the people on nearby benches, were all forgotten, and once more she felt herself alone with Nicholas Devine in a vast empty cosmos.
An insistent voice penetrated her consciousness; she realized that it had been calling her name for some seconds.
“Miss Lane,” she heard, and again, “Miss Lane.” A hand tapped her shoulder; with a sudden start, she tore her lips away, and looked up into a face unrecognized for a moment. Then she placed it. It was the visage of Mueller, Dr. Horker’s companion on that disastrous Saturday night.
XVI
Possessed
Pat stared at the intruder in a mingling of embarrassment, perplexity, and indignation. She felt her cheeks reddening as the latter emotion gained the dominance of her mood.
“Well!” she snapped. “What do you want?”
“I thought I’d walk home with you,” Mueller said amiably.
“Walk home with me! Please explain that!” She grasped the arm of Nicholas Devine, who had risen angrily at the interruption. “Sit down, Nick, I know the fellow.”
“So should he,” said Mueller. “Sure; I’ll explain. I’m on a job for Dr. Horker.”
“Spying on me for him, I suppose!” taunted the girl.
“No. Not on you.”
“He means on me,” said Nick soberly. “You can’t blame him, Pat. And perhaps you had better go home; we’ve finished here. There’s nothing more we can do or say.”
“Very well,” she said, her voice suddenly softer. “In a moment, Nick.” She turned to Mueller. “Would you mind telling me why you waited until now to interfere? We’ve been here two hours, you know.”
“Sure I’ll tell you. I got no orders to interfere, that’s why.”
“Then why did you?” queried Pat tartly.
“I didn’t until I saw him there”—he nodded at Nick—“put his arms around you. Then I figured, having no orders, it was time to use my own judgment.”
“If any!” sniffed the girl. She turned again to Nick; her face softened, became very tender. “Honey,” she murmured huskily, “I guess it’s goodbye now. I’ll be fighting with you; you know that.”
“I know that,” he echoed, looking down into her eyes. “I’m almost happy, Pat.”
“When’ll you go?” she whispered in tones inaudible to Mueller.
“I don’t know,” he answered, his voice unchanged. “I’ll have to make some sort of preparations—and I don’t want you to know.”
She nodded. She gazed at him a moment longer with tear-bright eyes. “Goodbye, Nick,” she whispered. She rose on tiptoe, and kissed him very lightly on his lips, then turned and walked quickly away, with Mueller following behind.
She walked on, ignoring him until he halted beside her at the crossing of the Drive. Then she gave him a cold glance.
“Why is
