He felt a growing impatience
with the possible dangers threatening him, although he knew such an
attitude to be unwise. He'd smash anyone who tried to harm her or keep
them apart! She barely sipped her drink, and then put it aside. "Back of everything, is Mrs. Carr," she began abruptly. "It was she
who brought Mrs. Gunnison and Evelyn Sawtelle together, and that one
act speaks volumes. Women are invariably secretive about their magic. They work alone. A little knowledge is passed from the elder to the
younger ones, especially from mother to daughter, but even that is done
grudgingly and with suspicions. This is the only case Mrs. Gunnison
knew of--I learned most of this from watching her soul--in which three
women actually co-operated. It is an event of revolutionary importance,
betokening Heaven knows what for the future. Even now I have only an
inkling of Mrs. Carr's ambitions, but they involve vast augmentation of
her present powers. For almost three quarters of a century she has been
weaving her plans. Her real age is closer to eighty than seventy." Tansy's voice was rapid, and she had grown pale again. Norman was
listening intently. "She seems an innocent and rather foolish old lady, strait-laced yet
ineffectual--but that's only part of a disguise, along with her cooing
voice and simpering manners. She's the cleverest actress imaginable. Underneath she's hard as nails--cold where Mrs. Gunnison would be
hot, ascetic where Mrs. Gunnison would be a slave to appetites. But
she has her own deeply hidden hungers, nevertheless. She is a great
admirer of Puritan Massachusetts. Sometimes I have the queerest feeling
that she is planning, by some unimaginable means, to reestablish that
witch-ridden, so-called theocratic community in this present day and
age. "She rules the other two by fear. In a way they are little more than
her apprentices. You know something of Mrs. Gunnison, so you will
understand what it means when I say that I have seen Mrs. Gunnison's
thoughts go weak with terror because she was afraid that she had
slightly offended Mrs. Carr." *       *       *       *       *

Norman finished his drink. His mind was slipping away from this new
menace, fumbling at it instead of grasping it firmly. He must whip his
mind awake! Tansy pushed her drink over toward him. "And Mrs. Gunnison's fear is justified, for Mrs. Carr has powers
so deadly that she has never had to use them except as a threat. Her eyes are the worst. Those thick glasses of hers--she possesses
that most feared of supernatural weapons, against which half the
protective charms in recorded magic are intended. That weapon whose
name is so well known throughout the whole world that it has become a
laughingstock of skeptics. The evil eye. With it, she can blight and
wither. With it, she can seize control of another's soul at a single
glance. "So far she has held back, because she wanted the other two punished
for certain trifling disobediences and put into a position where
they would have to beg her help. But now she will act quickly. She
recognizes in you and your work a danger to herself." Tansy's voice had
become so breathlessly rapid that Norman realized she must be talking
against time. "Besides that, she has another motive buried in the
darkness of her mind. I do not know what it is, but sometimes I have
caught her studying my every movement and expression with the strangest
avidity--"

Suddenly she broke off and her face went white.

" --I can feel her now ... I can feel her seeking me out ... she is
breaking through--No!" Tansy screamed. "No, you can't _make_ me
do it!... _I won't!... I won't! "_ Before he knew it, she was on
her knees, clinging to him, clutching at his hands. "Don't let her
_touch_ me, Norman," she was babbling like a terrified child. "Don't let her come _near_ me." "I won't," he said.

" --oh ... but you can't stop her.... She's coming _here_, she
says, in her own body--that's how much she cares for your powers! She's
going to take me away.... I can't tell you what she's going to make me
do--it's too _repulsive_." "If she comes here, I'll stop her," he said in a flat voice. Her babbling ceased. Slowly she lifted her white, frightened face until
it looked up at his. "You mean--"

He nodded. "I've still got a few cartridges for the revolver." His face
was set. "Norman, I can't let you do it ... except--"

"--that I am in as much danger as you are." "Yes." A semblance of control came back into Tansy's face. "You might be able to do it," she said softly. "She wouldn't
be expecting physical violence. But you would have to be very
_quick_. If you hesitated for the tiniest _instant_, if you
gave her the slightest opportunity to fix you with her eyes, you would
be lost. She would seize control. You know the cobra that spits venom
at its victim's eyes--it's like that." Dully he tried to remember what you did when you committed a murder. There was the alibi--what would that be? And disposal of the body--the
furnace, or he could steal some carboys of acid from the chem lab. What
acid? And would it be wise to steal it? And then there was motive. That
would be his strong point. The courts would not recognize his true
motive. He started. Tansy was shaking him insistently. "Hurry, Norman. She's very close." As if in some sticky nightmare of fear and rage and hate, he made his
preparations. The curtains drawn. The door barely unlatched, so she
could push her way in. Himself in the dark corner of the living room. She would make a good target, outlined against that oblong of daylight. Suddenly Tansy slipped into his arms. Her body molded itself to his. Her moist lips found his own. Almost brutally he returned the kiss. He
heard her whisper breathlessly, "Only be _quick_, darling. Don't
let her _look_ at you." And then she had retreated to the bedroom
doorway. There were steps hurrying up the walk. His emotions contracted to one
tight knot. He was conscious of the cold metal in his hand. The door was pushed inward. A thin form in gray silk was silhouetted
there. Indistinctly he could make out beyond the sight of the gun, the
faded face, the thick glasses. His finger tightened on the trigger. But the thick glasses were turned in his direction. And the
silver-haired head gave a little shake. A dull, almost stupid look came over his face. His jaw sagged. "Quick, Norman. _Quick!_"

The gray figure in the doorway did not move. The gun wavered, then
swung suddenly around until it pointed at Tansy. "_Norman!_"




                                 XVII. The small restless breezes of night stirred the leaves of the venerable
oak standing like some burly guardian beside the narrow house of the
Carrs. Through the overlapping shadows softly gleamed the white of the
walls--such a spotless, pristine white that neighbors laughingly vowed
the old lady herself came out after everyone had gone to sleep and
washed them down with a long-handled mop. Everywhere was the impression
of neatly tended, wholesome age.