In the afternoon, when the phone
rang, she jumped in a startled manner, then relaxed with a shrug. But this time it _was_ for her. She darted into the hall to take the
call on the lower phone; she was hardly surprised but thoroughly
excited to recognize the voice of Nicholas Devine. "Pat?" "Nick! Oh, Nick, Honey! What is it?" "My note to you." Even across the wire she sensed the strain in his
tense tones. "You've read it?" "Of course, Nick! I'll be there." "No." His voice was trembling. "You won't come, Pat. Promise you won't!" "But why? Why not, Nick? Oh, it's terribly important that I see you!" "You're not to come, Pat!" "But--" An idea was struggling to her consciousness. "Nick, was it--?" "Yes. You know now." "But, Honey, what difference does it make? _You_ come. You must, Nick!" "I won't meet you, I tell you!" She could hear his voice rising
excitedly in pitch, she could feel the intensity of the struggle across
unknown miles of lifeless copper wire. "Nick," she said, "I'm going to be there, and you're going to meet me." There was silence at the other end. "Nick!" she cried anxiously. "Do you hear me? I'll be there. Will you?" His voice sounded again, now flat and toneless. "Yes," he said. "I'll be there." The receiver clicked at the far end of the wire; there was only a
futile buzzing in Pat's ears. She replaced the instrument and sat
staring dubiously at it. Had that been Nick, really her Nick, or--? Suppose she went to that
meeting and found--the other? Was she willing to face another evening
of indignities and terrors like those still fresh in her memory? Still, she argued, what harm could come to her on that bench, exposed
as it was to the gaze of thousands who wandered through the park on
summer evenings? Suppose it _were_ the other who met her; there was no
way to force her into a situation such as that of Saturday night. Nick
himself had chosen that very spot for their other meeting, and for that
very reason. "There's no risk in it," she told herself, "Nothing can possibly
happen. I'll simply go there and bring Nick back to Dr. Carl's, along a
lighted, busy street, the whole two blocks. What's there to be afraid
of?" Nothing at all, she answered herself. But suppose--She shuddered and
deliberately abandoned her chain of thought as she rose and rejoined
her mother. 20

The Assignation


Pat was by no means as buoyant as she had been in the morning. She
approached the appointed meeting place with a feeling of trepidation
that all her arguments could not subdue. She surveyed the crowded walks of the park with relief; she felt
confirmed in her assumption that nothing unpleasant could occur with
so many on-lookers. So she approached the bench with somewhat greater
self-assurance than when she had left the house. She saw the seat with its lone occupant, and hastened her steps. Nicholas Devine was sitting exactly as he had on that other occasion,
chin cupped on his hands, eyes turned moodily toward the vast lake
that coruscated now with the reflection of stars and many lights. As
before, she moved close to his side before he looked up, but here the
similarity of the two occasions vanished. Her fears were realized; she
was looking into the red-gleaming eyes and expressionless features of
his other self--the demon of Saturday evening! "Sit down!" he said as a sardonic half-smile twisted his lips. "Aren't
you pleased? Aren't you thrilled to the very core of your being?" Pat stood irresolute; she controlled an impulse to break into sudden,
abandoned flight. The imminence of the crowded walks again reassured
her, and she seated herself gingerly on the extreme edge of the bench,
staring at her companion with coolly inimical eyes. He returned her
gaze with features as immobile as carven stone; only his red eyes gave
evidence of the obscene, uncanny life behind the mask. "Well?" said Pat in as frigid a voice as she could muster. "Yes," said the other surveying her. "You are quite as I recalled you. Very pretty, almost beautiful, save for a certain irregularity in your
features. Not unpleasant, however." His eyes traveled over her body;
automatically she drew back, shrinking away from him. "You have a
seductive body," he continued. "A most seductive body; I regret that
circumstances prevented our full enjoyment of it. But that will come. Yes, that will come!" "Oh!" said Pat faintly. It took all her determination to remain seated
by the side of the horror. "You were extremely attractive as I attired you Saturday," the other
proceeded. His lips took on a curious sensual leer. "I could have
done better with more time; I would have stripped you somewhat more
completely. Everything, I think, except your legs; I am pleased by
the sight of long, straight, silk-clad legs, and should perhaps have
received some pleasure by running these hands along them--scratching
at proper intervals for the aesthetic effect of blood. But that too
will come." The girl sprang erect, gasping and speechless in outraged anger. She
turned abruptly; nothing remained of her determination now. She felt
only an urge to escape from the sneering tormentor who had lost in her
mind all connection with her own Nicholas Devine. She took a sudden
step. "Sit down!" She heard the tones of the entity behind her, flat,
unchanged. "Sit down, else I'll drag you here!" She paused in sheer surprise, turning a startled face on the other. "You wouldn't dare!" she said, amazed at the bald effrontery of the
threat. "You don't dare touch me here!" The other laughed. "Don't I? What have I to risk? _He_'ll suffer for
any deed of mine! You'll call for aid against me and only loose the
hounds on _him_." Pat stared blankly at the evil face. She had no answer; for once her
ready tongue found no retort. "Sit down!" reiterated the other, and she dropped dazedly to her
position on the bench. She turned dark questioning eyes on him. "Do you see," he sneered, "how weakening an influence is this love of
yours? To protect him you are obeying me; this is my authority over
you--this body I share with him!" She made no reply; she was making a desperate effort to lash her mind
into activity, to formulate some means of combating the being who
tortured her. "It has weakened him, too," the other proceeded. "This disturbed
love of his has taken away the mastery which birth gave him, and his
enfeeblement has given that mastery to me. He knows now the reason for
his weakness; I tell it to him too late to harm me." Pat struggled for composure. The very presence of the cold demon tore
at the roots of her self-control, and she suppressed a fierce desire to
break into hysterical laughter. Ridiculous, hopeless, incomprehensible
situation! She forced her quivering throat to husky speech. "What--what are you?" she stammered. "Synapse! I'm a question of synapses," jeered the other. "Simple! Very
simple! Ask your friend the Doctor!" "I think," said the girl, a measure of control returning to her voice,
"that you're a devil.