At length I entered a fir wood, and I began to feel more my real self.  I saw the dark pines, from whose prickly foliage the snow crystals were falling; I realized a stern beauty in the scene; but I had not time to think about it.  I felt I was near the end of my journey, and I began to wonder at my condition.  I had not gone far into the wood before I stopped and looked around me.  The influence had gone, and I was free; but from behind one of the trees stepped out a man, and the man was—­Herod Voltaire!

“Good-morning, Mr. Justin Blake,” he said blandly.

“Why have you brought me here?” I asked savagely.

He smiled blandly.  “You will admit I have brought you here, then?” he said.  “Ah, my friend, it is dangerous to fight with a man when you don’t know his weapons.”

“I want to know what this means?” I said haughtily.

“Not so fast,” he sneered.  “Come down from that high horse and let’s talk quietly.  Yes, I’ve no doubt you would have enjoyed a ride with a certain lady better than the lonely walk you have had; but, then, you know the old adage, ‘Needs must when the devil drives.’”

“And so you’ve admitted your identity!” I said.  “Well, I don’t want your society; say what you want to say, or I’m going back.”

“Yes,” he said, revealing his white teeth, “I am going to say what I want to say, and you are not going back until you have heard it, and, more than that, promised to accede to it.”

Again I felt a cold shiver creep over me, but I put on a bold face, and said, “It always takes two to play at any game.”

“Yes it does, Mr. Blake, and that you’ll find out.  You feel like defying me, don’t you?  Just so; but your defiance is useless.  Did you not come here against your will?  Are you not staying here now against your will?  Look here, my man, you showed your hand immediately you came, and you’ve been playing your game without knowing the trump cards.  It looked very innocent to be mesmerized last night, didn’t it?  Oh, mesmerism is a vulgar affair; but there was more than mesmerism realized last night.  I played three trump cards last night, Mr. Justin Blake.  The Egyptian story was one, the thought-reading was the second, the animal and mental magnetism was the third.  I had tested my opponent before, and knew just how to play.  When I took the last trick, you became mine—­mine, body and soul!”

I still defied him, and laughed scornfully into his face.

“Yes, you laugh,” he said; “but I like your English adages, and one is this, ‘Those laugh best who win.’  But come,” he said, altering his tone, “you are in my power.  By that one act last night you placed yourself in my power, and now you are my slave.  But I am not a hard master.  Do as I wish you, and I shall not trouble you.”

“I defy you!” I cried.  “I deny your power!”

“Do you?” he said.  “Then try and move from your present position.”