“Do nothing rash,” said he.

“Rash!” I cried.  “The only rash thing is that I should postpone it another hour.”  With that I rushed to my room, and here I am on the eve of what may be the great crisis of my life.  I shall start at once.  I have gained one thing to-day, for I have made one man, at least, realize the truth of this monstrous experience of mine.  And, if the worst should happen, this diary remains as a proof of the goad that has driven me.

Evening.  When I came to Wilson’s, I was shown up, and found that he was sitting with Miss Penclosa.  For half an hour I had to endure his fussy talk about his recent research into the exact nature of the spiritualistic rap, while the creature and I sat in silence looking across the room at each other.  I read a sinister amusement in her eyes, and she must have seen hatred and menace in mine.  I had almost despaired of having speech with her when he was called from the room, and we were left for a few moments together.

“Well, Professor Gilroy—­or is it Mr. Gilroy?” said she, with that bitter smile of hers.  “How is your friend Mr. Charles Sadler after the ball?”

“You fiend!” I cried.  “You have come to the end of your tricks now.  I will have no more of them.  Listen to what I say.”  I strode across and shook her roughly by the shoulder “As sure as there is a God in heaven, I swear that if you try another of your deviltries upon me I will have your life for it.  Come what may, I will have your life.  I have come to the end of what a man can endure.”

“Accounts are not quite settled between us,” said she, with a passion that equalled my own.  “I can love, and I can hate.  You had your choice.  You chose to spurn the first; now you must test the other.  It will take a little more to break your spirit, I see, but broken it shall be.  Miss Marden comes back to-morrow, as I understand.”

“What has that to do with you?” I cried.  “It is a pollution that you should dare even to think of her.  If I thought that you would harm her——­”

She was frightened, I could see, though she tried to brazen it out.  She read the black thought in my mind, and cowered away from me.

“She is fortunate in having such a champion,” said she.  “He actually dares to threaten a lonely woman.  I must really congratulate Miss Marden upon her protector.”

The words were bitter, but the voice and manner were more acid still.

“There is no use talking,” said I.  “I only came here to tell you,—­and to tell you most solemnly,—­that your next outrage upon me will be your last.”  With that, as I heard Wilson’s step upon the stair, I walked from the room.  Ay, she may look venomous and deadly, but, for all that, she is beginning to see now that she has as much to fear from me as I can have from her.  Murder!  It has an ugly sound.  But you don’t talk of murdering a snake or of murdering a tiger.  Let her have a care now.