In a remarkably short s.p.a.ce of time he had it open. Then he began to search for the red leather box. He gleamed the lantern into the drawer so that its light might a.s.sist his search.

While he was still engaged in the work of discovery, suddenly the room was all ablaze with light.

"Thank you. I thought it was you."

A voice, quite a musical voice, spoke these words behind his back. Mr.

Bennett was, not unnaturally, amazed. The sudden blaze of light dazzled his eyes. He turned to see who the speaker was.

"Don't move, or I fire. You will find I am a first-rate shot."

He stared. Indeed, he had cause to stare. A young lady--a distinctly pretty young lady--was sitting up in bed holding a revolver in her hand, which she was pointing straight at him.

"This room is lighted by electricity. I have only to press a b.u.t.ton, it all goes out." And, in fact, it all went out; again the room was dark as pitch. "Another, it is alight again." As it was--and that with the rapidity of a flash of lightning.

Mr. Bennett stood motionless. For the first time in his professional career he was at a loss, not only as to what he ought to say, but as to what he ought to do. The young lady was so pretty. She had long, fair hair, which ranged loose upon her shoulders; a pair of great big eyes, which had a very curious effect on Mr. Bennett as they looked at him; a sweet mouth; through her rosy lips gleamed little pearl-like teeth; and a very pretty--and equally determined--nose and chin. She had on the orthodox nightdress, which, in her case, was a gorgeous piece of feminine millinery, laced all down the front with the daintiest pink bows. Mr. Bennett had never seen such a picture in his life.

"I am Miss Cecilia Jones. You are Mr. Bennett, I presume--George Bennett--'My George,' as Hannah says. Hannah is a hypnotic subject.

When I am experimenting on her the poor dear creature tells me everything, you know. I wonder if I could hypnotise you."

Mr. Bennett did not know what she meant. He was only conscious of the most singular sensation he had ever experienced. To a.s.sist his understanding, possibly, Miss Jones gave a practical demonstration of her meaning. With her disengaged hand she made some slight movements in the air, keeping her eyes fixed on Mr. Bennett all the while. Mr.

Bennett in vain struggled to escape her gaze. Suddenly he was conscious that, as it were, something had gone from him--his resolution--his freedom of will--he knew not what.

Miss Jones put down her hand.

"I think that you will do. How do you feel?"

"Very queer."

Mr. Bennett's utterance was peculiar. He spoke as a man might speak who is under the influence of a drug, or as one who dreams--unconsciously, without intention, as it were.

"Oh, they always do feel like that at first. Are you considered a good burglar as a rule?"

"As a rule."

Mr. Bennett hesitatingly put up his hand and drew it across his brow.

It was the hand which held the lantern. When the lantern touched his skin he found that it was hot. He let it fall from his hand with a clatter to the floor. Miss Jones eyed him keenly all the time.

"I see you are not quite subjective yet, but I think that you will do.

And of course I can always complete the influence if I will. It only ill.u.s.trates what I have continually said--that it is not necessarily the lowest mental organisations that traffic in crime. I should say that yours was above rather than below the average. Have you yourself any ideas upon that point?"

As he answered Mr. Bennett faintly sighed.

"None!"

Miss Jones smiled, and as she smiled he smiled too, though there was this feature about Mr. Bennett's smile--there was not in it any sense of mirth. Miss Jones seemed to notice this, for she smiled still more.

Immediately Mr. Bennett's smile expanded into a hideous grin. Then she burst into laughter. Mr. Bennett laughed out too.

"After all, you are more subjective than I thought you were. I don't think I ever had a subject laugh quite so sympathetically before."

As Miss Jones said this--which she did when she had done laughing--she turned and adjusted the pillows so as to form a support to her back.

Against this she reclined at ease. She placed the revolver on the bolster at her side. From a receptacle in the nature of a tidy, which was fastened to the wall above her head, she drew a small leather case. From this she took a cigarette and a match. With the most charming air imaginable she proceeded to light the cigarette and smoke.

Mr. Bennett watched all her movements, feeling that he must be playing a part in a dream. It was a perceptible relief when she removed her eyes from his face, though they were such pretty eyes. Yet, although she was not looking at him, he felt that she saw him all the time--he had a hideous impression that she even saw what was pa.s.sing in his mind.

"I wouldn't think about my revolver. You won't be able to fire it, you know."

He had been thinking about his revolver: a faint notion had been growing up in his mind that he would like to have just one shot at her. Miss Jones made this remark in the most tranquil tone of voice, as she was engaged in extinguishing the match with which she had lighted her cigarette.

"And I wouldn't worry about that chloroform--it is chloroform, isn't it?--in the right-hand pocket of your coat."

As she said this Miss Jones threw the extinguished match from her on to the bedroom floor. A great cloud of horror was settling down on Mr. Bennett's brain. Was this fair creature a thing of earth at all? Was she a witch or a fairy queen? Mr. Bennett was a tolerably well-educated man, and he had read of fairy queens. He gave a sudden start. Miss Jones had lighted the cigarette to her satisfaction, and had fixed her eyes upon his face again.

"I suppose you were hardly prepared for this sort of thing?"

"Hardly."

The word came from Mr. Bennett's stammering lips.

"When you heard about the defencelessness of Acacia Villa, and about Miss Jones--who was peculiar--and that sort of thing, you doubtless took it for granted that it was to be all plain sailing?"

"Something of the kind."

Not the least odd part of the affair was that Mr. Bennett found himself answering Miss Jones without the least intention of doing anything of the sort.

"Those diamonds you were looking for are at the bottom of the drawer--at the back. Just get them out and bring them here. In a red leather case--you know."

Mechanically Mr. Bennett did as he was told. When his back was turned to the lady, and he ceased to be compelled to meet her eyes, quite a spasm of relief went over him. A faint desire was again born within his breast to a.s.sert his manhood. The lady's quiet voice immediately interposed.

"I wouldn't worry myself with such thoughts if I were you. You are quite subjective."

He was subjective, though still Mr. Bennett had not the faintest notion what she meant. He found the red leather box. He brought it to her on the bed. He came so close to her that she puffed the smoke between her rosy lips up into his face.

"It is not locked. It opens with a spring, like this."

She stretched out her hand. As she did so she grazed slightly one of his. He trembled at her touch. She pressed some hidden spring in the box and the lid flew open. It was full of diamonds, which gleamed and sparkled like liquid light.

"Not bad stones, are they? There's a hundred thousand pounds' worth at the least. There are the tin boxes, you see. Five on either side the chest of drawers." Mr. Bennett followed the direction of Miss Jones's hand--he saw them plainly enough. "A hundred thousand pounds' worth of diamonds in your hand, ten thousand pounds in front of you--not bad plunder for a single night's work. And only a young woman to reckon with--it is not twelve months since I turned twenty-one. Yet I don't think you will get much out of this little job--do you?"

The tears actually stood in Mr. Bennett's eyes.

"I don't think I shall," he moaned.

"And yet there is no magic about it--not the least. It is simply an ill.u.s.tration of the latest phase in scientific development." Miss Jones leaned back against the pillows, enjoying her cigarette with the etherealised satisfaction of the true lover of the weed. With her left hand--what a little white and dainty hand it was!--she toyed with her long, fair hair. "At an extremely early age I discovered that I could exercise at will remarkable powers over my fellow-creatures. I lost no opportunity to develop those powers. At twenty-one I became my own mistress. I realised my fortune--as Hannah told you--and retired to Acacia Villa. You understand I had ideas of my own. I was peculiar, if you choose to have it so. I continued to develop my powers. I experimented upon Hannah. Now I am experimenting upon you. I am enjoying this experiment very much indeed. I hope you are enjoying it a quarter as much as I am--are you?" Some slightly inarticulate remark dropped from Mr. Bennett, which was apparently to the effect that he was not.

"I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps you will enjoy it more a little later on. Now, what shall I do with you? I know."

Miss Jones pressed a little ivory b.u.t.ton, which was one of a row set in a frame of wood against the wall.

"That rings an electric bell in Hannah's room. I often ring her down in the middle of the night to be experimented on. She comes directly.