I read over my notes of what the woman said when she spoke about her
powers. There is one point which fills me with dismay. She implies
that when the influence is slight the subject knows what he is doing,
but cannot control himself, whereas when it is strongly exerted he is
absolutely unconscious. Now, I have always known what I did, though
less so last night than on the previous occasions. That seems to mean
that she has never yet exerted her full powers upon me. Was ever a man
so placed before?

Yes, perhaps there was, and very near me, too. Charles Sadler must
know something of this! His vague words of warning take a meaning now.
Oh, if I had only listened to him then, before I helped by these
repeated sittings to forge the links of the chain which binds me! But
I will see him to-day. I will apologize to him for having treated his
warning so lightly. I will see if he can advise me.

4 P. M. No, he cannot. I have talked with him, and he showed such
surprise at the first words in which I tried to express my unspeakable
secret that I went no further. As far as I can gather (by hints and
inferences rather than by any statement), his own experience was
limited to some words or looks such as I have myself endured. His
abandonment of Miss Penclosa is in itself a sign that he was never
really in her toils. Oh, if he only knew his escape! He has to thank
his phlegmatic Saxon temperament for it. I am black and Celtic, and
this hag's clutch is deep in my nerves. Shall I ever get it out?
Shall I ever be the same man that I was just one short fortnight ago?

Let me consider what I had better do. I cannot leave the university in
the middle of the term. If I were free, my course would be obvious. I
should start at once and travel in Persia. But would she allow me to
start? And could her influence not reach me in Persia, and bring me
back to within touch of her crutch? I can only find out the limits of
this hellish power by my own bitter experience. I will fight and fight
and fight--and what can I do more?

I know very well that about eight o'clock to-night that craving for her
society, that irresistible restlessness, will come upon me. How shall
I overcome it? What shall I do? I must make it impossible for me to
leave the room. I shall lock the door and throw the key out of the
window. But, then, what am I to do in the morning? Never mind about
the morning. I must at all costs break this chain