And now my mind took a new turn of
thought. There was the confused, unmistakable glare of insanity in the
man's eyes. Half unconsciously, I leaned back on my cushions and placed
a hand upon the dagger in my kummerbund.
"The stranger noticed the movement, and, lunatic though he undoubtedly
appeared to be, interpreted my thoughts.
"'Be not afraid of me, master,' he said. 'This is the only weapon I
carry.'
"And with these words he slipped off a silken scarf that he had been
wearing loosely around his throat, and tossed it on the carpet between
us.
"Now was I all the more confirmed in my estimate of his madness. To call
such a thing a weapon!--a strip of soft fabric that might kill a
butterfly but would be poor defence indeed to rely on against sword or
dagger. I suppose I smiled contemptuously, for again the man read my
thoughts.
"Then instantly did he do a thing that made my blood run cold. With a
toss of the scarf into the air, he formed it into a noose, and this he
threw over one upbended knee. Next with a swift twist of fierce hands he
drew the knot tight, and so terribly realistic was his action that for
the moment I saw above his knee the contorted mouth and protruding eyes
of his suddenly strangled victim.
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