do. One can’t go to the police and say that a man has cast a magic spell on his wife.”
“Then you believe it too?” said Susie.
“I don’t know what I believe now,” he cried. “After all, we can’t do anything if she chooses to go back to her husband. She’s apparently her own mistress.” He wrung his hands. “And I’m imprisoned in London! I can’t leave it for a day. I ought not to be here now, and I must get back in a couple of hours. I can do nothing, and yet I’m convinced that Margaret is utterly wretched.”
Susie paused for a minute or two. She wondered how he would accept the suggestion that was in her mind.
“Do you know, it seems to me that common methods are useless. The only chance is to fight him with his own weapons. Would you mind if I went over to Paris to consult Dr. Porhoët? You know that he is learned in every branch of the occult, and perhaps he might help us.”
But Arthur pulled himself together.
“It’s absurd. We mustn’t give way to superstition. Haddo is merely a scoundrel and a charlatan. He’s worked on our nerves as he’s worked on poor Margaret’s. It’s impossible to suppose that he has any powers greater than the common run of mankind.”
“Even after all you’ve seen with your own eyes?”
“If my eyes show me what all my training assures me is impossible, I can only conclude that my eyes deceive me.”
“Well, I shall run over to Paris.”
