"If you believe in prayer," he said, "go down on your knees where you are and pray as you have never prayed for anything before that you may not see him again. There has never been a man or a woman yet who has not been the worse for knowing him. He is like the pestilence that walketh in the darkness, poisoning every one that is in the way of his horrible infection."
Wolfenden pulled himself together. There was no doubt about his companion's earnestness, but it was the earnestness of an unbalanced mind. Language so exaggerated as his was out of keeping with the times and the place.
"Tell me some more about him," he suggested. "Who is he?"
"I won't tell you," Felix answered, obstinately.
"I don't know. It is quite enough for me to know that she is his companion for the moment."
"You do not intend to be communicative, I can see," said Wolfenden, after a brief pause, "but I wish I could persuade you to tell me why you attempted his life to-night."
"There was the opportunity," said Felix, as if that in itself were sufficient explanation. Then he smiled enigmatically. "There are at least three distinct and separate reasons why I should take his life,--all of them good. Three, I mean, why I should do it. But I have not been his only victim. There are plenty of others who have a heavy reckoning against him, and he knows what it is to carry his life in his hand. But he bears a charmed existence. Did you see his stick?"
"Yes," said Wolfenden, "I did. It had a peculiar stone in the handle; in the electric light it looked like a huge green opal."
"That is it. He struck me with a stick. He would not part with it for anything. It was given him by some Indian fakir, and it is said that while he carries it he is proof against attack."
"Never mind," said Felix. "It's enough that it is said." He relapsed into silence, and when he next spoke his manner was different. His excited vehemence had gone and there was nothing in his voice or demeanour inconsistent with normal sanity. Yet his words were no less charged with deep intention. "I do not know much about you, Lord Wolfenden," he said; "but I beg you to take the advice I am offering you. No one ever gave you better in your life. Avoid that man as you would avoid the plague. Go away before he looks you up to thank you for what you did. Go abroad, anywhere; the farther the better; and stay away for ever, if that is the only means of escaping his friendship or even his acquaintance."