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"Elizabeth Mwres--the girl--"
The hypnotist tried to free himself; he rose to his feet. Denton's grip
tightened.
"
Let go!" cried the hypnotist, thrusting an arm against Denton's chest.
In a moment the two men were locked in a clumsy wrestle. Neither had the
slightest training--for athleticism, except for exhibition and to afford
opportunity for betting, had faded out of the earth--but Denton was not
only the younger but the stronger of the two. They swayed across the
room, and then the hypnotist had gone down under his antagonist. They
fell together....
Denton leaped to his feet, dismayed at his own fury; but the hypnotist
lay still, and suddenly from a little white mark where his forehead had
struck a stool shot a hurrying band of red. For a space Denton stood
over him irresolute, trembling.
A fear of the consequences entered his gently nurtured mind. He turned
towards the door. "No," he said aloud, and came back to the middle of
the room. Overcoming the instinctive repugnance of one who had seen no
act of violence in all his life before, he knelt down beside his
antagonist and felt his heart. Then he peered at the wound. He rose
quietly and looked about him. He began to see more of the situation.
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