In spite of all that he had said to us about her, he had received
the glance as a signal and was fluttering over to her like a moth
to a flame.
What was the reason back of it all, I asked, as I thought of those
wonderful eyes of hers? Was it a sort of auto-hypnotism? There
was, I knew, a form of illusion known as ophthalmophobia--fear of
the eye. It ranged from mere aversion at being gazed at all the
way to the subjective development of real physical action from an
otherwise trivial objective cause. Perhaps Inez was right about
the eyes. One might fear them, and that fear might cause the
precise thing to happen which the owner of the eyes intended.
Still, as I reflected before, there was a much more important
problem regarding eyes before us, that of the drug that was
evidently being used in the cigarettes. What was it?
There was no chance of our gleaning anything now from these two
who made such a strange pair. Kennedy turned and went out of the
nearest entrance of the hotel.
"Central Park, West," he directed a cab driver, as we climbed in
his machine; then to me, after giving the number, "I must see Inez
Mendoza again before I can go ahead."
Inez was not expecting us so soon after leaving her at the hotel,
yet I think was just a little glad that we had come.
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