CHAPTER XIII.
A FIGHT FOR MY INDIVIDUALITY.
I felt I must ask someone about the "Secret Service."
Long ago I had heard of the terrible Secret Service of Russia and felt somehow as if I had some knowledge of something which I ought to make known.
These terrible fears were made more terrible because there always seemed to be one voice which warned me that I must not make these things known.
I sent for Mont Jones and asked him.
He said he thought the Secret Service was long ago out of date. I told him a little of what I was going through but the second voice kept holding me back from saying much and dinning indecent language into my ears. So I could only half voice my fears and still kept the worst part of my trouble locked up within me.
During the afternoon I had been telepathing quite easily with one voice that had a measured and cultured tone—But I had told it of my trouble and my resentment at feeling that people were reading from my mind—snatching from my mind all my past. This voice did not in so many words defy me to disclose what I had been through, but when Mont came I was telling him something of what I had been through—it let some indecent words fly round the room, so that it seemed to me that they were flying about and trying to get into Mont's consciousness and to hinder me from making any disclosure by showing me what they would disclose if the matter were cleared up. Something they had discovered from my past.
Mont asked me some questions and looked thoughtful and begged me to go and see some doctor he named.
He went away thinking.
"Perhaps the place here is haunted," I said.
Wearily I tried to battle with the awful influence. There were two ways it came.
There would be a feeling of stinging warmth all over me, a quickened beating of the heart and a ragging of my nerves till I would sigh and beg for mercy, and felt that I could kill myself or anyone else.
"Who are you?" I would ask.
Patrick, my protector, was always there. He, too, would protest at times but he seemed as little able to cope with them as I was.
"Who are you?" I would repeat.
