"You are probably right darling, but from now on we shall really get acquainted."
"Leave me alone and let me go! I am not your darling."
But the man's grip tightened on her wrist and was very painful. It felt like the flame from a blow lamp. She struggled and scratched his face deeply, but in vain. He seemed not only invulnerable but also insensitive to pain. He was really a horrible monster.
He began to talk again. His voice sounded as though it came from some very remote land; it was dull, cold and evil.
"You are afraid of me, aren't you? You think I am going to kill you. You think I am a necrophile and will only like your body when it is lifeless. Are my guesses correct, darling?"
Beatrice was even more shocked. The man was a thought-reader.
Her face was now white with terror.
"I am a necrophile, but you don't need to be afraid of me as I am not going to kill you. I just want to know the way to the nearest mortuary," he roared with laughter.