"Be careful of Rhamda, Harry. And above all don't let him have the
ring."

"Why?"

"Because. Now listen. I'm not laying this absolutely, understand.
Nevertheless the facts all point in one direction. Hold the ring.
Somewhere in that lustre lies a great secret; it controls the
Blind Spot. The Rhamda himself may not take it off your finger.
You are immune from violence. Only the ring itself may kill you."

He coughed.

"God knows," he spoke, "it has killed me."

It was rather ominous. The mere fact of that cough and his
weakness was enough. One would come to this. He had warned me, and
he had besought me with the same voice as the warning.

"But what is the Blind Spot?"

"Then you take the ring? What is the time? Twelve. Gentlemen--"

Now here comes in one of the strange parts of my story--one that I
cannot account for. Over the shoulder of Dr. Hansen I could watch
the door. Whether it was the ring or not I do not know. At the
time I did not reason. I acted upon impulse. It was an act beyond
good breeding. I had never done such a thing before. I had never
even seen the woman.