But there was no scar.
For one moment the heaven of Syme again grew black with supernatural terrors.

Surely the man had a charmed life.

But this new spiritual dread was a more awful thing than had been the mere spiritual topsy-turvydom symbolised by the paralytic who pursued him.

The Professor was only a goblin; this man was a devil--perhaps he was the Devil! Anyhow, this was certain, that three times had a human sword been driven into him and made no mark.

When Syme had that thought he drew himself up, and all that was good in him sang high up in the air as a high wind sings in the trees.