3 1822 01097 1547
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 3 1822 01097 1547 
 
 PHARMACY 
 
 PLYMOUTH 
 MICH.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER
 
 Her blonde hair gave her face a setting of wondrous beauty.
 
 By 
 FREDERICK A. RAY 
 
 Author of 
 " Maid of the Mohawk" 
 
 THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 Boston, Massachusetts 
 
 1908
 
 Copyright, 1908, 
 
 By 
 THE C. M. CLARK. PUBLISHING CO., 
 
 Boston, Massachusetts, 
 U. S. A. 
 
 AH rightt reserved.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 SATANISM, according to The New International 
 Encyclopedia, is the cult of Satan and an important 
 phase of occultism. From the character of its wor 
 ship it is necessarily secret, and precise details are 
 difficult to acquire. The impression which generally 
 prevails, however, that Satanism is a recent and 
 spasmodic outburst of diabolical sacrilege, is in 
 correct. The cult is an old one, and in its origin 
 reaches far back into the primitive religion, while it 
 is apparently a conglomerate of at least three en 
 tirely distinct components. Considering first the 
 actual phenomena presented by Satanism, it may be 
 that the cult reaches its acme in the Black Mass, 
 which stands to it in the same relation as stands the 
 White (or Christian) Mass to the Catholic Church. 
 The Black Mass is the direct opposite of the White 
 Mass. The celebrant of the Mass, who must have 
 been a priest, is clad only in his sacrificial vestments, 
 of which the chasuble may bear the figure of a goat, 
 while the scarlet biretta is held by a woman dressed 
 
 iii
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 in scarlet, who serves as deacon. Upon the altar is 
 an inverted cross. Incense is used during the Mass, 
 but is mingled with some foul-smelling substance. 
 The Black Credo, which is a blasphemous antithesis 
 of the Apostles creed, is then recited. 
 
 The form of the sacrifice of the Mass itself has 
 changed since the seventeenth century. In the 
 mediaeval period, and as late as the famous Black 
 Masses performed by Abbe Guibourg on the persons 
 of Mme. de Montespan and others, the altar was the 
 reclining body of a nude woman, who held in her 
 outstretched hands the lighted candles. 
 
 The history of Satanism is obscure. Attempts 
 have been made to prove Gilles de Laval, Baron de 
 Retz (1396-1440) (see Bluebeard), to have been 
 one of its first adherents. It existed pertinaciously 
 with a recrudescence in the reign of Louis XIV., 
 and is still practiced, especially in France, but prob 
 ably in lessening degree. Its American stronghold 
 is said by some to have been the ill-fated city of 
 Saint Pierre in Martinique.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER, 
 
 BOOK I. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " MR. DURAND, the president would like to see 
 you in his office." So spoke a voice over the 
 shoulder of Herbert Durand, as he footed the last 
 balance on the open ledger before him, preparatory 
 to putting the books into the great vault at his back 
 and leaving the bank for the night. 
 
 The banking-house in which Durand worked was 
 similar to many others that teem lower Broadway, 
 and Wall Street in the great city of New York. 
 
 Durand himself is entitled to some introduction. 
 Born and reared amidst bucolic scenes, his parents 
 sacrificed much that he might have a college edu 
 cation. This completed, on the recommendation of 
 one of his professors he secured the position he 
 now occupied, that of clerk and accountant in a de 
 partment which dealt with the investment of the 
 people s funds and the large surplus of the bank. 
 
 1
 
 2 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 A man with self-respect makes a good servant. 
 He who is proud seldom fails. Perhaps this trait of 
 Durand s was noticed by the professor who recom 
 mended him. Perhaps it was noted by the far-seeing 
 bank president, whose long experience had made 
 him a psychologist. At any rate it was one of Dur 
 and s chief assets, for few persons believed more in 
 themselves than he did. Not as a fool who thinks 
 himself wise, but he had an inborn consciousness of 
 self-esteem, an accessory which, to be used suc 
 cessfully, must be well guarded. Pride, belief in 
 himself, outward honesty and every-day service 
 had made of him an employee who enjoyed the 
 confidence of his employer, and who possessed the 
 respect of his fellow employees. 
 
 For ten years he had sat at his desk. No murmur 
 of discontent ever escaped him. Feeling that his 
 interests were safe-guarded, for his salary had been 
 advanced from time to time, he had found no fault 
 with his surroundings outwardly, giving evidence 
 to the scrutinizing president that no discontent 
 that destroyer of good service rankled in his heart. 
 
 Little was known about him by his fellow em 
 ployees save that he was a bachelor, living alone 
 somewhere, and that he was punctilious in his dress 
 and conscientious in his work, kindly but not 
 confidential in his manner. None of them had vis 
 ited him; none had been invited. His holidays he
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 3 
 
 apparently spent by himself, and the planned frivoli 
 ties of the others always excluded him. At first 
 they invited him to go along. These invitations he 
 invariably declined, graciously, of course, for he 
 was always the gentleman. After a few times, as 
 a matter of course, these invitations ceased, and to 
 him, who wanted isolation from his fellows socially, 
 it was granted. Yet if one of them experienced dif 
 ficulty in balancing intricate and evasive deals in 
 finance, Durand was sought. Was one sick or ab 
 sent, his share in the work was shouldered by 
 Durand, the man whom all viewed alike with re 
 spect and awe. 
 
 He talked but little to those about him, seeming 
 to prefer silence to conversation, yet when drawn 
 out exhibited remarkable powers of conversation, 
 tinctured with anecdotes, knowledge of a general 
 nature, history and finance. But of the latter he 
 talked but little to anyone, as though he cared not 
 to talk " shop," or that the subject by familiarity 
 was stale and contemptible. 
 
 None perhaps, save the president, whose business 
 it was to know, knew of his origin or education. 
 To have said that this polished and quiet man was 
 reared in pastoral places would have seemed in 
 congruous, for he was the very antithesis of his 
 early environments. He seemed to have always
 
 4 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 known and sought the haunts and the habits of the 
 so-called and accepted refined classes. 
 
 Herbert Durand was too well versed in business 
 mannerisms to show any outward surprise when the 
 president wished to see him. Yet he was surprised. 
 The time was Saturday, the end of the month and of 
 the quarter year when financial institutions make 
 changes in the clerkships, vote to repair offices or 
 increase a surplus. It was also just after the noon 
 hour Saturday, preceding the half holiday a half 
 holiday given tired and overworked clerks. 
 
 The books stored in the vault Durand made his 
 way to the back of the office past the rows of clerks 
 engaged in finishing tasks, and rapping on the door 
 of the president s private office, in response to the 
 admonition from the inside to " come in," he en 
 tered. 
 
 The president, Charles Graham, a gentlemanly, 
 well-dressed, urbane man of fifty, sat back in his 
 chair, idly toying with his eyeglasses as if in deep 
 thought. He raised his eyes as Durand entered. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Durand," he said, ".be seated." 
 
 Durand was seated close by and exactly in front 
 of the man who had commanded him. If he realized 
 that he was at the parting of the ways, his outward 
 demeanor gave no sign of any such presentiment. 
 Calmly and coldly he looked his superior officer in 
 the eye.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 5 
 
 Silence for a moment, as these men faced each 
 other, both quiet and collected, both of mobile 
 countenance and eyes of steel, each feeling himself 
 the equal of the other in case gigantic nerve or other 
 heroics should be called into play. The president 
 uneasily stroked his gray beard, pulled down the 
 lower vest over his rotund stomach and adjusted 
 the fob of his watch, his eye resting occasionally on 
 the other. Strange to say, although his words that 
 were to follow would be harsh, yet his glance bore 
 in it no hatred, but rather admiration for the man 
 before him. 
 
 Suavely he commenced. " A man to be a success 
 in a banking institution must be an automaton; he 
 must have the docility of a horse and the wisdom 
 and secrecy of an owl. He must not talk nor act 
 save by the permission of others. He must be 
 always honest. But can he be, if he uses the secrets 
 of the bank to his own advantage? " and he looked 
 sharply at Durand. " Perhaps so at first, but 
 should there come a pinch, he will falsify." 
 
 The president arched his eyes and looked steadily 
 at the man before him. If Durand knew what was 
 implied he gave no sign. Passive was his counte 
 nance. Cold-blooded hardly describes the man who 
 could sit and hear his honesty questioned without 
 deigning to notice the accusation. 
 
 The president continued : " You understand then
 
 6 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 why I called you here. Here is the salary due you. 
 I am sorry for you, Durand. Personally I like and 
 respect you. We can hardly expect to fill your place, 
 sir. You are an efficient man. I ah, any recom 
 mendation you may care for I will gladly sign. 
 You may edit anything in this line you care to say." 
 
 The other s cold gray eyes gleamed at the speaker 
 for a minute. " Well, should I need recommenda 
 tion I will come to you. I thank you for the offer." 
 You understand, do you not? I would like to 
 keep you in our employ, but, sir," and he laughed 
 lightly, " you know too much, Durand." 
 
 Herbert Durand arose, drew himself up to his 
 full height and said, " Good evening, sir." 
 
 The president extended his hand, which Durand 
 haughtily took and as haughtily looked into the 
 other s face a moment and then withdrew. 
 
 The clerks had all left as he passed out, relieving 
 him of the necessity of saying " good-bye," which 
 he probably would not have said. 
 
 Hailing a cab he gave the driver some directions, 
 and in full view of the president, who had followed 
 him out, drove away. As the president saw the 
 extravagance of his former clerk in taking a cab he 
 was a bit surprised. Durand had never dared to 
 indulge in this piece of extravagance so openly in 
 sight of his fellows at the bank, much less to the 
 president. No wonder the latter thought him twice
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 7 
 
 bold who would thus expose his extravagant 
 methods to one who knew so well of his dismissal 
 and the reasons therefor. 
 
 " Well, well," said the president, " he was a valu 
 able man, and yet, now that he has gone, I believe 
 him a dangerous one." 
 
 Could he have heard the order given to the driver, 
 could he have looked in on his discharged clerk as, 
 an hour later, when at Delmonico s he sat at lunch, 
 the spread of which he partook would have given 
 the president another surprise. 
 
 Durand finished his lunch in about an hour, and 
 found his way to the polo grounds where he watched 
 an exhibition of the great American game between 
 representative clubs of two Eastern cities. The 
 game finished, he made his way back to the city, 
 strolled leisurely up Broadway for exercise and at 
 seven was again to be seen at Delmonico s, where he 
 again tempted the gods to envy by reason of the 
 sumptuousness of his repast. Satiety being reached, 
 he made his way uptown again by cab. 
 
 We again see him later, entering an uptown 
 apartment house, and as he will figure largely in 
 our tale, let us be bold and follow him into the 
 sanctity of his own apartments. 
 
 The spacious rooms of his domicile were richly 
 furnished with tapestry hangings and oriental trap 
 pings. Polished floors scarcely showed through the
 
 8 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 coverings of Eastern rugs ; statuary-capped pedestals 
 were in cosy corners; the walls were covered with 
 costly paintings; scattered about were easy and 
 luxurious chairs and settees in leather and damask. 
 The library at the back was the veritable den of a 
 nabob. A large fireplace greeted the eye as one 
 entered. In the center of the room a chair of carved 
 antique design in mahogany, stood exactly at the 
 front of the chimney draft, while the balance of the 
 furnishings were scattered about as if the owner 
 were accustomed to entertain. The sideboard open 
 ing in the wall told its own story, and one might 
 imagine that fine Madeira and rare old Port would 
 be visible should those paneled doors be opened. 
 Upon the richly carved table, whose beautifully 
 carved and heavy legs seemed to give ample sup 
 port, lay the current magazines, a book or two, and 
 some papers, a can of odorous tobacco and several 
 pipes and other paraphernalia that proclaim a 
 bachelor s home and furnish his pastime and enjoy 
 ment. The appointments of these rooms, from the 
 library to the sleeping room of the owner, were 
 indications that their owner was a lover of ease and 
 semi-wealth; yet, few others had ever been invited 
 within these precincts, for the owner preferred to 
 enjoy them in solitude.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DURAND entered his rooms, handed his coat and 
 hat to his only man servant, assuming a cold and 
 dignified manner that came easily to him, returned 
 the " good evening " given and walked into the 
 library, his favorite haunt where he often sat and 
 smoked and schemed. The time was early summer 
 and not very warm, and as usual when moody or 
 perplexed, he ordered a fire built upon the hearth, 
 watching the process of its building with apparent 
 interest. 
 
 You may go now, Perkins," he said, when it 
 was flaming up brightly. " I shall not want you 
 again to-night." 
 
 Perkins left the room to return a moment later. 
 
 Your mail, sir," he said as he placed one letter 
 upon the table and withdrew. 
 
 Taking no notice of the letter, as though he 
 might think it the receipt for the gas bill or a state 
 ment from his tailor, he seated himself in the com 
 fortable and spacious chair already described; 
 reached for his pipe and box of tobacco, and with
 
 io THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 deliberate movements filled the former to the brim; 
 lighted a waxed match from a silver safe which he 
 took from his waistcoat pocket, and, as he blew out 
 a great cloud of smoke, flicked the burned match 
 into the fire before he settled back to think, and I 
 was about to say, to dream. But dream is hardly 
 the word, for Durand never indulged in dreams 
 while awake; solid thought and consideration were 
 his instead. A man at ease and alone can think 
 properly. To the man with a full stomach thinking 
 becomes philosophizing. A certain amount of re 
 trospection is good for one when a crisis is near at 
 hand. Intuitively Durand s thoughts turned back 
 to the pastoral idyl of his childhood ; to the struggle 
 through his youth, a struggle with poverty as his 
 father battled to win the rural acres by hard work 
 and economy; how as the years went by his father 
 partially succeeded and he and the good old mother 
 had sacrificed everything for him, their only son. 
 Yet he did not experience any deep emotions of 
 love or gratitude on this account. 
 
 He thought of his college days, of his classmates 
 in particular; wondered where each was; recalled 
 many instances of those days spent in college, pleas 
 ant and unpleasant ; but in none of his thoughts did 
 a feminine form or voice enter. No, this was not 
 for him. His thoughts ran on to the time he had 
 come to New York, of the meager salary that had
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. n 
 
 been his, how magnificent it looked then, but how 
 small and mean now. Tracing his existence method 
 ically down through the decade he had served the 
 bank, his thoughts stopped as he came abruptly 
 against the incident of the day. 
 
 Many men who suddenly find themselves thrown 
 out of employment have been unnerved ; some have 
 despaired and wept; others have found a remedy in 
 suicide, but as this man s mind reverted to his dis 
 charge, for the first time in many days he smiled. 
 Graham came into his mind. " It is something to 
 be great," he said aloud. Then he added, " But it 
 is greater to be rich." 
 
 However, he was not buoyed up by reason of his 
 discharge. Far from it, he really regretted it; yet 
 he regretted not because he might be idle, but the 
 bank had been of much use to him. He had made its 
 interests subservient to his own, and at this he again 
 smiled, but his great assurance and complacency 
 held him up and over-rode anything adverse that 
 presented itself. Refilling his pipe he rested back 
 and going over the position carefully, murmured 
 aloud "What next?" 
 
 Leaving Durand to his own thoughts, not intrud 
 ing until later upon his reveries, let us explain fur 
 ther regarding this man. He has been a partial 
 enigma, a sort of man of mystery. 
 
 Considering Durand s character there was much
 
 12 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 in him, as a man of business, to admire. Method 
 ical and precise describes him well ; yet he had little 
 regard for the rights of others, using these rights to 
 his own advantage on all occasions, yet always sub 
 ordinating himself and all his interests, if need be, 
 to one thing. In the make up of this man there was 
 one motive, one idea, one thought that permeated 
 his brain at all times, one slogan that enthralled him 
 as it led him on. It was, to make money. At the 
 shrine of this goddess whom he worshipped, he had 
 sacrificed all pleasure that was not selfish. He had 
 not allowed others to entertain him, knowing that 
 entertainment would be expected in return; his 
 selfishness prompted him to reserve the beauty and 
 sumptuousness of his quarters to himself. Dining at 
 home or down town alone, yet dining well : person 
 ally denying himself nothing, giving nothing away; 
 seldom visiting his old home or parents, spending 
 his holidays by himself. He kept down, so far as 
 possible, expenses, yet at the same time enjoying 
 many things that are given those of wealth and re 
 finement. Such was he now. But there had been a 
 time when he had believed and practised the adage 
 of Shakespeare that " lowliness is young ambition s 
 ladder." 
 
 Entering the employ of the bank he was submis 
 sive and tractable, familiarizing himself with all 
 the details of its workings. His particular task was,
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 13 
 
 as we have said, in the investment department, to 
 which he applied himself with a display of vigor and 
 adaptability. His position there gave him excel 
 lent opportunity to study finance from the inside. It 
 did not take him long to discern certain things. In 
 deed his perception was acute, and seeing these 
 things he was not long in arriving at certain and 
 what proved to be beneficial conclusions. 
 
 The things he saw were these. At certain inter 
 vals the prices of securities as dealt in by the bank 
 on the stock exchange were subject to wide fluctu 
 ations in value, to periods of inflation when values 
 would soar skyward, when tales of fortunes so 
 colossal as to be " beyond the dreams of avarice " 
 w^ere common. In many cases he knew these stories 
 to be true. At other times he witnessed the shrink 
 ing of values, saw ruin and failure about him, read 
 of suicides and wrecked homes, caused by the 
 market being demolished. He saw no reason for 
 the swinging of the pendulum of finance on the bad 
 side, not that it caused him pangs of sympathy. He 
 heard talk in the bank of " scale buying " during 
 these panics. 
 
 Among the other things he observed was that in- 
 his capacity as accountant it happened invariably 
 that when values were high, the stocks were taken 
 from the vaults and disappeared into the great maw 
 of the market. Also, that during the depression the
 
 14 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 bank s funds were used freely in acquiring great 
 numbers of shares that went into the vaults of the 
 bank to disappear again when prices were higher. 
 
 Now Durand was impressionable, especially where 
 money was concerned. Indeed he early counted on 
 acquiring a fortune, and after two or three years of 
 service readily saw the manipulation and instantly 
 came to believe that this particular institution 
 worked in collusion with other banking houses 
 and trust companies, and he was^ impressed that by 
 watching the affairs that daily passed through his 
 hands, he was holding his finger upon the financial 
 pulse of the New World, so to speak. Knowing, 
 then, that the unsuspecting public were fleeced at the 
 will of the manipulator, he believed that the pulse 
 he counted daily was the pulse of the power behind 
 these manipulations. 
 
 Seeing these things, the inward desire for wealth 
 grew daily, as he saw others prosper by the means 
 described. He next carefully looked over every de 
 tail of speculation, and feeling that his inside knowl 
 edge would steer him away from the shoals and the 
 pitfalls that had engulfed others, he arrived at the 
 conclusion that the reward, if successful, was worth 
 a trial. Knowing what the marts creators were do 
 ing, how could he lose? 
 
 Believing that his conclusions were the voices of 
 fate calling to him to turn into the by-ways it
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 15 
 
 pointed out, that the tide in his affairs, if taken 
 at the flood would lead on to fortune, he made 
 small investments from time to time, watching 
 closely the attitude and the activities of the bank, 
 following out their lead as to the kinds and varie 
 ties of securities that he purchased. As his profits 
 accumulated, he reinvested the profits and shortly he 
 had made an amount that to him before had looked 
 fabulous. As his prosperity continued and grew 
 he moved from the one back room that for several 
 years had served as his home and went to the apart 
 ment that we have described. Sagely and without 
 fear he walked on in his pace of greed and gain, 
 suffering no pangs of conscience that he was dis 
 honorably using others secrets for his own profit. 
 No, not he, but rather was he elated at each new 
 turn of fortune s giddy whirl that in its revolution 
 dispensed shekels in his lap. But now this was over, 
 the days of sure speculation when he knew the 
 secret of how far to go and what to do. This was 
 the one thing he regretted. 
 
 Durand went carefully over the events of the 
 day and again smiled as he thought of the lapse of 
 time since he first speculated and smiled again as he 
 thought that the bank was a long time in learning 
 his secret, and in order to do so had resorted to the 
 insidious method, as he thought, of putting secret 
 service men upon his track, for banks can know if
 
 16 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 they care to, who are the customers of brokerage 
 firms. They had ferreted out his secret, and as if it 
 were the proper deduction under the circumstance he 
 said aloud and almost with glee, " I rejoice that they 
 deferred investigating me as long as they did." 
 
 This evening he spent, as he spent many others, in 
 solitude, and as the clock on the mantel chimed ten, 
 he arose preparatory to retiring. 
 
 The letter Perkins had laid on the table greeted 
 his eye. He took it up. The postmark was un 
 known to him. Leisurely he tore open the envelope 
 and read : 
 
 " My dear Durand : Recall if you can one of 
 your college friends whose name is attached below. 
 Can you come here for a few days ? ( See address 
 on this stationery as above.) Matters of importance 
 to you and to me prompt my request. I am dying 
 and wish to consult you about business matters. 
 Come if possible." 
 
 The letter was signed " Mortimer James." Du 
 rand turned the envelope about and again studied 
 the postmark. 
 
 " Huh," he murmured, " can go as well as not, 
 but where is this place located ? " 
 
 A guide-book of resorts located the place for him 
 as in the Adirondacks, giving him the key of the 
 route thereto. 
 
 Passing the sleeping room of Perkins, he called
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 17 
 
 out, " Pack my effects in the large bag early in the 
 morning and call me early also. I am going North 
 ward for a few days outing. You may have your 
 own time until I return." 
 
 If Perkins was surprised that his master should 
 do this unusual thing, his training forbade any re 
 ply otherwise than a respectful, " Yes, sir." 
 
 2
 
 i8 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THROUGH the wooded, mountainous and north 
 ern part of the Empire State on a joyous summer 
 day could be seen a buckboard, making its way over 
 a rough, rutty and root-grown road, under leafy 
 canopies that afforded almost perpetual shade, by 
 brooks where the speckled trout in appreciation of 
 the sunlight vaulted high and vaingloriously showed 
 their brilliantly dotted sides and white underneath. 
 Here and there a deer scented the encroaching occu 
 pants of the buckboard, and all unseen by these 
 occupants threw up its head and darted away, its 
 hoofs beating on the dry brush and leaves under 
 neath. These, with the cawings of crows and the 
 carol of innumerable small birds, were all the com 
 pany the travelers had. It was before the days 
 when railroads penetrated the forests, before the 
 ruthless destroyer-for-gain had carried away the 
 beauties that the country s flora afforded. 
 
 Beside the driver and the baggage stored behind 
 was he whose presence accounted for the journey.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 19 
 
 Straight and lofty he carried his head, while his 
 shoulders, square and broad, gave promise of great 
 strength. His eyes were dark gray, his hair black. 
 About him was visible the mark of pride and good 
 breeding. His face was a trifle too elongated to be 
 beautiful, yet bore a strange and piratical outline 
 that, combined with his deep-set, astute eyes and his 
 beak-like nose, would to those who admired his 
 style, be interesting. If there was a feature more po 
 tent than another it was the strong, square chin that 
 gave evidence of great strength, partially over 
 shadowed by a black mustache that covered the 
 mouth so effectively that it could only be seen when 
 he smiled, which was seldom. But after seeing the 
 whole face, excepting the mouth, the physiogno 
 mist would have guessed the mouth was cruel. The 
 easy manner of the man, combined with the un 
 wonted facial aspect, would also give evidence of 
 the ability to call forth in exigencies great cunning, 
 deceit and intrigue. 
 
 As they rode along, Herbert Durand, for it was 
 none other than he, who has been introduced before, 
 thought it not amiss to question the driver. Hav 
 ing no defined idea as to why he had been sum 
 moned, he realized that foreknowledge was fortifi 
 cation, if not predomination, and he sought to make 
 himself acquainted with facts pertaining to his sum 
 mons.
 
 20 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " You are connected with the hotel at P of 
 
 course? " he said to the driver. 
 
 " Yes, I am." 
 
 " Do you see Mr. James often ; he is at present 
 stopping there I think ? " peering at the newcomer 
 out of the corner of his eye. 
 
 : Yes," was replied, " I see him on the veranda 
 nearly every day." 
 
 "How is he?" 
 
 " Not much better, sir, but like all who come here 
 with his disease he thinks he is growing better." 
 
 "And his disease?" 
 
 " Consumption, sir." 
 
 A light broke over the face of Durand. He saw 
 why he had been so urgent; but the light was in 
 stantly followed by a frown, as he inwardly thought, 
 " Dying probably and in poverty also, else why 
 should I be invited to visit him? " 
 
 Turning to the driver he laconically asked, " Are 
 his surroundings proper?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, if you mean as to the hotel. He has a 
 nurse and all that money can do for him, sir. He is 
 rich, you know." 
 
 Durand s frown was affected instantly by the old- 
 time stolid expression, but his musings were far 
 different than a moment before. Like unto the 
 blood-hound in quest of fugitive humanity and once
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 21 
 
 more upon the trail, his cunning divined a different 
 reason for the summons. 
 
 The sun was yet an hour high and illuminated 
 the small lake in front, whose sheen cast beautiful 
 streamers over the broad clearing wherein was lo 
 cated this Mecca for sick humanity which they 
 sought. Science had not yet decreed that the able- 
 bodied and diseased should be separated, and the 
 sick and the strong mingled together, particularly if 
 the sick were rich. 
 
 On the veranda that surrounded the hotel at the 
 end of the circuitous drive up which Durand s con 
 veyance slowly came, a score of people were seated 
 exchanging pleasantries and keeping watch of the 
 approaching buckboard. One of their number kept 
 counsel as to his knowledge of their coming, as he 
 cared not for them to know the newcomer s mission. 
 He arose and walked down the veranda as Durand 
 alighted. He said in weakened tones, " Mr. Her 
 bert Durand I am sure." He followed up these 
 words by a spasm of coughing. 
 
 Durand looked uncomfortable meanwhile, but 
 when the paroxysm passed he replied, " You are 
 Mr. James, my old friend Mortimer, of whom I 
 have not heard these ten years." 
 
 ; Your own fault," said James. " I have looked 
 for you and have inquired among our classmates 
 several times, but so completely did you hide your-
 
 22 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 self that I only located you recently." Violent 
 coughing again convulsed his frame. 
 
 " Come," he added when it had passed, " I have 
 your room prepared for you, and dinner will be 
 served soon." 
 
 A light of pleasure shone in James face, such 
 a light as the other guests had not seen during their 
 acquaintance. They remarked about it as he with 
 Durand passed over the broad veranda and into the 
 hostelry. 
 
 We will not follow too closely into the rehabili 
 tation of friendship of these two, a friendship that 
 had commenced during college days. This alli 
 ance surprised the friends of James who regarded 
 him as a " jolly good fellow," thoughtful, careful 
 as to the right and the opinion of others, qualities 
 that are bound to make friends, without avarice. 
 Durand had scarcely any friends save James, and as 
 remarked by the friends of the former, possessed 
 traits and characteristics that were the exact an 
 tithesis of the other. James had refused to accept 
 membership in the fraternity to which he had been 
 elected, and in which Durand had been " black 
 balled." He had refused to become one of a theatre 
 party to which Durand had not been invited. This 
 had happened repeatedly. Ladies whom the college 
 men knew in the little city wherein was located the 
 college of which we speak found it impossible to
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 23 
 
 secure the attendance of James at their little social 
 affairs unless Durand was to be present, and it was 
 noted that James when invited to these affairs never 
 gave a decisive answer at once, delaying his accept 
 ance for a day or so. It was said he waited to give 
 Durand an opportunity to receive his invitation, and 
 if the latter was not forthcoming, the former was 
 met with a pleasant but not uncertain declination. 
 Men noticed this, and surmising they had misunder 
 stood the cold and conceited Durand had tried to 
 gain his friendship, and if possible his confidence, 
 and to understand him; to discover if possible the 
 reason for the preference of the man they courted 
 and desired for one they almost despised. But in 
 all these cases Durand so snubbed his would-be 
 friends that they had gone back to their comrades 
 and reported him unapproachable and undeserving. 
 He must be a magician who at his will can throw a 
 mighty spell about whom he cares to, or can with 
 equal dexterity send out a disagreeable atmosphere, 
 so they argued. 
 
 So might many instances be enumerated to show 
 this strange attachment that had existed between 
 two men who, as has been already stated, were vastly 
 different. Money affairs were said to worry 
 Durand, as they have worried many young 
 collegians, and it was even hinted that Durand 
 made use of this friendship to further his own
 
 24 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 finances. So it was not so very strange that 
 Mortimer James through the medium of his old 
 classmates had failed to locate the recreant Durand. 
 
 Dinner over, James feebly led the way to his own 
 suite, and when he and Durand were comfortably 
 seated in the little back parlor, he inquired, " Du 
 rand, what of yourself?" 
 
 Now Durand cared little to go into details of his 
 experience, and fearing to arouse the distrust of his 
 colleague, thought best to give the semblance of a 
 story regarding himself, which he did, telling of his 
 connection with the bank for years, omitting to state 
 his dismissal from the same, also the fact regarding 
 his speculations. 
 
 " Have you been with the bank long? " inquired 
 James. 
 
 " Yes, sir, years." 
 
 " They have confidence in you, that is certain." 
 
 Durand saw what was on James mind, and wish 
 ing to stimulate a notion that the bank had confi 
 dence in himself, said, " Oh, yes, the president and 
 I are quite chummy," and he laughed. " You know 
 I have charge of the investment accounts and only 
 yesterday I was called into his office, and we dis 
 cussed the topic for some little time." 
 
 The eyes of the other lit up with the old-time 
 confidence that Durand knew so well. 
 
 " I hope your salary is large; no doubt it is."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 25 
 
 " Nominally large, yes. On it I have been by a 
 course of frugality able to accumulate a small sum 
 that in time I hope to see enlarged." As he re 
 ferred to his fortune as small, his eyes scrutinized 
 the other closely as if searching for its effect. 
 
 " A good sign, a good sign," added the other. 
 " Honest accumulations are marks of thrift and 
 straightforwardness. I welcome the sign." 
 
 Had James grown out from under the influence of 
 the latter during their parting, there was no doubt 
 now but he was again under the sway of the latter s 
 will and had full confidence in him. 
 
 " But of yourself, Mortimer, what of you? Here 
 I am talking about myself as if I were invited here 
 just to let you know how I have fared. Now let s 
 get around to something more interesting. Tell me 
 of yourself." 
 
 " I am loath to change a pleasant subject for an 
 unpleasant one," was the rejoinder. " Yet why 
 shrink from telling you of my unpleasant, unhappy 
 existence of the past few years. Herbert Durand, 
 look upon me." 
 
 His eyes dilated, the hectic fever plainly showed 
 in his cheek, and unchecked excitement shook his 
 frame. " What I say to you I have never before 
 repeated. Look upon me and behold a man like 
 Esau of old who sold his birthright for paltry gold, 
 and is giving his life besides."
 
 26 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The invalid leaned back to rest and was seized 
 with a coughing spell so violent as to cause the cold 
 blooded Durand to fear for the safety of his friend 
 and to proffer assistance. 
 
 James waved him back and resumed, " When my 
 college days were over and I was full of hope, I cast 
 about for a vocation that would be to my liking and 
 one that would prove remunerative enough for me 
 to marry on. By the way, Durand, do you re 
 member the name of the girl I used to speak of dur 
 ing our former acquaintance? No? Well, tis not 
 surprising; women had few charms for you. Well, 
 that girl is the one I then hoped to marry, Helen 
 Reed, a sweet womanly girl whom I loved passion 
 ately, and through whose advice and encouragement 
 I succeeded fairly well at college." 
 
 " Yes, at the head of the class," commented the 
 other. 
 
 " Well, as I said, not having yet settled on any 
 business, I had leisure for a year, time enough for 
 me to make acquaintances in the society of the 
 small city where I then lived. And at a small house- 
 party I met another. Witty, vivacious, pretty, yet 
 changeable and at times irritable by reason of ill 
 health, was the petted woman of whom I now speak. 
 She was the heiress to a million, as rumor had it, 
 and both her parents were dead. But why prolong 
 the story? I broke off my engagement with Helen
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 27 
 
 Reed, and not being able to withstand the glitter 
 of gold, I married this petted woman of fortune. I 
 know I deserve censure for the adjective used in de 
 scribing her and don t misunderstand me, I never 
 gave her reason to think I regretted my change of 
 affection. Yet at times her shifting, effervescing 
 nature, so different from the quiet woman whom I 
 had first loved, made me feel that I had made a 
 mistake and paid dearly for the price of gold. 
 
 " During our second married year, a child came 
 to us, a daughter who took the place the mother 
 should have held in my heart. Soon after this the 
 mother was taken sick, twas a family disease, con 
 sumption at that, which weakened her highly 
 nervous body and to my sorrow carried her off. I 
 say sorrow because my respect for her had grown, 
 even though at times she was highly exacting and 
 nervously irritable. Her love for me and the 
 presence of the baby made me quite a man again. 
 Through all her sickness I could do for her what 
 she would allow none other to do, attending her 
 every want while the nurse sat by and wondered at 
 my fortitude and strength. 
 
 " Finally she died, leaving to me the care of the 
 darling daughter whose name she had chosen to be 
 Olive, together with her large fortune." 
 
 The other s eyes dilated. Had James suspicions 
 of the other s avarice, he would have heard Durand s
 
 28 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 breath coming and going fast, evidence that he 
 labored under great excitement. 
 
 James continued. " The fact of the fortune nearly 
 appalled me, not but what I could manage it. In 
 deed, I did that for a few years. I knew it was all 
 safely invested, yet I was overcome by the amount 
 the footing showed had been transferred to my own 
 name, and this was the first time I really possessed 
 the secret of the size of my wife s fortune, having 
 never asked her regarding its magnitude. To have 
 asked this would have humiliated my pride. You 
 know how I felt about it, Herbert, don t you? " 
 
 The other answered " Perfectly," although a fine 
 sentiment of that kind was entirely foreign to his 
 nature. 
 
 James continued. " I have paid dearly for the 
 price of gold. Durand, beware lest you do the 
 same." 
 
 Durand winced; why, he did not know. 
 
 " First I gave up love and happiness ; next I gave 
 up health and joy of living. For my devotion to 
 my wife through her illness, had weakened my own 
 physical vitality and unknowingly I had become a 
 prey to " the white plague," hence my condition 
 now. Her disease by contact has become my dis 
 ease; her fate is to be mine." 
 
 While Durand knew the sequel of the story would 
 make him glad that he came, and that James, by the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 29 
 
 time the sequel was really enacted would be dead, 
 yet he tried to affect a semblance of humanity, and 
 so said : 
 
 "Don t say so; don t, Mortimer, old man. It s 
 bad enough to be sure, but brace up. You are far 
 from the end and miracles are said to happen right 
 along. Who knows but something of the kind may 
 come to you. I know a physician who " 
 
 " Don t talk physician to me," answered James. 
 They are all right of course, but are baffled and 
 outdone by my disease. At times I believe I am 
 better, as do all my similarly afflicted friends; yet 
 again, I am aware of my peril and, as I said before, 
 my fate. But, Durand, I have fought the good 
 fight, I have tried to keep the faith, and but for my 
 daughter, Olive, now five years old, I would not 
 care to stay longer. I might have added to the list, 
 the woman whose love I spurned, but I did not, for 
 she now could hardly be expected to concern herself 
 about me, much less allow herself to care whether I 
 am alive or not. And yet I am to make a request of 
 her, and if she be found her generous nature will 
 then forgive me, to this extent, at least, that she 
 will comply. But of that later. During my married 
 life I lived somewhat secluded, and for this reason 
 I have found no intimate friend since I considered 
 you one. There are none in fact on whom I desire
 
 30 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 to cast the mantle of the custodianship of my child 
 and wealth." 
 
 What then, thought Durand, did he call me here 
 for? Perhaps a trust company will be named to 
 execute his will and be the guardian of his child. 
 But the thought had hardly formulated itself and 
 been telegraphed to his sensibilities before James 
 leaned confidentially forward, placed his hand on 
 Durand s knee and added : " None but you. You 
 are, with your consent, to be my executor and the 
 guardian of my child Olive." 
 
 " You flatter me, sir, with the offer, and astound 
 me with the responsibility. Do you mean it ? " said 
 the purring voice of Durand. 
 
 "Yes, I mean it, surely; the papers are signed. 
 After my death nothing remains for you to do but to 
 accept the responsibility." 
 
 " And the sum that I will have in charge? " asked 
 Durand, his imprudence and haste overcoming his 
 judgment. 
 
 James did not seem to notice the impudence of 
 the question, but leaned forward and whispered in 
 Durand s ear. The sum mentioned caused the color 
 to leave Durand s face. His friend did not notice 
 this. 
 
 The two men sat and looked long into each 
 other s faces, and strange to say, both their thoughts 
 ran along the same channel. How long would one
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 31 
 
 of them be in the land of the living? Both had 
 noticed the shortness of breath of the one. One had 
 experienced distressing pain; the other had seen its 
 reflection in his face. 
 
 As to his fast coming end, James was passive, 
 while Durand secretly hoped it would not long be 
 delayed. James was the first to break the silence. 
 
 " Do you think Helen Reed would undertake the 
 charge of my daughter ? " he asked. 
 
 Surely that would rid him of a great responsi 
 bility, thought Durand. The woman could be well 
 paid, and as he looked at it, that would be an in 
 ducement to anybody. " Yes," he answered, "why 
 not? Shall I so arrange with her?" 
 
 James thought for some time and faintly said, " I 
 desire it if you will. She is now a nurse some 
 where in New York. I am growing tired, very," 
 as he passed his hand across his brow, making an 
 effort to arise. Before the other could assist him 
 he fell back, back into his chair and gasped. 
 
 Durand coolly strode to him, and lifting the life 
 less hand, his sinister face meanwhile in doubt, he 
 felt for the pulse. 
 
 " My God ! " he exclaimed. " He is dead ; sooner 
 even than I thought." 
 
 Half an hour later the house physician pro 
 nounced the cause of his death as heart failure, in 
 duced by disease and probably excitement.
 
 32 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A DAY or so after Durand s return to New York, 
 he called upon his former employer, Mr. Charles 
 Graham, president of the institution in which he 
 formerly worked. Of course Mr. Graham showed 
 no surprise at the sight of Durand, and had Durand 
 needed any assurance, the manner of the bank presi 
 dent was reassuring. Mr. Graham could not guess 
 why Durand had called upon him, but it was policy 
 to be courteous always. 
 
 " Mr. Graham," Durand said, " the last time we 
 met I was discharged from your employ, and yet 
 to-day I return to ask a favor that you, as president 
 of this trust company, can grant. I wish advice from 
 time to time concerning the investment of a large 
 sum of money, so large that even you will marvel 
 at its size." 
 
 The urbane president purred softer than ever as 
 he almost meekly replied, " I will gladly give you 
 my advice as you request." 
 
 " I am sole executor of a large estate, and guar 
 dian of the child of the testator," Durand promptly
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 33 
 
 returned, " and so named without bond. The legal 
 requirements have been met and the wealth turned 
 bver to me. The effects of the estate, all bonds and 
 stocks, will, of course, be deposited in your vaults, 
 and your advice will be sought from time to time 
 as to the best investment and so on." 
 
 The president almost smiled at Durand, as he re 
 plied, " Any advice you may need will be forthcom 
 ing at once. Glad to do it, and glad you came to 
 us, sir." 
 
 Durand arose to go and as he did so a young 
 man, not over twenty, and with an air denoting 
 familiarity with the office entered. Graham has 
 tened to introduce Durand. 
 
 " My son, sir : Mr. Durand, Charles Graham, Jr. 
 Charles, this is Mr. Durand, a customer of our 
 house." 
 
 He shook the son s proffered hand, also the 
 father s and withdrew, laughing an ironical laugh 
 to himself and thinking, " Old Graham introduced 
 his son, did he? Have been in the office fifty times 
 when the boy was there, but this is the first intro 
 duction. Well, six years service gave me the key 
 to certain dealings that Graham would not allow to 
 come to light, and I guess he will never protest if 
 I want his silence at the price of mine." 
 
 On the death of Mortimer James, Durand had 
 given him a fitting burial, looked over the effects 
 3
 
 34 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 and found the will naming him as executor and 
 guardian; had found he had no close relative save 
 the daughter Olive. He found Olive to be a sweet 
 child of five, with a complexion to fit her name, 
 large innocent black eyes, and a confiding manner 
 that almost softened his heart. She had been left by 
 her father in charge of an old nurse. To this wom 
 an Durand explained his arrangements henceforth, 
 telling her of Helen Reed and that his duty was to 
 find her, and then the nurse would give the custody 
 of the child over to her new monitor. The nurse 
 regretfully consented to the arrangement. 
 
 Durand returned to New York, bringing with 
 him the old nurse and the child Olive. The second 
 day of his search, his efforts were rewarded by 
 finding her whom he sought in a well-known hos 
 pital. He had come in a carriage, bringing little 
 Olive, together with the old nurse. 
 
 After knowing that the woman had been illy used 
 by Mortimer James, he had expected open re 
 bellion at the proposition, and had wisely decided 
 that Olive s sweet, childish presence, and the re 
 semblance she bore to her dead father, would assist 
 in securing the consent of Helen Reed to the super 
 vision of the child. Durand seated himself in 
 the waiting-room of the hospital, while the matron 
 who had just informed him that the woman he
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 35 
 
 sought was on their staff, went and bade her to 
 come hither. 
 
 ** Durand s mind, as he waited, reverted to a cer 
 tain clause of the will, the will that he had wisely 
 brought with him in case proof of what he said 
 was needed; and he wondered if the woman would 
 accept the money, which this clause said was hers 
 and which also he had brought, even though she did 
 accept the custodianship of the daughter. Although 
 no fine point of honor would have stopped him, he 
 hoped she would hesitate at assuming the owner 
 ship of a fund that would make her appear to take 
 a bribe from a lost suitor. 
 
 As Helen Reed entered, Durand s face was a puz 
 zle. He had expected to behold a spinster-looking 
 individual, with straight lines and a preoccupied 
 air. Instead, Helen Reed looked a woman a few 
 years under thirty, tall and graceful, and ap 
 proached him with an easy, confident mien. Her 
 rich, luxuriant blonde hair formed a coronal about 
 her head, and though it bore a nurse s cap, yet it 
 was with the becomingness that a crown would 
 have reposed on the head of a queen. He noticed in 
 wonderment the perfect, tall figure, the full lines 
 of womanhood revealed beneath the white dress and 
 apron, but the face caused him to look twice into it 
 before he spoke, something no woman s face had 
 done before. Full red lips, that parted into curved
 
 36 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 lines at the ends, over a chin of delicate, yet firm 
 proportions, eyes alert and of deepest blue, a nose 
 of exquisite chiseling, straight and long. It is im 
 possible to know where Durand s mind would have 
 led him had not the cadence of a low and rhythmical 
 voice said to him, " You wished to see me, sir." 
 
 Durand had seen among James effects several 
 pictures of Mrs. James, a rather plain looking and 
 slightly built woman, and was inwardly soliloquiz 
 ing thus : " He never would have deserted this 
 woman had it not been for the fortune of the other." 
 
 Her voice brought him back to the situation. 
 Durand was a bit uncomfortable at being thus 
 caught in the act of admiring this woman whom 
 he had not known before. He was never uncom 
 fortable in the presence of men, but just for a mo 
 ment the presence of this magnificent looking 
 woman flustered him a trifle. He stammered : 
 " Pray be seated, madam. I have matters of im 
 portance to discuss with you." 
 
 The woman obeyed, although her countenance 
 plainly revealed surprise that an absolute stranger, 
 one whose face she already liked not, should have 
 matters to discuss with her. Durand hesitated a 
 moment before commencing, as if he knew not ex 
 actly how to begin. Bluntly he introduced his 
 mission, and bluntly came to the point. 
 
 " You once knew Mortimer James."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 37 
 
 Very low came the answer, " I did." 
 ^ " He is dead," continued Durand, " and for that 
 reason I am here to see you." 
 
 He noticed the color leave her face as she said, 
 " What has that to do with me? " 
 
 Then she caught herself quickly, and added, " I 
 am sorry to hear of his death." 
 
 " His death, madam, has much to do with you, 
 and with me." He added this last in a tone which 
 the woman thought to be almost gleeful. 
 
 " And pray tell me how it concerns me," she 
 said, almost in a whisper. 
 
 " In this way," he said, " it is rather a long story, 
 and I will follow brevity in the telling of it. 
 
 "Mortimer James is dead, as I said before; I 
 was with him when he died. He had sent for me 
 two days before, and I hastened to him, and was 
 barely there in time. You see he and I w r ere college 
 friends. Among the very few that he selected 
 as his close friends I was one, and the one he chose 
 to cheer him in his last hours, there being none 
 other." 
 
 " His his wife," faltered the other, " where was 
 she?" 
 
 " Dead a year before this. She left him the care 
 of a child also." 
 
 The woman was trembling violently. " A child, 
 you say ? "
 
 38 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Yes, a child, a daughter now five years old. 
 Beautiful too," he added, " with her father s dark 
 skin and handsome eyes and his princely carriage." 
 Again he noticed the violent agitation. " In fact," 
 he said, " a most lovable little girl ; I have fallen in 
 love with her already." 
 
 Durand had not thought but what he desired to 
 let this woman have the custody of the child. In 
 fact he was very anxious that this might occur. He 
 did not see how he could keep her himself, even 
 if the will had not stated he must leave her with 
 Helen Reed, providing she was willing. He was 
 glad a man was not mentioned instead of her. A 
 man might be inquiring into his management of the 
 estate. A woman, not understanding business af 
 fairs so well perhaps, could be easily handled; 
 hence his persuasiveness and the employment of 
 praise of little Olive and the reference to her like 
 ness to her father. 
 
 " You say she is a lovable child, Mr. Durand," as 
 she glanced at the name on the card. 
 
 " You will surely love her when you see her." 
 
 Taking advantage of the point he supposed 
 gained here, he said : " Now to business. Mr. 
 Mortimer James left a will. Among its provisions 
 was one directing me to place this child in your 
 keeping; the expense of her maintenance of course 

 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 39 
 
 to be met from the proceeds of the estate, of which 
 "am executor as well as guardian of the child." 
 
 The woman paid little attention to this. 
 
 " Olive, did you say, was her name? " 
 
 Durand smiled. He was getting on finely he told 
 himself. " Yes, Olive, a pretty name and fitting her 
 well," he said. " If you accept this proposition you 
 will of course leave the hospital and establish a 
 home for yourself and Olive, the expense of which 
 will be taken care of by me. What do you say? " 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 " I know it will interfere with your plans of 
 course; this matter has interfered with mine largely, 
 but why complain, friendship for the dead makes 
 demands upon us that are arduous, but they who 
 have not sacrificed have not fulfilled their mission. 
 Say you will consent." 
 
 It was fine sentiment for him to utter and one 
 he did not feel, but was forced by the exigencies of 
 the occasion. 
 
 " I don t know," she said. " True, it is good and 
 noble in one to sacrifice for others, but I am not 
 sure which way duty points; I don t see as yet." 
 
 Durand fumbled in his pocket and finally drew 
 forth a document, seal bedecked and secured with 
 a blue ribbon. It was the will of the late Mortimer 
 James. Durand had all along been conscious of the 
 existence of a certain clause in this document that
 
 40 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 he had so far kept secret from Helen Reed, holding 
 it back to use as a final argument. He never 
 doubted that its provisions would meet with her ap 
 proval and bring about the consummation of the 
 alliance between her and the child. " Miss Reed," 
 he began in a low tone, " there is something else 
 to say that is yet unsaid. Aside from the main 
 tenance of the child and excellent pay for your 
 trouble, our friend James did not forget that you 
 might have some outside needs that you necessarily 
 would be obliged to supply, and in view of this, let 
 me read you a certain clause of his will." 
 
 The woman made no reply; she knew not what 
 was coming. 
 
 Plainly Durand read : " And if the said Helen 
 Reed should accede to my request in the matter, as 
 suming control of my daughter Olive, I further 
 will and desire that on the day she assumes the 
 management of said child, my executors shall place 
 
 in her hands, together with title to the same," 
 
 here he read figures of a large denomination, 
 " or its equivalent in securities." 
 
 Durand never looked at the woman to see the 
 effect of this clause in the will. Instead, he laid the 
 will on his knee and took from his inside pocket a 
 package and held it toward her. "Here," he said, 
 " I have brought the securities." 
 
 The woman arose, fire blazing in her eyes, her
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 41 
 
 cheeks aflame, took the proffered securities and with 
 vehemence threw the packet on the floor. 
 
 "Cowardly!" she exclaimed. "He who jilted 
 me to insult me with an offer of money which he 
 won when he cast me aside, cowardly insult ! For 
 the sake of the little one, I might have acceded to his 
 request, but this offer of money as a solace ! Bah ! 
 To live a life of loneliness is bad enough, but this 
 insult is unbearable. Take your money, his money, 
 her money with you, please ! Go from my presence; 
 leave, I say go ! " 
 
 " But, madam, calm yourself; it might be worse; 
 it might be worse. Few there are who would cast 
 aside this offer; few who would spurn a present of 
 this magnitude. I would take it, and why not 
 you?" 
 
 You would take it," she hotly exclaimed; " then 
 you too are base and mercenary. You were his col 
 lege friend. Then truly you know what existed 
 between him and me ; knew that I was his promised 
 wife; knew that for a petted society woman and 
 her money I was cast aside, and you advise me to 
 take his money. Never! You are mercenary or 
 you would not so taunt me. For this advice I dis 
 trust you already. You have had little to do with 
 real manhood or real womanhood, or you would 
 have kept the contents of that will to yourself. I 
 distrust you."
 
 42 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Outside, the intense heat of a summer day beat 
 down upon the carriage. The driver leisurely shift 
 ed about on his seat, while inside, the old nurse 
 who had grown tired at the long delay, overcome 
 by the enervating effect of the heat, nodded con 
 tentedly. Olive amused herself eating the bon 
 bons, looking at the flowers and the picture books 
 Durand had purchased for her en route, until she 
 too grew tired of being inside the carriage, and slip 
 ping past the sleepy old woman, stepped out on to 
 the sidewalk. Some sparrows were playing about 
 underneath the horses and carriage. They attracted 
 her attention. Crumbling the bonbons she threw 
 the fragments toward them. The little fellows, ever 
 alert for a dinner, flew down and eagerly devoured 
 what she threw to them. As eager as they in her 
 pleasure, she was about to repeat the performance 
 when she took a step backward and fell headlong 
 off the curbing and under the feet of the horses. 
 
 The driver had noticed her presence outside, and 
 what she was doing, and seeing no harm in it, he 
 had been a pleased observer, and he hardly realized 
 that she had fallen, until her screams and the rear 
 ing of the horses jarringly called his attention. The 
 woman inside awoke with a start. The driver 
 leaped down from the box with great alacrity. 
 
 In the hospital the two combatants were in the 
 midst of their argument when through the open
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 43 
 
 window there floated the scream of the girl. Durand 
 rushed out and before the clumsy coachman or the 
 sleepy care-taker could reach the prostrate child, he 
 was on the scene. Picking the little one from her 
 dangerous position, and doing as his quick mind 
 prompted him to do in the interests of the object 
 of his visit, he bore Olive into the waiting-room, 
 while she sobbed in his arms. 
 
 "Dear little thing, isn t she, sir?" said Helen 
 Reed. "Who is she?" 
 
 Durand answered not as if he heard not. 
 
 " Are you hurt, dearie ? " asked the woman of the 
 child. 
 
 " Not very, I guess, only frightened," Durand 
 answered for her. 
 
 " May I take her, sir? " she asked. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 She seated herself as Durand placed the still cry 
 ing child in her arms. 
 
 "Pretty dear, are you very much frightened? 
 You might have been killed. It is too bad the horsie 
 frightened the little girlie." 
 
 Helen Reed dropped into the nursery vernacular 
 while Durand indulged in an inward smile. 
 
 This sympathy soon quieted Olive. Then her 
 new-found friend looked her over scrutinizingly for 
 possible bruises, but save for a soiled frock no harm 
 had been done. For the first time she looked at her
 
 44 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 face closely. Up to this time, the crying of the 
 child and the excitement of the occasion had pre 
 cluded this. Durand watched closely and saw the 
 woman look again and then turn pale. 
 
 " You know who she is, do you not ? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " I say," he repeated, " you recognize the child? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, " it is his child," and the woman 
 cried. 
 
 Durand asked no more questions. He saw the 
 struggle that was taking place in her heart as she 
 would convulsively hug the child to her breast, and 
 between her tears hold her at arm s length and 
 look into her face. 
 
 Slowly came to Helen Reed a reawakening of the 
 old passion, the old love itself perhaps rekindled, 
 the lighting up of the smouldering embers that had 
 once burned for the father, whom now she despised. 
 Phoenix-like from the dead past awoke a new desire, 
 a love second only to a mother s affection and like 
 unto it, for the child. She told herself love for 
 the child alone remained as a legacy of that other 
 love that was dead. She saw her duty now, the duty 
 that a short time before pointed in another direction. 
 She would keep the child. As she raised her head 
 to speak, her eyes rested upon the bunch of securi 
 ties that she had cast aside. Only for a moment she 
 hesitated. Arising she said in a firm voice :
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 45 
 
 " I will keep the child, Mr. Durand; I cannot let 
 her go now; I will keep her." 
 
 " Thanks," he said, " you too saw the way of 
 duty as I saw it." The old cynical look came back 
 again to his face, as he glanced down at the securi 
 ties, and leaned forward to take them up. 
 
 " I am sorry, Miss Reed, that you did not see 
 your way to keep this money. Yet a point of honor 
 of course interferes. This I recognize." 
 
 She looked him in the eye and felt that he was 
 lying when he expressed sorrow that she would 
 not keep the money. 
 
 She answered, " The details we can arrange to 
 morrow. Come here then in the morning and all 
 regarding Olive can be arranged. As to this 
 money, Mr. Durand, I have changed my mind; I 
 will keep it. Good day, sir." 
 
 With one hand she took the securities while the 
 other was clasped about Olive. 
 
 Dumfounded at the latest developments, at the 
 sudden turn about in the woman, Durand mur 
 mured as he carried Olive back to the carriage: 
 " Ah, the peculiarities of women. I half believed 
 she would keep the money, even though she dis 
 carded it for a time."
 
 46 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE time was a week later. Durand again sat in 
 the privacy of his own apartments, the apartments 
 that had in the last few days increased their sump 
 tuous appearance. Imported antique rugs had been 
 added, costly paintings took the place of those that 
 were scarcely less costly. Here and there a touch 
 of things new and expensive told of added pros 
 perity and replenished means. 
 
 Time, however, hung somewhat heavily on his 
 hands to-day. Not that he disliked the life of ease 
 that opened before him and on which he had just 
 entered. For this reason he again dropped into a 
 retrospective mood, just as he had on the night 
 of his dismissal from the bank. He smiled here and 
 he frowned there as he ran down to the chain of 
 events that had recently transpired; smiled as he 
 thought of the changes wrought in himself, from an 
 employee s position to the custodianship of an im 
 mense fortune. Momentarily he paused and gave 
 way to the thought, " I would that it were mine in 
 deed rather than in trust." He frowned as he
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 47 
 
 thought of Helen Reed s determination to relin 
 quish her ownership of the funds left her should 
 she assume the management of Olive, and of the 
 change in her intentions after she saw the child. 
 "Why did she conclude to take this money?" 
 Durand asked himself. " In case she had not I 
 could have secured a receipt for the money, even 
 though I signed the receipt myself, and none would 
 be the wiser. I wonder \vhat changed her mind." 
 It never occurred to him that Helen Reed distrusted 
 him. A man with guilty intentions seldom suspects 
 himself suspected. 
 
 Going further his mind again took in the details 
 of that interview, where she suddenly changed her 
 mind regarding the retention of the funds. He 
 recalled how this interview was terminated by the 
 screams of Olive, and how her misfortune had as 
 sisted him in securing the woman s consent to an 
 arrangement that offered him relief. 
 
 " What the devil could I have done with the 
 child?" he asked himself. "A wise discretion on 
 the part of her father, even if presumptuous and 
 audacious, in asking the woman he jilted to take care 
 of his child. Now all there is for me to do is to 
 furnish funds adequate for the maintenance of the 
 two," and here he stopped as he wondered what the 
 final outcome would be. A solution offered itself in
 
 48 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the words that he audibly uttered, " Wait for 
 something to turn up." 
 
 " The sight of the little one changed her mind 
 mighty sudden. I suppose the nursery talk she gave 
 to the little one was what might be expected of me, 
 had she not consented." He chuckled to himself; 
 how would it appear to repeat what Helen Reed 
 had said to Olive ? Mentally he ran her words over, 
 but as he finished, the words Helen Reed had ut 
 tered as she coddled the petite Olive, " you might 
 have been killed," caused him to* start and his eyes 
 to blink, his whole being alert. Even as the hound 
 scents the prey afar, so in these few words he 
 scented possibilities. With him, the word possi 
 bility did not mean defeat, it meant probability. It 
 meant something worth a trial. With the ever in- 
 quisitiveness of the man who combines intrigue with 
 business, Durand arose and procured the oft read 
 will of his friend James. Again he perused it. 
 Eagerly he scanned it for something it did not con 
 tain. He again and again read it, though there 
 was naught in it that proclaimed what was to be 
 done with the estate in case of the death of Olive. 
 The words mentioned by the nurse, and repeated by 
 Durand, " you might have been killed," had 
 prompted this search. Suppose she had been killed, 
 he asked himself. What next ? 
 
 It was a strange coincidence, James had explained
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 49 
 
 to him, that both he and his wife were the last of 
 their line. No distant or near relative could 
 come forward to claim an interest in the property. 
 To whom does the ownership of the estates of per 
 sons who die heirless revert?" Durand questioned. 
 Calling Perkins he bade him summon a carriage. 
 " I will go to the bank," thought Durand. " Mr. 
 Graham will know about such matters; I will see 
 him." 
 
 An hour later he was ushered into the presence 
 of the bank s high functionary. After the good- 
 days were said and they were seated, Durand said, 
 " Mr. Graham, I am the executor of an estate and 
 the guardian of a child, as you are aware. Now 
 I do not expect any change in the status of the 
 affairs of my ward or of things pertaining to her 
 from the present level, but an accident, slight to 
 be sure, came to my protegee a little while since, 
 and although she escaped unharmed, yet the possi 
 bilities of death were present, and since that time I 
 have found myself inquiring as to the disposition by 
 law of an estate wherein the dead left no heirs or 
 relatives." 
 
 Mr. Graham scratched his head. " The law, 
 I believe, Mr. Durand, provides that the property of 
 those dying without heirs shall devolve to the State, 
 at least that is true in New York State. That event 
 seldom happens, however, for various reasons. 
 4
 
 50 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 First, some one most always comes forward and 
 styles himself a relative or the lawyers manufacture 
 one first-handed. An executor of this day would 
 hardly be expected to allow such money to be turned 
 into the State s coffers when bills against the estate 
 would consume it. Bills can be manufactured as 
 easily as relatives." 
 
 " In case of the disappearance of my ward, Mr. 
 Graham, who would claim her estate?" 
 
 " No one could unless absolute proof of her death 
 could be furnished." 
 
 Durand had for once so far lost himself as to be 
 no longer the calm man of affairs. This Mr. 
 Graham noticed, and turning to him suddenly 
 asked, " My God, Mr. Durand, you don t contem 
 plate kidnapping this child, do you?" 
 
 " I resent your implied insinuation, Mr. Gra 
 ham." He arose to go but did not request an 
 apology. " Even if I did contemplate something of 
 this sort who would prevent me?" 
 
 " I would," replied Graham. " I would brook 
 no such act by you, sir." 
 
 " Don t let us quarrel over a fanciful injury done 
 another," continued Durand in a voice low and reg 
 ular again. " You cannot afford to quarrel with 
 me or I with you. Yes, Mr. Graham, I hold cer 
 tain secrets of this bank, and should you gain 
 knowledge of my secrets I will expect you to keep
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 51 
 
 them, even as I have kept yours, but did you di 
 vulge mine I would retaliate with the same means." 
 
 " You say you hold secrets of mine, Durand, are 
 you sincere in saying it? " 
 
 " Perfectly so. As your employee I gained 
 knowledge here of damaging secrets that you would 
 scarcely have published before the world." 
 
 The other sat unmoved. " What are those dam 
 aging secrets?" incredulously he asked. 
 
 " Simply this." Durand arose and continued, 
 pointing his finger at Graham : " By reason of the 
 colossal speculation of yourself and the directors 
 some two years ago this institution became heav 
 ily long on stocks; on top of this the market 
 broke several points, wiping out the deposits, the 
 surplus and a part of the capital of this bank. This 
 was done in a single day and this insolvent institu 
 tion was helped over its difficulty by other banks. 
 You wince, do you? You thought this information 
 inviolate with you, but I was not asleep. The in 
 vestments of this bank were in my hands, and I 
 had but to compute the total cost and then to arrive 
 at the deductions I have stated. I knew, sir, of the 
 frantic efforts made by your colleagues, your 
 votaries, sir, if you please, in your behalf to put the 
 stock market higher and save you, and how 
 even this was done. I don t expect to carry into 
 force your contemplated suggestion of kidnapping,
 
 52 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 but if I did and you were cognizant of it, it would 
 little behoove you to give information against me. 
 Good-day, sir;" and he strode out, muttering to 
 himself : " I guess he will pay proper deference to 
 me any time I ask it. That is the reason I came 
 here." 
 
 The president sat for some time in his chair, 
 white, speechless and dumfounded. At last he mur 
 mured aloud, " He is a villain to be watched. He 
 could make things mighty bad for me if he chose, 
 all through the reckless chances the directors ad 
 vised taking. Luckily nothing criminal developed, 
 yet did he tell of this matter, confidence in me and 
 in the bank would be shattered, so I suppose any 
 move he makes I will be obliged to countenance. 
 This giving one man sole charge of a department 
 is fraught with danger. A change in our manage 
 ment shall indeed take place. We will guard 
 against such things in the future." 
 
 " A lady wishes to see you, sir," announced the 
 attendant. " Here is her card." 
 
 Charles Graham looked at the card and read 
 " Miss Helen Reed." 
 
 He was so dumfounded at the result of the in 
 terview with the last visitor that he did not even 
 inquire the business of the waiting caller, but an 
 swered, " Show the lady in."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 53 
 
 Helen Reed entered. " This is Mr. Graham, 
 president of this bank, is it not?" 
 
 " It is, madam, at your service ; be seated ; what 
 can I do for you ? " 
 
 " I wish your advice regarding a matter of im 
 portance to me. The truth is I am in sore dis 
 tress, and as money affairs are the cause of my 
 troubles I came to you, knowing your standing and 
 the value of your advice. The facts are I recently 
 came into possession of a large amount of money. 
 I desire to give it away. This money came from 
 an estate upon which I had no legal claim. It was a 
 bequest unsought and undesired. I wish to restore 
 this money to the one most interested in the matter, 
 the one to whom it belongs." 
 
 " Explain yourself further, madam. As presi 
 dent here I am often importuned for advice and 
 come into knowledge of many secrets. You may 
 trust me." 
 
 " There are no details. I have a large sum of 
 money," here she held aloft a package, " and wish 
 the title of the same transferred to the name of 
 Olive James. That is all." 
 
 Graham instantly recognized the name as that 
 of the child of which Durand had told him he was 
 guardian. 
 
 " Pray why to Olive James, the child already has 
 a fortune has she not? "
 
 54 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Yes," faltered the other, " but it may fail." 
 
 " You distrust then the guardian, Mr. Durand? " 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Graham." 
 
 " You know him then ? " 
 
 " Yes, slightly." 
 
 " Very well. However, if I were you I would 
 hardly give the money away." 
 
 "I desire it; I shall do it." 
 
 " If your mind is settled upon that point, I would 
 advise doing it secretly. I know Mr. Durand. He 
 has told me of you, and for that reason I say, do it 
 secretly. The simplest way is the best and will 
 excite no curiosity on the part of others, as might 
 be in case the securities were transferred by law. 
 I would advise that you merely place the money 
 here in the safety vaults of the bank and to the 
 credit of the child and keep the matter a secret." 
 
 From a bag she carried she took out the packet of 
 securities that the reader has heard of before, and 
 exchanging them for keys to a private locker in the 
 vault below started to withdraw. 
 
 " One word, madam," said Mr. Graham, " one 
 word; " he put his fingers to his lips and said, " be 
 careful of the child, very careful."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 55 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HELEN REED, attired in a loose morning gown, 
 sat reading a magazine, her feet on the polished 
 fender that guarded a small hearth fire. Her 
 luxuriant blonde hair was carefully arranged as if 
 she might later expect a caller or might herself go 
 out. 
 
 The room was one of a small suite which at 
 her suggestion had been chosen a month before as 
 the home of Olive and herself. The furnishings, 
 also chosen by herself, were in good taste, if not 
 expensive. She had declined to accept things rich 
 or showy from Durand, even though he had liber 
 ally offered her as much as she chose. Her personal 
 expenses were nominal, although Durand had as 
 sured her that the estate could furnish her with a 
 salary that was attractive. She had declined to re 
 ceive more than an adequate maintenance, disap 
 proving of his offer as approaching extravagance. 
 If Olive s destiny were hers to shape, if Olive s 
 future were hers to mold, she had determined that 
 the secret of the great wealth that awaited her
 
 56 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 should be kept from her, and so her own frugal yet 
 proper allowance, together with the allowance she 
 handled for Olive was on her advice made corre 
 spondingly small. " I shall bring the child up well," 
 she told Durand, " surrounding her with things 
 healthy and beneficial, amusements in the right 
 amount shall be hers, clothing not gaudy shall she 
 wear, and her mind shall be directed along proper 
 lines. Her education shall be of the best." 
 
 Showing little interest, he had consented to all 
 this. Hence these modest apartments, where with 
 two servants she and Olive were living. 
 
 This particular morning Olive on the floor with 
 her several dolls was amusing herself, while her 
 monitor read. Looking up from her magazine, 
 Helen Reed said, " Olive, come here please." 
 
 Olive had developed a love for this woman in 
 the month they had been together that was truly 
 the love instinct of a girl child for her mother, while 
 the other with almost maternal affection had grown 
 to intensely love this sweet child, whose face and 
 tears had won a large corner of her heart the day 
 of Durand s visit to the hospital. 
 
 Olive dropped her dolls and ran into the open 
 arms of her summoner. " Yes, auntie," as she put 
 her face up for the proffered kiss. The name 
 " auntie " had been transferred from the former old 
 nurse of Olive to Helen Reed. She disliked not
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 57 
 
 the title either, realizing that Olive must call her 
 something, she had consented to this new name 
 without discussion. Olive nestled in her arms a 
 moment and then looked into her face. 
 
 " What do you want of me, auntie? " 
 
 " We are going driving Olive this morning; it is 
 pleasant and you know on pleasant days Mr. Du- 
 rand sends a carriage for us. I just received a note 
 from him, saying that one would be waiting at ten. 
 We shall get ready at once." 
 
 " You are a good auntie," said Olive, " and Olive 
 loves to drive. I wish you were my mamma; why 
 can t you be my mamma ? Won t you please, for I 
 want a mamma so badly?" 
 
 Looking into the eager-eyed childish face before 
 her, who had been early denied a mother s love, 
 Helen Reed felt the hot tears rushing down her own 
 cheeks, as she thought of the future and the plans 
 that had been made in other days. 
 
 " Why do you cry ? " said Olive. " You don t 
 want to be my mamma ? " 
 
 Hugging her tight, she kissed the innocent face 
 again and again as she said. " Yes, dear, I will be 
 your mamma forever." 
 
 It was the coming together, the joining of two 
 yearning hearts, each rinding one to love and be 
 loved in return. For some moments they sat thus, 
 the child looking confidently into the woman s face ;
 
 58 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER 
 
 the woman with satisfying admiration looking into 
 the child s face, and as she looked down through the 
 pathway of years before her, thought at last she saw 
 a light ahead, saw reason to be thankful after all 
 for her existence. She looked forward to the time 
 when Olive might grow up and even marry, when 
 she, as her mother, would experience great joy over 
 her success and achievements, and be honored by 
 these successes. 
 
 Thus they sat until the woman said, " Come, 
 Olive, let us make ready for the drive." 
 
 An hour later, a carriage stopped in the street, 
 and Olive and her new-found mother came down 
 the steps and were seated in the carriage and driven 
 away. Just then another and handsome equipage 
 drove nearly abreast of their own carriage, the 
 one first mentioned starting slowly, and the driver 
 of the second one apparently holding in his horses, 
 stopping them to a slow walk, and with the plain 
 intention of falling in behind the other. We say 
 plain intention. So it seemed to Helen Reed as 
 later in the sanctity of her own chamber she re 
 counted this day s events. 
 
 But what she did notice, however, was a woman 
 of a type unfamiliar to her, a young woman with a 
 plain showing of rouge on her face, and with hair 
 the color of her own, yet perhaps lighter and more 
 fluffy. The proximity of the conveyances per-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 59 
 
 mitted her to observe also the keen, deep-set eyes of 
 the other, eyes that gleamed with shrewdness. Her 
 face was beautiful in spite of the worldliness shown 
 so unmistakably. 
 
 She noticed this woman seemed to take special 
 interest in her and in Olive. She thought her a 
 trifle ill-bred to stare so boldly at them. " Who is 
 this woman ? " she thought. Then loving the child 
 as she did, she forgave her, feeling perhaps she 
 might have been impressed with Olive s face or may 
 hap have lost a child by death. And with those 
 mingled reasons, showing maternal pride and an un- 
 resentful spirit, as the other carriage drew behind, 
 she dismissed all thoughts of the incident from her 
 mind. Yet had she looked back, she might have 
 beheld this carriage following at a little distance. 
 
 The driver threaded his way through the fre 
 quented streets of the city and finally struck in 
 Fifth Avenue, from which he led the way uptown 
 to Central Park. Here he wound in and out the 
 beautiful drives, and among the trees that now had 
 taken on the beautiful Fall tints, Olive at times 
 crumbling cookies she had brought, and throwing 
 them with glee to the sparrows and robins that fed 
 on her offerings with a vigor born of an empty 
 stomach. 
 
 A squirrel attracted her attention as it leaped on 
 the low bough of a tree near by.
 
 60 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Mother, may I feed the squirrels ? " she said. 
 Receiving the required consent, as the horses were 
 stopped, the driver opened the door of the carriage, 
 she stepped down and cookie in hand sought the 
 society of the squirrel, who suspicious of her inten 
 tions, climbed higher into the tree. 
 
 " Naughty squirrel," she scolded. " I don t want 
 to get you, only give you a dinner." 
 
 The squirrel, ever vigilant, did not care to court 
 the acquaintance of the little girl, and hied himself 
 to higher branches. Helen stepped from the car 
 riage, and together they wandered under the trees. 
 Olive caught up autumn leaves that had fallen, 
 and throwing them high above her head, Stood and 
 let the shower of nature s beautiful emblems of the 
 passing season fall upon her head and shoulders. 
 
 The woman too, catching the spirit of revelry, in 
 appreciation of beautiful nature, sat down on the 
 bench, and calling Olive to her made garlands of 
 leaves which Olive put about her neck. Together 
 they made a picture of happy contentment, of love 
 and felicity. 
 
 As the sun cast his vertical rays upon the Park, 
 Helen said to her charge, " Come, Olive, we will go 
 home now. It is growing warmer and we can come 
 here some other day." 
 
 " Can we come to-morrow ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, dear."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 61 
 
 As they entered the carriage and drove out, Olive 
 said, " Mamma, do not the birds get cold at night? " 
 
 " Why, no, I don t think so. If they do, they 
 don t complain." 
 
 " But the baby birds, do they not get cold; does 
 their mother keep them warm ? They have mothers, 
 don t they?" 
 
 " Yes, dear, of course." 
 
 " I am so glad they do ; so glad. I have a 
 mother now too," as she placed her hand confidingly 
 on the other s arm, and rested her head against her. 
 
 The woman s arm stole about Olive in full view 
 of the many people who frequented the walks. 
 Down Broadway they came until Olive pleaded 
 hunger. She had fed her cookies, which they had 
 taken with them for this emergency, to the birds. 
 
 "Hungry, dear? So am I. I will stop and get 
 some bonbons to stay our appetites until dinner." 
 
 " Driver," she called out, " stop at the con 
 fectioner s across the way please." 
 
 The carriage drew up in front of the confec 
 tioner s shop; Helen Reed said, "Olive, you stay 
 here and mamma w 7 ill go inside and get the bonbons. 
 Don t get out," and she passed inside. 
 
 Hurriedly came the carriage just behind; it 
 stopped close by them, and the woman with blonde 
 hair and the alert eyes, stepped out on the walk 
 quickly, passed over the space between the two
 
 62 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 vehicles, and from the foremost, grasped Olive in 
 her arms and rapidly returned to her own carriage. 
 
 Olive was too bewildered and frightened to cry 
 out, while the driver, if he heard any commotion 
 behind, failed to look back. Instead, as if he ex 
 pected what was transpiring, he intently gazed 
 ahead. 
 
 Straightway the strange woman s conveyance 
 whirled about and across the street and was lost 
 among the thousands of turnouts.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 63 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FOUR days after Durand s interview with Gra 
 ham, he sat in the solitude of his surroundings, 
 thinking, thinking, trying to scheme a way of 
 putting together this circumstance and that which 
 he had heard and read, circumstances that bordered 
 on the idea nearest his heart. The words of Helen 
 Reed at the time of Olive s accident reverberated 
 through his brain, and furnished food for thought 
 and schemes. The knowledge he possessed of cir 
 cumstances that would work out to the discredit of 
 Graham, he knew would seal the latter s lips, so he 
 had naught to fear from that quarter. 
 
 He did not need money himself. Far from it. 
 In addition to the means which he had possessed 
 before, he from time to time drew the large appro 
 priations his friend James had stated in the will 
 should be paid him monthly for his services, and 
 James realizing the estate would consume the most 
 of his time had been most liberal. So he did not 
 need to conjure up or devise ways for increasing his 
 capital. There was no excuse, no reasonable sub 
 terfuge or pretense under which he could excuse
 
 64 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 himself, or by which he might try to appease his 
 conscience, did he possess one, for plotting to ac 
 quire possession of the fortune of his ward and 
 charge. 
 
 On the contrary there was condemnation to be 
 found in his every move. His mind was corruptly 
 fertile or the remarks of Helen Reed would not have 
 found ground for propagation. The seed thus sown 
 unconsciously in less productive soil would have 
 proven barren. 
 
 Looking forward into the consequences, the 
 knowledge of his information about Graham yield 
 ing to a technical illegality that involved the bank 
 president suggested itself to him as a cover or 
 shield. He might do this thing which he wanted 
 to do, which he had plotted to do, under Graham s 
 very nose, and as much as the latter would like to 
 silence him and his methods, Durand knew from the 
 first that Graham was powerless to inflict damage 
 or stop him in his nefarious enterprises. 
 
 Durand was a man who considered everybody his 
 enemy, and in considering Graham in this light he 
 knew he had his enemy at a disadvantage; the ser 
 pent that would strike him had in advance drawn 
 his own fangs. 
 
 When Durand had chosen Graham s institution 
 as the custodian of the funds that accrued to him, 
 he had done so after due deliberation. He had
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 65 
 
 wondered if by going back in this way he would 
 humiliate himself, and if he put his pride under 
 his feet and deposited the funds there, could it be 
 of use to him in the future. Intuitively came to 
 him the thought he could use Graham to his ad 
 vantage if he wanted to. Then Durand formulated 
 a new proverb, a proverb that was for his own use 
 at least, and others may profit by it. It ran thus : 
 " He who buries not his dislikes and prejudices, 
 wins not in endeavor or battle; but he who would 
 use all his fellow men to build upon, temporarily 
 forgiving his enemies that he may use them to his 
 own advantage, does well." 
 
 Now as he reflected he thought the proverb was 
 especially good, and considered that if he were to 
 possess the wealth of little Olive, he had done well 
 that he had gone to Graham with his funds in trust. 
 The greed of this man was untamed and uncon- 
 quered. The desire for wealth led him on in his de- 
 visings of ways and means to work out his desired 
 wish. As he plotted he gave no thought of the little 
 one who would suffer, whose whole life would be 
 changed, nor of the woman who presided over 
 Olive s destiny, and if he did, his interest in them 
 was devoid of pity. Like unto the crouching of a 
 tiger that waits in secret ambush for his prey to 
 approach, so Durand as pitiless waited for the 
 fruition of his unscrupulous schemings. 
 5
 
 66 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 At the cradle of the race, twin brother with hu 
 manity, there was born a monster, multi-headed and 
 Janus-faced. This monster, ever bold and sagacious, 
 grew and thrived, destroying man and defying 
 God. He had wrecked the lives of myriads of poor 
 souls of the past. At the present if he had his 
 avaricious hold on one stronger than on another of 
 the mortals of this day, it was, as already shown, 
 upon Durand. The name of this monster was 
 Greed. 
 
 While one day Durand s eyes fell upon the per 
 sonal columns of one of the leading metropolitan 
 journals, he came upon the notice a loving wife had 
 inserted as she called out in her loneliness for the 
 recreant husband to return, promising forgiveness 
 and love. Unblushing he read of the young man 
 who had been noticed by a young lady at a certain 
 corner on a certain day, and the appeal was made 
 for her address. 
 
 Before he had finished perusing one-half of these 
 notices, this monster whispered to him again and 
 Durand at once listened and here he saw an outlet 
 that the " personal " column should furnish for him, 
 namely, some one to carry out the already outlined 
 scheme that his imagination had wrought and which 
 the monster had prompted. He would advertise for 
 a woman who should be his tool. Money? Yes. 
 She should have it if she did as he bid. He could
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 67 
 
 afford to pay well if she should make large demands 
 for her services. Only once he stopped, and that 
 was when he realized that in the employment of 
 others he would put himself in their hands ; he 
 would make himself an inviting target for his as 
 sistant to blackmail, but this hesitancy was only 
 temporary for its solution rapidly involved the 
 other. The fowler must find the bird before he 
 snares it; " the blackmailer will have to find me be 
 fore I will be blackmailed." Here he laughed a 
 loud ha ! ha ! " that will not be an easy task per 
 haps." 
 
 Hurriedly catching up his pen, he wrote upon 
 some note paper that lay before him the follow 
 ing: "Wanted, a woman to take charge of a 
 young child, one with candor and bravery, no refer 
 ences required. Inquire 
 
 " That will about get what I want," said Durand, 
 talking aloud. " I did not mention that I wanted a 
 home for a child or a tutor, but one to take the 
 child in charge. By mentioning that one of candor 
 and bravery is wanted, I may be beset with a host 
 of women who cannot see beneath the surface, 
 thinking the child to be incorrigible, may imagine I 
 want nerve and muscle, but to a woman who can 
 read between the lines it will show what I want, 
 and that such an one will reply I have no doubt."
 
 68 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 So saying, he sealed his letter, addressed it and 
 called Perkins to take it out and post it. 
 
 The paper which Durand had favored with his 
 advertisement did not receive it in time for insertion 
 on the day following its posting, so it was not until 
 two days later that the fruits of his note were ap 
 parent. 
 
 As Perkins opened the door in response to the 
 first caller there entered a young Irish woman of 
 brawn and brass. Without waiting to be questioned 
 she at once opened on Durand. 
 
 " If it is a brave woman ye want, sure I am her. 
 You can do no better for your errant brat. Just 
 look at me arms; don t doubt me. I could throw 
 you right easily." 
 
 Durand stepped back. Plainly he did not want 
 this woman. He was looking for brains and not 
 for muscle. Fearing a scene if he expressed him 
 self that way, he quietly asked the woman s name 
 and address ; told her she might hear from him later, 
 but not to allow any opportunity to pass should she 
 wish another place. 
 
 Perkins had no sooner bowed the first one out 
 than a second one put in an appearance, a tawdry 
 individual who looked about, and approved of the 
 apartment evidently, for when her eyes sought Du 
 rand they were smiling. She cast enticing looks 
 upon him, while he blandly returned her gaze, dis-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 69 
 
 missing her as soon as the advertisement was men 
 tioned. Others came, elderly women of good ap 
 pearance, whose plain clothes proved them in need 
 of work, and reading the advertisement believed 
 it suitable and remunerative enough to relieve their 
 strained finances. Young and flippant widows came 
 in plenty. Durand scrutinized each carefully and 
 decided that none as yet would suit his purpose. He 
 was about convinced that this method of securing 
 what he wanted would fail when Perkins ushered 
 in a veiled woman whose blonde hair shone through 
 the veil and attracted his attention and whose French 
 accent, as she returned his salutation, made him 
 hope that at last he had succeeded. 
 
 He would question her more carefully than he 
 had the others. 
 
 " I saw your advertisement," she said, in her 
 dainty accent. " What do you desire? " 
 
 " A woman of brains who will do my bidding." 
 
 " And the price? " she asked. 
 
 " She shall name it." 
 
 You are generous, but the service you require 
 is very difficult? " 
 
 " Not very, secrecy is the main factor." 
 
 " Mon dieu, I can be secret." 
 
 " Yes," he said eagerly, " and the task is to pro 
 cure and hold in safe keeping and secretly at that, 
 a girl child."
 
 70 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 "How old?" 
 
 " About five." 
 
 " And for how long?" 
 
 " As long as the case may require. Perhaps 
 years. Perhaps some other disposition will be made 
 should it be necessary or expedient." 
 
 " And where is the girl ? " 
 
 " In this city." 
 
 " How can she be secured ? " 
 
 " Only in one way." 
 
 "And that?" 
 
 " Kidnapping." Quietly he said it and without 
 a pang of conscience. 
 
 " That is dangerous." 
 
 " But you name your own terms ; anything reason 
 able I will pay." 
 
 * You want me to secure the custody of this 
 child and keep her as long as you desire. Do I 
 understand you aright?" 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Very well then, I can arrange it for you." 
 
 " The price? " he asked. 
 
 The price she named nearly staggered him, but 
 he did not falter in his intention. Her compensa 
 tion was large for even so dangerous a deed, at 
 tached was a monthly allowance for the mainte 
 nance of the child. 
 
 " Agreed," he said, for he knew the job to be
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 71 
 
 one that only the most daring and mercenary would 
 undertake. Then the two cold-blooded and diaboli 
 cal plotters continued. 
 
 Said the woman, " How can it be arranged? " 
 
 " Simply enough ; the woman in charge of the 
 little girl naturally goes driving often. You can 
 follow and if they alight or the little one is left 
 alone there is sure to be some time you can easily 
 take the girl in your carriage. The rest is easy." 
 
 " I will do it for you," she said. 
 
 Your name please? " 
 
 She handed him a card from which he read 
 aloud, " Mile. Sarah Le Blanc, No. -- West st." 
 
 "And your name?" 
 
 He handed her his card. 
 
 Then he gave her a description of Olive, her ad 
 dress, told her he would let her know each day when 
 they were to drive; and thereafter for several days 
 the carriage of Helen Reed and Olive was followed 
 unknown to them. For several days two human 
 sharks were upon the trail. At last came a day 
 when one shark found her victim, as already de 
 scribed.
 
 72 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AGAIN Durand sat in the seclusion of his own 
 apartments. To say that he was slightly nervous, 
 agitated or preoccupied seems entirely incongru 
 ous to his nature as depicted, and yet such was the 
 case. 
 
 He had spent the afternoon at home, trying to 
 amuse himself with papers or a book and his pipe, 
 but all seemed inadequate to fill in the time, to 
 hold his attention or engross his thoughts. No man, 
 even playing for larger stakes, ever more carefully 
 considered the delicateness of his position or with 
 more earnestness longed for and yet dreaded the 
 play of the last card. He realized that much de 
 pended upon the success of Mile. Sarah La Blanc s 
 efforts to kidnap the innocent Olive. 
 
 Yet Durand was no more agitated than he had 
 been on one or two afternoons preceding this one 
 when the carriage of Mile. Sarah had followed that 
 of Helen and Olive, but without success. However, 
 Durand had a sure conviction that his plans must 
 succeed; that at some time Helen Reed would leave
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 73 
 
 the child, temporarily neglect her perhaps, and then 
 would come the opportunity which his feminine 
 hireling sought. He felt sure this would come on 
 this particular day, as he had told himself on the 
 days previous, the safe and the sure capture of the 
 child whose innocently possessed fortune the giant 
 Greed had told him to take. Once he started as a 
 tradesman brought goods which Perkins had or 
 dered, the footfalls making him believe that the 
 coveted news had at last come. 
 
 After a time these sure convictions left him as 
 the woman returned not with the child, and he al 
 most believed that this day had been as fruitless 
 as the others, when again he heard Perkins invit 
 ing some one to enter. 
 
 In his glee he came forth from the back parlor 
 to meet the visitor and ascertain the secret of the 
 message. His little reception hall was dimly lighted 
 and as some one entered he beheld a woman of 
 Mile. Sarah s proportions and height, and supposed 
 it to be her. Without waiting for her to speak, he 
 rushed forward, grasped her hand, and hastily said, 
 
 " What news, what of our enterprise ? " 
 
 A gleam of light broke over the face of the wo 
 man before him that in the uncertain light he could 
 not see. 
 
 " What enterprise do you refer to ? " said the 
 voice of Helen Reed.
 
 74 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 He was not prepared for this surprise, and for 
 once was dumfounded. 
 
 " Enterprise, enterprise," he stammered. " Why 
 petite Olive James to be sure." 
 
 " Olive James was stolen from my carriage less 
 than an hour ago." 
 
 " Stolen, stolen," repeated the man. " Do you 
 speak the truth?" 
 
 The woman had at first been suspicious of his 
 inquiry when he referred to our enterprise. She 
 was yet suspicious. It was plain to her he did not 
 know her when she first entered, and also plain that 
 from his quick response to her entrance he ex 
 pected a caller. But he might have many callers, 
 and while she was yet suspicious, she admitted the 
 ring of surprise in his voice, even if feigned, was of 
 the right sort, and she might be mistaken. 
 
 The woman in her came to the front. " Man," 
 she said excitedly, " do something. Can t you un 
 derstand Olive has been kidnapped ? Move ! Move, 
 at once! The police will help you," and the tears 
 streamed down her face. " Don t delay. My car 
 riage is waiting. Come quickly." She clutched 
 his arm. " Come," she said. 
 
 " Wait, tell me how it happened." 
 
 Impatiently she narrated the facts. 
 
 " Come," she said, as she finished. 
 
 But he would play for time. He would give
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 75 
 
 Mile. Sarah opportunity to make good her escape. 
 
 " What do you propose? " he inquired. 
 
 "The police, detectives, anything; don t delay; 
 come at once; we can make the plans when we are 
 started." 
 
 Leisurely he procured his top-coat and hat and 
 followed her out into the carriage. 
 
 " Where are you going? " he asked. 
 
 She leaned back. " He is little interested," was 
 her mental calculation. Her answer she called out 
 to the driver, " To the next elevated station." 
 
 "Why there?" he asked. 
 
 " Let us go to the city hall. We will personally 
 appeal to the mayor and the chief of police." 
 
 " We," he thought, and wanted to smile. 
 
 He did not protest against going where Helen 
 had directed. It would not do. She naturally would 
 come to him first in an emergency of this kind, and 
 he must show interest or he might be suspected. 
 He knew that Helen mistrusted him generally, and 
 he reasoned that now by doing her bidding he might 
 throw off this suspicion; besides it might be ex 
 pected of him to raise a hue and cry over the dis 
 appearance of his ward. By the time they would be 
 down town and to the city hall, considerable time 
 would elapse giving the kidnapper opportunity to 
 cover her tracks. So he did not protest. The 
 interval before their arrival at the city hall was
 
 76 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 spent by Durand in considering what was best to do 
 in order to escape the suspicion of the authorities, 
 and by Helen in rapidly and excitedly talking over 
 the affair, repeating to him many times the cir 
 cumstances, sobbing behind her handkerchief until 
 the passengers on the elevated train looked at her 
 with surprise and interest. 
 
 Arriving at the city hall they looked up, each in 
 turn, the chief of police and mayor. Both of these 
 dignitaries asked many questions. The chief in 
 quired all about the circumstances; seemed much 
 interested and took down the data in a large book 
 on his desk. Helen gave him the facts, while Du 
 rand remained silent. As he wrote down the name 
 of the child and the names of the other two he 
 noticed the disparity. 
 
 " Why," he said, " this is not your child," speak 
 ing to the two. 
 
 " No," returned Durand, speaking for the first 
 time, "she is my ward; this lady was her tutor 
 and governess." 
 
 " I w r as a mother to her," said the woman. 
 Reaching over the desk, she took the bulky hand of 
 the chief. " Find her, find her ; I pray you find 
 her." 
 
 " Everything shall be done, miss," he assured 
 her. " The captains and the patrolmen shall be
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 77 
 
 notified at once. One more word, have you any 
 suspicions? " 
 
 " No," said Helen, hesitating as she glanced at 
 Durand. 
 
 Durand shook his head. 
 
 "You say you were driving; did you see any 
 one follow you? " 
 
 " No, er, yes, we did too," said Helen, for 
 the first time recalling the carriage with the blonde 
 woman which drew abreast of them as they started. 
 
 " Tell us about it," said the chief. 
 
 " There is little to tell. A blonde woman in a 
 carriage drew abreast of us as we were leaving our 
 home. The woman I noticed leaned forward and 
 scrutinized Olive closely. The carriage drew back 
 and I saw it no more." 
 
 " Did you not look for it again? " 
 
 " No, not being suspicious, believing the woman 
 to be of a rude sort and merely inquisitive, I did not 
 pay any further attention to her." 
 
 Durand looked agitated. He liked not the clue 
 the chief was following out. When the blonde 
 woman was mentioned, he had winced perceptibly. 
 This the chief had noticed. Then he drew himself 
 together and stood the balance of the ordeal un 
 flinchingly. 
 
 After they withdrew, the chief turned and said
 
 78 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 to a sergeant, who had stood by and heard all that 
 was said : 
 
 "That man was not interested much, was he? 
 I will gamble he either knows the whereabouts of 
 the child; or if some one he does not know has ab 
 ducted her he hopes she will not return. We will 
 watch him. Sergeant, here is his address. Detail 
 men to cover his home for a few days and watch 
 his movements and his visitors." 
 
 Meanwhile Durand and Helen Reed were on 
 their way home. Durand saw Helen Reed to her 
 own door. But he did not see the agitated woman 
 fling herself a moment later on the sofa and sob: 
 "Olive, Oh, Olive! Daughter of him I loved." 
 Nor did he witness the dropping on the knees as 
 her tear-stained face was lifted heavenward and her 
 petition ascended for the safety of the child. 
 
 His home-coming was vastly different. As he 
 entered his rooms, a woman arose to greet him. 
 It was Mile. Sarah. 
 
 He took her hand in glee, smiling his old sinister 
 smile, as he said: " I know all; you were success 
 ful." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " I have just quitted the office of the chief of 
 police with the idea of assisting in the search." He 
 smiled more blandly than usual. 
 
 " How did you know it?"
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 79 
 
 " She, the other woman, came to me at once. 
 I am sorry to have kept you waiting, yet I was 
 occupied as you know. Tell me about it." 
 
 Then she detailed the performance to him, not 
 omitting the fact that the child was lovable and she 
 was sure the other woman loved her. 
 
 " How does the other woman take it ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Very badly, but then in time she will get over 
 her sentimentality. She had a good berth; the pay 
 was large, and she disliked losing it I presume, but 
 still she has plenty of means besides, the revenue 
 from which will keep her. Ah, she will forget Olive 
 no doubt. And the girl," he interrogated, " how- 
 does she take it? " 
 
 " Oh, badly. I almost repented of our act when 
 I saw her great distress. Were it not for my re 
 ward I am afraid I should take her back." 
 
 His eyes flashed. " Take her back, woman ! You 
 secrete her and also keep your whereabouts a 
 secret. The police will follow me. I think the chief , 
 half suspected me to-day. We must both be care 
 ful. I shall hardly venture out for several days; 
 and you keep indoors, once you are at home." 
 
 When Mile. Le Blanc passed out to her carriage 
 later she was almost jostled off her feet by two 
 patrolmen who did this in order to hear her speak, 
 to get a look at her, for they were the detailed men
 
 8o THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the chief had sent; but aside from the blonde hair 
 they saw or learned nothing to their advantage. 
 
 However, they did not fail to report the occur 
 rence to the chief, who inquired why they had not 
 followed her. Yet they had been told to watch the 
 house only, so he could not complain. They were 
 told that the next time they were to follow and if 
 possible locate the blonde woman.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 81 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WE have shown how Durand, the usually dis 
 creet man, had bartered with a woman of whom 
 he knew no more than she had chosen to disclose 
 of herself, which was not very much. Yet he had 
 no fear of eventual results, for to him " sufficient 
 unto the clay is the evil thereof." He borrowed no 
 trouble on the score of harm or blackmail from 
 Mile. Le Blanc. He had already formulated plans 
 that when carried into effect would place him be 
 yond harm s reach, beyond the influence of any who 
 would work vindication. Even though he had to 
 desert the child, leaving her in the care of Mile. 
 Le Blanc, he meant to escape after securing all the 
 money. Yet he hoped Olive would first be provided 
 for, and that concerned him most. Not that he 
 brooded over her destiny now with the same meas 
 ure of anxiety that he had over the plans for her 
 kidnapping. He saw no reason for it. He had her 
 secreted and now would secrete the wealth also. 
 
 Ere he finally decided as to the disposition of 
 Olive he made another visit to Mr. Graham. The 
 meeting could hardly be said to be cordial. After 
 6
 
 82 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the hand-shake, Dnrand boldly looked Graham in 
 the eye and said : " Mr. Graham, my ward has been 
 kidnapped and her whereabouts are unknown." 
 
 Graham turned upon him, wrath flaming in his 
 face and unsteadying his hand, and asked, 
 "When? 
 
 " A few days ago." 
 
 " Did you notify the police? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Has a reward been offered ? " sneeringly asked 
 Graham. 
 
 Durand flushed. Twas plain the other suspected 
 him, and he would show him he did not care for 
 that. 
 
 " No," he said, " and none w r ill be offered. Con 
 tent yourself with that." 
 
 " You are a devil and a scoundrel, sir, a robber 
 and persecutor of children, a thief." 
 
 " Then we are in the same class. You are an 
 unconvicted and unheralded embezzler. I have the 
 figures and I can have your affair investigated at 
 any time I lay my facts before the authorities. I 
 was not in your employ those years for naught. I 
 will make public your methods." 
 
 " And for the kidnapping I will have you ar 
 rested before nightfall." 
 
 " And I will make my complaint against you as 
 I leave this place. Come now, let us make a com-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 83 
 
 pact. I keep silence and you keep silence. Tit for 
 tat. Agreed?" 
 
 " No, I will have nothing to do with this nefari 
 ous affair. I, an honest man, asked to become an 
 accessory through silence to such a piece of dam 
 nable business as that ! You hound, you ask me to 
 sit by and see you steal and secrete this child that 
 you may acquire her fortune. Her father was a 
 fool in choosing you as executor; or perhaps you 
 put screws on him as you threaten to on me, but 
 you can t use me in this way. I shall denounce you 
 at once." 
 
 That money shall be mine and soon," answered 
 the other unabashed by what had been threatened. 
 
 A curious smile lit up the other s face. " Never, 
 sir," he said, " your bondsmen would follow you to 
 the ends of the earth. Surety companies are not 
 lenient with criminals." 
 
 " Calmly," said Durand. " I gave no bond for 
 my proper administration of this estate. The will 
 said I was exempt from that." 
 
 "I just said the girl s father was a fool; he was 
 a damned fool at that," said the astute bank presi 
 dent, indulging in profanity that he rarely allowed 
 himself. " He did not know you or he was under 
 pressure." 
 
 " Come now," said Durand. " Agree to my pro 
 position."
 
 84 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Never," said the other ; " I shall denounce you 
 at once and shoulder the consequences." 
 
 Durand said nothing in reply. Instead he looked 
 through the glass door by which he had entered 
 and saw the president s son in the corridor outside 
 the booth-like room of the president in which they 
 were seated. The sight of the young man gave him 
 an inspiration. Turning again to the father, he 
 slowly said : 
 
 " Men build up futures and reputations which 
 they hope will descend upon their posterity. As a 
 proud father you expect the mantle of your social 
 position, together with your fortune and reputa 
 tion to descend upon your son. You look forward 
 to a time when he shall build upon all you bequeath 
 him. It is your consolation, your hope." Thus 
 spoke Durand, who knew how to play upon human 
 weaknesses, and pride. " But should your reputa 
 tion be sullied and spotted this hope will be in vain. 
 You say you will denounce me and shoulder the con 
 sequences, but you alone cannot shoulder all. In 
 this stigma your son will suffer; with you he falls; 
 with your pride, his pride is sacrificed. When you 
 are forced out of this bank, he will be forced out in 
 the world, a son of a criminal father." 
 
 The other s face grew first grave then pale. 
 
 Durand continued. "And for what? That an 
 infant whom you never saw may be rich. Her in-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 85 
 
 terests are weighed against the interests of two, 
 you and your son. Who wins?" 
 
 " Right should win," feebly said Graham. " But 
 my son, ah, Harold," he said, " that I am thus 
 forced. Forced to countenance a damnable wrong 
 by reason of a technical illegality on the part of 
 my directors, the very men who made me. Yet I 
 submit. I must ! " 
 
 " You must and will or I shall divulge what I 
 know ! Agreed ? " 
 
 The other s head hung in silence. The appeal in 
 behalf of his boy, that the boy might not suffer for 
 his father s sins, sins that seemed slight at first, 
 sins that he knew many banks were guilty of, was 
 effective. He well knew that his bank had been 
 temporarily insolvent, and this knowledge, if cast 
 abroad would endanger the bank s interest, cause 
 him to resign, and perhaps be prosecuted. He had 
 looked at the time upon this offense as trivial. He 
 had always stuck closely to this principle of honesty, 
 not thinking his slight offense dishonest. Now he 
 must sacrifice his high principles of honesty or his 
 son. To espouse honesty meant the restitution of 
 the rights of the kidnapped child. To keep silence 
 meant that his son would suffer. Which should he 
 do. 
 
 The son approached the door as though he would 
 enter. The bank president looked upon his descend-
 
 86 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 ant, a quaver was in his voice as he turned upon 
 Durand and said, " I will keep your secret." 
 
 " I will keep yours," said Durand, as he ex 
 tended his hand. The bank president pretended not 
 to see it. 
 
 The son entered. " Father, a lady is waiting 
 outside to see you. She has been waiting for some 
 time." 
 
 " I will see her at once," he said, as he arose. 
 
 Instead of inviting the obnoxious Durand to with 
 draw, as if to get away from the polluted presence 
 of the man who had so mercilessly threatened and 
 coerced him, he went outside. 
 
 " How are the mighty fallen," said Durand to 
 himself as soon as Graham was outside. 
 
 He had an inborn curiosity from which few are 
 exempt. At this time he felt it obligatory to see 
 that Graham immediately fell under no influences 
 adverse to his own interests, so he craned his neck 
 and followed the former s moves. He beheld him 
 with his back toward his own secret room. Stand 
 ing in front of him, so as to be hidden from Du 
 rand s view, was a lady. Her partially concealed 
 figure struck him as familiar, but he did not surmise 
 who she was, until, through the crack in the door 
 that Graham had inadvertently left ajar, he heard 
 her voice. It was Helen Reed. Then she knew 
 Graham, did she? Why this interview? The an-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 87 
 
 swer she gave herself, as she addressed Mr. Gra 
 ham. 
 
 " Mr. Graham," she said, " my charge has disap 
 peared, been stolen, kidnapped." 
 
 "You don t tell me?" 
 
 " Yes, it is true. You warned me, Mr. Graham, 
 that I should keep close watch on her some time 
 ago, but I scarcely thought it necessary then. Now 
 I would to God I had heeded you." 
 
 So Graham had warned the woman before. Well, 
 what would he say now after his fangs were drawn ? 
 
 " I am sorry it is so serious, madam," slowly 
 replied Graham. " Has everything been done that 
 can be for her recovery ? " 
 
 " No, no systematic search conducted privately 
 has been made. I hardly think any will be made 
 unless you can help me. Mr. Graham, I suspect 
 that her guardian is responsible for Olive s disap 
 pearance. True he went with me to the chief of 
 police and mayor s office, a semblance of interest 
 in itself, yet he knew that visit to be futile. Had 
 he not, he would not have gone." 
 
 Durand smiled from his cover and whispered 
 to himself, " Quite true, my lady." 
 
 So far Graham had shown himself to be the sort 
 of man Durand wanted. But Durand was afraid 
 he might yet break down. 
 
 Helen Reed continued : " Mr. Graham, you re-
 
 88 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 member I left a package of securities here in the 
 name of Olive James." 
 
 Durand pricked up his ears. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " They are here yet of course." 
 
 What a fool, Durand thought, in that he had 
 ever mentioned this money to Helen Reed. He 
 would not have done so, only then he wanted some 
 one to keep the child, and he had reluctantly given 
 her this money. 
 
 " So now she has given it to Olive, has she? " 
 
 Chagrin showed in his face, hatred for her and 
 disgust with himself. 
 
 " Mr. Graham," again spoke Helen Reed, " can 
 not I now turn some of these securities into money 
 that I may make a thorough search throughout the 
 land, offering rewards and employing private de 
 tectives rather than sitting idle, as her guardian, 
 who should be active at this time, is doing? " 
 
 " No," said Graham, " I am sorry, but you have 
 deposited these securities in the name of Olive 
 James. None but she or her guardian can touch 
 or take them." 
 
 " Fool that I was," said Helen Reed. " But I 
 did not want to use his money." This aloud, but as 
 though she were alone. 
 
 Durand whispered to himself, " I was the fool." 
 
 Helen Reed collected herself again for a final
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 89 
 
 effort. " Mr. Graham, you will at least advance 
 money for a large reward or search, a reward as 
 an incentive to the police that their work may be 
 heightened in the quest. If you will advance this 
 you run no chances, for should the reward be un 
 claimed you retain it, and if it is claimed and Olive 
 returned it shall be given to you from her estate." 
 
 " Who will pay me ? " asked Graham. 
 
 " Mr. Durand," returned the woman. 
 
 "Durand?" asked Graham. "Durand? You 
 say you think he had an interest in the little one s 
 disappearance, and why then would he refund the 
 money to me in lieu of a reward that he does not 
 or will not offer himself?" 
 
 Durand wondered if Graham were only playing 
 with her. 
 
 Unmindful of his whip over him Graham went 
 on. " What will compel him, Miss Reed, to dis 
 gorge to me, even if the child is recovered? 
 
 Promptly she answered, " The law, the law." 
 
 Graham winced. He had always been an up 
 holder and believer in the law, but now that word 
 to him had a grating sound. He knew and realized 
 it was the club of the law Durand held over him 
 that compelled him to refuse what he gladly would 
 have done under other circumstances. He an 
 swered, " Madam, I cannot do what you ask." 
 
 She fell on her knees at his feet. " In the name
 
 90 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 of God, do this one kind act; you are rich and 
 could afford, would afford much more, were she 
 your own child." 
 
 His own child. The words touched him. 
 
 She pleaded. " I beg of you that you lend your 
 assistance; will you not? I know I am asking much 
 of you, a stranger almost, but my love, as great as 
 a mother s love, prompts me. Have you not a 
 father s love in your heart ? Will you not help me ? " 
 
 Durand shifted uneasily. Few men can stand 
 such pleading and he felt Graham would fall. He 
 snatched up a piece of paper, hastily writing on it 
 in large letters and holding the same against the 
 glass of the door, softly tapped on the pane. He 
 would attract Graham s attention before he replied, 
 for he felt that Graham was growing weaker. Gra 
 ham turned and read from the paper on the glass: 
 " If you fail me, remember, I expose yon." 
 
 At this time Graham was almost willing to con 
 sent to sacrifice himself to the pleadings of the wo 
 man and to the consequences Durand s exposure 
 might entail, and by it abide. He had this in mind 
 when he had just refused her. He had not replied 
 to her the last time she had pleaded. Durand had 
 called his attention to the note when he was about 
 to tell the woman he would help her. Disdaining 
 this warning from Durand he turned towards Helen 
 Reed and was about to answer.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 91 
 
 Durand read upon his face what the answer 
 would be, and felt it meant defeat and perhaps 
 flight, for he knew his charges against Graham to be 
 much less serious than the ones that would accrue 
 to himself in retaliation. He had played upon Gra 
 ham s sensibilities to a greater extent than he knew. 
 Just now he concerned himself about this. Would 
 he, Durand, win against this woman ? 
 
 " Woman," said Graham, as he cleared his throat 
 and w r as about to begin. The noise of the opening 
 of the door aroused him. He looked toward the 
 door of ingress from the corridor. His son entered, 
 picked up some papers from among others on a desk 
 near by and passed out. Then and there came back 
 to him the words of Durand: Would he sacrifice 
 his own son for what he might erroneously think 
 was right. He shook violently. The love for his 
 son asserted itself and gained the supremacy. He 
 opened his mouth, but spoke the words little above 
 a whisper : " I can do nothing for you." 
 
 " I will take those securities," said Durand as 
 she withdrew. 
 
 " Never," said Graham so forcibly that the other 
 was cowed. 
 
 " Do you mean it? " he asked. 
 
 " I do," came the not uncertain answer.
 
 92 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 As soon as Durand reached home, he sent for 
 Mile. Sara Le Blanc. Helen Reed was thoroughly 
 aroused to the necessity of immediate action in 
 the recovery of Olive, he knew. It was also plain 
 that she suspected him. He had no desire to con 
 test his actions in the intricacies of legal proceed 
 ings. He saw in the future great pleasures and 
 gain; saw that with the wealth that he should 
 soon have, life would hold more possibilities and 
 pleasures than heretofore. Fearing then the law as 
 an instrument in the hands of Helen Reed against 
 him, he decided that immediate action toward cover 
 ing his tracks was advisable. He knew also that 
 the police, once thoroughly aroused would have little 
 trouble in connecting the theft of the child with 
 himself, the only one who could profit by her dis 
 appearance. With Graham silenced, the evolution 
 of the case against him would be slight, but in time 
 his connection with Mile. Le Blanc would be known 
 and the object of this connection be suspected. 
 After that the discovery of Olive with Mile. Sara
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 93 
 
 would be comparatively easy. Conviction for him 
 self would follow this discovery, hence something 
 must be done at once. 
 
 Leaving Durand to reflect as to what he would 
 do when Mile. Sara arrived, let us look into the 
 history of the woman who for filthy lucre had done 
 his bidding in the stealing of Olive, with whom he 
 had connived for the secretion and robbing of an 
 innocent child. As we have said, Durand knew 
 but little of Mile. Sara Le Blanc. She, in answer to 
 his advertisement, had appeared at his house and 
 had carried on her part of the plot to the entire 
 satisfaction and approval of her employer. Outside 
 of the matter in hand, she had conversed little, 
 telling nothing about herself. Had she been a 
 murderess even, to him it mattered not. She might 
 have claimed saintly inclinations, that also mattered 
 little. If she did his bidding that was all he asked. 
 
 The truth was, Mile. Sara was of France. Bred 
 and reared in Paris, she had absorbed its reckless 
 ness, its immorality, its disregard of God. The 
 time of her younger days she had spent alternating 
 between the profession of an artists model and liv 
 ing the life of a Bohemian on the Riviera. A year 
 before, leaving her own land, she had joined a 
 ballet that was an accessory to a simple and sug 
 gestive opera, an opera that was so depraved that 
 it nearly met death in New York where things Par-
 
 94 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 isian are often tolerated. She was a true advent 
 uress as her alternating life showed. Since the 
 disbanding- of her troupe, she had lived as the " one 
 half " only knows, yet she did not show poverty or 
 physical suffering. So we infer that she was by 
 no means destitute. She had joined that great 
 rank and file of whom it is said, " they live by their 
 wits." This, properly interpreted, means by crime. 
 It was so with her. Did any one lack evidence in 
 criminating, those who knew her felt she could 
 be relied on to furnish the same. Was evidence 
 lacking in proceedings of the law, she could be re 
 lied on to furnish the same. The hunted those 
 fleeing from justice in her rooms found a haven 
 temporarily where, for pay, and large pay, they 
 could enjoy her asylum, a respite from the vigil 
 ance of the police. Daily she perused the papers, 
 read the personal notices as we have shown, and in 
 this way had come into the employ of Durand. 
 
 Since the coming of Olive to live with her in her 
 small East side flat, where surrounded by vice and 
 crime she lived, she had manifested a degree of 
 goodness, in that she had been kind to the little one, 
 buying her delicacies and reading to her, telling her 
 of the city of her nationality, and in fact liking the 
 little one, not alone for the revenue she brought but 
 for herself. Seldom is a woman so bad, and bad
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 95 
 
 women can be hellish, but that she still keeps the 
 inborn love for a child that is God-given. 
 
 For this reason the child had been well taken care 
 of and was not entirely unhappy. She understood 
 that a change in her habitation had taken place, 
 and for several days she was disconsolate that her 
 new-found mamma in the person of Helen Reed 
 did not come to see her. Then childlike she had 
 accepted the situation, forgetting what was past, 
 and was contented. To the credit of Mile. Sara, 
 let it be said that all things evil had been kept from 
 her sight. No criminals were then harbored, and 
 did she have visitors and a bit of revelry when the 
 wine flowed and the tongue quickened, these things 
 were after the little one was asleep. 
 
 Durand was waiting, as we have said, for Sara. 
 She came. 
 
 " How is the little one? " he asked. 
 
 " Well," said the woman, " and happy." 
 
 " Happy?" he asked, as if happiness were incon 
 gruous with her present position. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " happy." 
 
 "Would she be happy, if elsewhere?" he asked. 
 
 " Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Why do you ask ? 
 Do you contemplate any change in her habitation? " 
 
 " I do," he said. 
 
 " Is it necessary? "
 
 96 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " It was for this reason I sent for you, that we 
 might discuss it." 
 
 In Durand s fertile mind there were already prop 
 agated schemes for this thing he proposed to do, 
 the secreting of the child where he thought she 
 would be reared all unconscious of what might be 
 passing in the world, and where, should she live to 
 a discretionary age, she would be practically alone 
 in the world, with no influential assistance to re 
 gain her rights and benefits. This partially com 
 pleted scheme he explained pro and con, asking 
 for advice here, detailing something new there, sug 
 gesting when necessary a new and a large bribe to 
 the woman who would have hesitated at no crime 
 had the competency been large enough. Finally 
 the plans were matured. 
 
 " When is this to be done? " asked Mile. Sara. 
 
 "At once." 
 
 " It will require a day or so to get ready ; my 
 disguise must be impenetrable." 
 
 " All right," he said, " but hasten."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 97 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE Holy Convent of the Apostles, as regards its 
 
 proximity to the population who furnished it ma 
 terial, was advantageously located. In the most evil, 
 and poverty-ridden districts, it held aloft its small 
 spire. It proclaimed the mission of the church 
 where it was most needed, serving as a beacon light 
 in the midst of moral decay. Thousands of people 
 passed beneath its shadow. The poor and the super 
 stitious looked upon it in awe. The believers in 
 the faith by which it was erected felt a new light 
 break over their souls when near it. The wicked, 
 the truly wicked, in passing took the other side of 
 the street. Small and unimposing, few outside its 
 precincts, save those of the Catholic religion, knew 
 how it existed, knew of the sacrificing, praying 
 sisters in whose hands it was placed. 
 
 Its entire aspect was uninviting and mean. Low 
 stone walls enclosed the structure. Small windows 
 were cut through the plainness of the walls, where 
 they from within, who had renounced the world, 
 could obtain a little light, a little of God s free air 
 
 7
 
 98 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 to cheer them on in their way through a life devoted 
 to the care and shortcomings of others. An ivy 
 vine nearly covered the front of that part of the 
 house exposed to the passer-by. A small garden in 
 side the low brick wall was, in the summer time, 
 well kept and well filled with its own beautiful 
 products. 
 
 The passer-by had only a short view of the in 
 terior of the brick wall, and this through a massive 
 iron paled gate. From this gate led a flag-walk back 
 some dozen paces where it entered a low, heavy 
 door. We will later view something of the inside 
 of this convent, so for the present we will pass over 
 its interior details. 
 
 Within these four walls were cared for the small 
 unfortunates of the world, the abandoned, the in 
 digent and the illegitimate. This place, or rather 
 this type of place is not new. Situated throughout 
 the world, they are a power for good, a harbor 
 for the infant needy. Ten blocks from this place 
 one emerged into a totally different atmosphere 
 socially, into the moral sunlight. 
 
 The pedestrian near this convent at the lonely 
 hour of midnight might well feel timid. Two 
 blocks away he could walk alone at this hour of the 
 night with impunity. 
 
 A closely covered carriage in the former locality 
 at night would excite little interest or suspicion,
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 99 
 
 however. So none took particular notice of a 
 closely hooded conveyance that, after coming from 
 an uptown district, spent a little time in driving 
 about the particular vicinity of the convent, the 
 horses governed by the driver who in turn might be 
 obeying the commands given from inside. 
 
 They seemed in no hurry as they wended their 
 way through these particular streets. Not that the 
 occupants lacked courage to carry out their nefar 
 ious plot. On the contrary they felt no fear that 
 their plans might miscarry. In cold blood these 
 plans had been laid. The coolness of the plotters 
 alone was a safeguard. Besides they were un 
 likely to be detected by the police, and if this should 
 take place they relied on their wits to safeguard 
 them. 
 
 Inside this carriage were three persons, first, 
 a man; second, a woman; and third, a child. The 
 man would easily be recognized. No attempt had 
 been made by him to disguise his identity. 
 
 The woman, however, was garbed as a poverty 
 stricken creature, her dress of cheap material, soiled 
 and torn, and a great gap rendering the skirt al 
 most unwearable. An old, tawdry shawl covered 
 her head and were it not for the blonde hair that 
 showed through around the face in many places, 
 none would recognize her. 
 
 The little girl was likewise cheaply garbed.
 
 ioo THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 About her form was an old cloak that, patched and 
 threadbare, was folded about her rather slight frame 
 making her look the typical child of the poor or a 
 waif of the streets. Her toes showed through the 
 worn-out shoes. Her knees were apparent as 
 they stuck out from underneath the folds of the 
 cloak. Instead of crying over her seeming change 
 of fortune, she sat back in the seat quietly, as if 
 overcome by the passing events and the shifting, 
 rapid changes in her status and habitation. 
 
 The man and the woman had scarcely spoken, 
 while covering the distance to this locality. Now 
 the woman leaned forward and said, " We are near 
 the stopping place." The man opened the aperture 
 in front and in low tones said to the driver, " When 
 you make sure the streets are deserted stop any 
 where about here." 
 
 After this conversation nothing was heard from 
 the interior. The vehicle slowly rolled about for 
 an hour over this street and back that one, all the 
 while keeping in proximity to the convent. 
 
 At last after what seemed to the occupants to be 
 many hours, the driver fetched the carriage up close 
 to the curb and said to those inside: " It is now 
 about midnight ; none are to be seen hereabouts." 
 
 The man and woman alighted, the woman bear 
 ing the child in her arms. The child was innocently 
 sleeping. The midnight vigil and ride had over-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 101 
 
 come the newness of the conditions that first aroused 
 her, and nature had its inning. 
 
 " This way," the woman said, as she led the way 
 down the street. The noise of drunken voices 
 floated on the night air to them, as they progressed, 
 drunken voices singing, men s voices mingled 
 with the tones of women, in ribald songs. Across 
 the street came the screams of a woman who may 
 have been in anguish from the pains of disease, or 
 mayhap from the blows of a drunken husband. The 
 wail of a child was heard as if the mother had de 
 serted it for the dance hall around the corner. 
 
 Silently the two strode along, the woman still 
 carrying the child, while the waiting carriage drove 
 leisurely about. The child awoke with a start and 
 cried. She put her down and took her hand. " I 
 want to go to bed," wailed the little one. 
 
 " Soon, soon," came the woman s answer, an an 
 swer that might have been harsher had the woman 
 possessed less feminine instincts than she did. But 
 aside from any sentiment she may have felt toward 
 the little one, there was the battle of life to follow, 
 as a thing ever in front, and means had to be pro 
 vided for its contingencies. 
 
 As they came close to the convent the woman 
 whispered, " You may leave me here." 
 
 " How do you expect to gain entrance ? " he 
 asked.
 
 102 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " I noticed a wire reaching from the gate to the 
 interior. This probably connects with a bell inside 
 and by pulling this wire I shall arouse the inmates 
 and gain access to the Mother Superior." 
 
 " Good luck," and he suddenly turned about, and 
 retreated in the opposite direction. 
 
 The woman and child moved forward. No such 
 hesitancy came to her as it was said Csesar once 
 experienced. Caesar might hesitate to extend his 
 conquest, but not she to enlarge her purse. They 
 reached the gate. The woman thrust her arms 
 through the aperture in the pickets and grasped the 
 wire that she had discovered while here a day or 
 so before on a reconnoitering trip. She heard no 
 tinkling response from the inside, but assumed the 
 bell did ring. She waited a moment, then impa 
 tiently tugged on the wire again. This time a light 
 from within the dormer window showed as evidence 
 of her efforts. 
 
 A few minutes passed and then appeared a cloaked 
 figure, emerging from the door, coming slowly and 
 haltingly from the gate. The Mother Superior, 
 for it was she who came, pressed close against the 
 gate and peered out in the darkness at her visitor. 
 No street lights were visible and she was unable 
 to make out the other s form plainly. 
 
 " It is I, Mother," the woman said. " It is I, a 
 believer in the faith."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 103 
 
 " What would you with me that you interrupt 
 my midnight prayer, a prayer so sacred that even 
 the sisters do not interrupt? " 
 
 " I forgot about the midnight prayer, Mother. I 
 am in need; greatly in need, so I forgot." 
 
 "In need? How?" 
 
 " Poor and starving." 
 
 " Starving/ you say? Your tones of voice are 
 full and round to come from a starving person. 
 The starving speak in whispers." 
 
 " No, Mother, it is true. I am in want, I and 
 my child here." 
 
 "A child do you say?" and the tones of the 
 Mother became softened. "A child do you say? 
 Enter that I may see this child." 
 
 The Mother fumbled in her cloak for a moment, 
 produced a key and unlocked the gate and said, 
 " Enter with your child." 
 
 " Come, daughter," the woman said, as taking 
 the little one s hand she obeyed the command of the 
 nun. 
 
 Entering the small reception hall, the Mother 
 brought a light. Keeping it in her hand she ap 
 proached the two visitors. She looked upon the 
 child. " A sweet child," she said, as she patted 
 her hand, " but she is not starving." 
 
 The hour was late and the little one hungry, and 
 when she heard the Mother say she was not starv-
 
 104 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 ing, she took it as a challenge and promptly cried 
 out, " I am hungry, awful hungry." 
 
 The Mother turned upon the ragged woman be 
 fore her. 
 
 "What do you want here?" 
 
 " Shelter for my child." 
 
 The Mother thought a moment and answered as 
 she looked upon the little one, " She shall have 
 it," as if convinced now of the necessity of food 
 for the child. 
 
 " Tell me your -troubles," she said, as she turned 
 upon the woman. 
 
 " My husband," the woman said as her tone of 
 voice faltered, " is a drunkard; he beats me." Here 
 she commenced to sob violently, a bit of acting that 
 deceived the Mother Superior completely. 
 
 Falling upon her knees, the woman hysterically 
 cried, " Oh, Mother, cannot you shelter my child 
 until such a time as I can better care for her ? Can 
 you not in the name of the Holy Virgin lend me 
 help? For myself it matters not, but my child, my 
 child must not suffer." 
 
 Here the little girl, as if overcome by recollection 
 of scenes at home, began crying lustily; and the 
 Mother Superior felt she should do Something for 
 the two. 
 
 " It is the same old story," she said, as she 
 looked upon the child, " a drunken father, a
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 105 
 
 drunken father." Softly to herself she repeated a 
 prayer and then going to the register near by said : 
 " We will keep your child, madam ; tell me her 
 name. It is important that all here be registered." 
 
 The woman s brain worked quickly. She saw no 
 reason for disguising the child s name, and as she 
 saw the Mother Superior move towards the regis 
 ter she quickly decided she would give the right 
 name of the child. 
 
 " Olive James," she answered. Why should she 
 disguise her name in a city where the child was 
 unknown, and in a convent of which few people 
 know ? 
 
 "It is only temporary, Mother; I will claim 
 Olive soon." 
 
 The Mother nodded. " My child," she said to 
 Mile. Sara, for it was she, " shall we not give you 
 a bed for the night also ? " 
 
 " No, good Mother, I must go back to him and to 
 my miserable home." A sigh escaped her lips so 
 long and natural that the Mother Superior, catch 
 ing the inspiration herself, drew a longer one. 
 
 Mile. Sara kissed the little one, partially because 
 she wanted to and partially to carry out her de 
 ception, and started to withdraw. 
 
 " God be with you," whispered the Mother. 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 She passed through the gate that the Mother 
 had unlocked for her.
 
 io6 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 DURAND called on Mile. Sara a few days later. 
 
 " Mile. Sara," he said, " cannot a plan be per 
 fected, whereby this child Olive might be proven 
 legally dead ? " 
 
 " I don t understand," the woman had replied. 
 " Do you expect me to murder ? " 
 
 It would be supposed that Durand would now be 
 satisfied after depositing the child in the convent. 
 Here if none interfered, she would grow up, and 
 if in time she did not remain there as a nun, if she 
 chose to leave the convent, casting herself out upon 
 the world, she would be without identity. She could 
 not be expected to remember the incidents of her 
 early surroundings, knowing nothing of herself, 
 and having nothing from her past life but her name. 
 
 But Durand now saw reason for a deeper con 
 cealment of the child. As guardian without bond 
 he could transfer the securities he held into 
 money, use the money to buy others or even these 
 same securities back, and in so doing gain title 
 in his own name. Yet this plan had its objec-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 107 
 
 tions and pitfalls. Suppose some one in after years 
 should take up the matter in the interests of the 
 child, and do battle for her and against him ? Some 
 one might arise to do it. Graham was the one he 
 feared most, but he now was harmless, yet safety 
 should have insurance, and he must fortify himself 
 against the invisible others. 
 
 " No," he answered her last question ; " I don t 
 expect you to murder any one, but did you not tell 
 me the other night, as we were returning, that the 
 Mother had asked you the child s name, and you 
 had given her real name? Listen! This day I 
 went to call upon Helen Reed. She had gone, 
 given up her apartments and none knew of her 
 whereabouts. We need not fear that she will rise 
 up to contradict the workings of the plans I shall 
 explain to you." 
 
 Again these two sat in conference, a conference 
 in which Durand was the master mind or chief 
 plotter as well as the financier. 
 
 As the result of this conference, the next day a 
 carriage again took Mile. Sara near to the con 
 vent. The woman was clad in the same untidy 
 rags, and walked the street boldly in the light of 
 day to the gate. This time no one need be sum 
 moned to open it, as by day the gate was left un 
 locked. She walked boldly in. She hoped she 
 might have a few moments alone in that reception
 
 io8 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 hall where she had been received on the occasion of 
 her other visit. She even hoped to enter and re 
 turn undetected. If detected she reasoned that she 
 could show the most plausible of excuses. She had 
 come to visit her child. If she was suspicioned, and 
 her mission failed she would come again when con 
 ditions were more opportune for her purpose. She 
 would keep coming until she should find herself 
 alone in that corridor with none to interfere. 
 
 Cautiously she opened the door and stepped inside 
 the corridor. No one was there. Moving quickly 
 along to the desk, that held the register, she took 
 from the interior of her ragged dress a fountain 
 pen. Unsheathing it, and bearing down heavily so 
 the flow of ink would be correspondingly heavy, 
 she over traced the words " Olive James " that the 
 Mother had written. Over the top of this column 
 which she had traced was printed the word 
 " Name " in bold type ; following this was the 
 column for " Ages," followed by others of ex 
 planations, and the last column read " Final Dis 
 position." Here Mile. Sara wrote " Died " the 
 
 day of in the year This date was 
 
 the exact date of this visit, or five days later than 
 the previous visit. Again reaching into her dress 
 she drew forth a clean blotting paper. Hastily and 
 before the ink was dry, she applied it to the parts 
 her pen had touched. For a moment she left it,
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 109 
 
 smoothing its upper surface carefully meanwhile, 
 that the impression might be perfect. That blotter 
 had been handed her before she alighted from the 
 carriage, clean and white, and the impression which 
 it would bear when she returned it would secure an 
 addition to her funds, that had grown so rapidly of 
 late. She examined the reverse side as she with 
 drew it, and evidently found it to her liking, for 
 she smiled when she looked upon it. 
 
 " The nuns are at prayer," she whispered as 
 she heard the sweet music of an invocation float to 
 her. Concealing the pen and the blotter, again she 
 passed out of the convent and over the walk to the 
 street. 
 
 Two hours later she was home and counting the 
 money, money this trip and trick had brought 
 her. " Now," she said, " I will go back home, back 
 to Paris, the soil of which I love. I have wealth 
 now. The three times Monsieur has employed me 
 have paid well, Oh, so well," as she hugged the 
 money to herself. " No more activities for me. In 
 Paris one can live well, on so little." 
 
 Durand on the other hand, at home sat studying 
 the reversed letters on the blotter. " It is O.K," 
 he said, as the old evil look we have seen before 
 when he had been successful came into his eyes and 
 face. " That settles it, I hold here proof of the 
 death of my ward. Her money is now mine.
 
 no THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Nothing can ever be called up or proven against 
 me. In all this affair my hand has been concealed, 
 even more successfully than the hands of the banker 
 are concealed in the stock market manipulations," 
 as his mind reverted to Graham. 
 
 Again holding up the blotter he looked at it 
 with manifest satisfaction. Still holding it in 
 his hand, as the words spelled emancipation he 
 called out : " Perkins come here." Perkins came. 
 " In one week I start out to see the world. In 
 seeing it I shall encompass it. For many a year 
 these haunts shall know me no more ! "
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. in 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE seasons had revolved one-half, changing the 
 drear of Fall to the joyousness of Spring. Instead 
 of barrenness and dry leaves, the earth had shot 
 forth her grass and the trees their leaves. The 
 trailing vine over the convent of the Holy Apostles 
 had changed its brown of winter to the greenness 
 that delights the eye. The gardens were full of 
 early roses. Here and there buds of flowers gave 
 promise of future beauty and perfume. 
 
 One pleasant morning the nuns walked about 
 with the children. On this particular morning, 
 the Mother Superior had accompanied them, some 
 dozen in all, perhaps, of the little unfortunate girls. 
 Their faces showed delight at what they saw of 
 nature, within the limited walls of the convent gar 
 den. Two by two they passed about, the nuns 
 responding to their many questions. 
 
 Stopping at one particular arbor that was en 
 twined heavily with early June roses, the Mother 
 said, " See, my children, the beautiful roses God has 
 given us that we may look upon, not only enjoying 
 the sight and their sweet odors, but in them see
 
 ii2 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Him. But a short time ago these vines were black 
 and bare. What a transformation ! It is so with 
 the soul. Though we wither and die, yet shall we 
 come forth at the resurrection." 
 
 She stepped up and picked one of the largest of 
 the roses. "Whoever saw anything so beautiful; 
 has any one here?" She looked about, expecting 
 to find many negative answers from the bright eyes 
 intently fastened upon her. Several shook their 
 heads. Others maintained silence as if they knew 
 not what was required for them to say. 
 
 The girls frocks of blue, with white aprons, were 
 alike. At a distance they could not be identified. 
 At close range their features, of course, were the 
 means of identification. One who, by her pale, dark 
 face and large intelligent eyes, the Mother knew 
 to be the little girl who had been left there by the 
 woman with the blonde hair, answered: 
 
 " I have seen more beautiful roses." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In our garden at home," she went on, " we 
 had hyacinths and marigolds and roses all as pretty 
 as these and some more so. I like pretty things 
 too," she said, " pretty hats and dresses, and 
 candies as I used to have them." The other little 
 girls who had known these beautiful things only by 
 hearsay or story, gazed with eyes, ears and mouths 
 open.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 113 
 
 " Hush, child," said the Mother. 
 
 Olive did not hush. " I do not like those plain 
 blue dresses. Once I had a red one, trimmed with 
 braid and gold quartz buttons. My last mamma 
 had promised me a little fur lined coat for last 
 winter, but some one took me away from her and 
 then I came here. I would rather go back with 
 my mamma," she added, 
 
 " Cease this worldly talk," the Mother said, as 
 she noticed the reference the child had made to her 
 former home. She knew now that the child did 
 not belong to the blonde woman who had left her. 
 She distrusted entirely this ragged woman who had 
 brought Olive. She remembered now the slight 
 French accent with which the woman spoke. The 
 child she could see had no French blood in her 
 veins. Besides, the one was dark and the other 
 light in complexion. There was no family resem 
 blance. Certainly this woman had not given these 
 beautiful things she mentioned. Why had she not 
 noticed these things before. Perhaps the child had 
 been stolen and taken from her own. She would 
 later investigate. Just then a bell in the convent 
 sounded. 
 
 " Sisters," said the Mother, " march the children 
 into the chapel that they may see the solemn pro 
 ceedings that shall take place there this morning. 
 8
 
 H4 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The bell summons me and I will now prepare for 
 the ceremony." 
 
 An hour later, pealing through the corridors of 
 the chapel and the various rooms of the convent the 
 music of the chapel organ sounded, to die down 
 to a hushed tone as the solemn Te Deum was 
 chanted by female voices coming from an enclosure 
 just back of the organ. Ave Marias followed. 
 More of the grand notes from the organ again 
 shook the building. 
 
 From the door at the left entered a procession. 
 The Mother Superior was at its head. Then came 
 nuns and finally a novitiate, she who would this 
 day enter upon her life as a novitiate, avowed to 
 new things, renouncing the world to live only for 
 others. 
 
 An hour later the trying ordeal was over. To 
 Christ, the Church and suffering humanity, the life 
 of the novitiate had been consecrated. The sisters 
 started from the altar, the procession that in ap 
 proaching the altar before had in its line a recruit 
 from the world, a woman anxious to leave this 
 world behind. Now she marched from the altar a 
 novitiate. Her brief term as a candidate had 
 proven her all that was desired. This newly made 
 novitiate moved with faltering, hesitating steps. 
 The fasting preceding had weakened her physical 
 body. She was supported on each side by a nun,
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 115 
 
 whose duty it was to attend her in case she felt sick 
 or faint. Slowly the procession moved across the 
 front of the rather narrow chapel, and turned to the 
 left, thence along the left to the exit where the 
 principal actor would repair to the solitude of her 
 cell to fast, pray, and commune alone for a time, 
 from which she would emerge eventually to take 
 her part in the great dispensing of goodness and 
 self-denial that would follow in her life. 
 
 However, after the procession had turned the 
 angle at the left and come towards the seats 
 whereon were huddled the little ones called from 
 the garden a short time before, the newly made 
 novitiate s veil was lifted and she looked about her. 
 Simultaneously with the lifting of the veil, the cry 
 of " mamma " repeated thrice came from one of the 
 little ones. The Holy Mother looked aghast. The 
 nuns stopped and their faces blanched. This unholy 
 interruption merited punishment they knew, which 
 they would dread to witness. Besides the passing 
 events of the hour aroused superstitious dread, a 
 thing sometimes present in the minds of those of 
 deep religions conviction, or those who practise 
 assiduously religious rites. 
 
 Horror-stricken were they when they saw the 
 little Olive James rush past those who would re 
 strain her, and eagerly run to the candidate, her 
 arms outstretched, the cry " mamma " upon her 
 lips.
 
 n6 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Consternation reigned. The recently made novi 
 tiate went forward crying, " Olive ! How came 
 you here? Tell me, child." But the only answer 
 she received was the same " mamma." 
 
 The Mother Superior turned about and made her 
 way to the pair who were responsible for the delay 
 and the amazement. 
 
 Her voice trembled as she asked, " What means 
 this unusual scene? Explain at once and in the 
 presence of these sisters here, who are shocked." 
 
 " There is little to explain, Holy Mother. This 
 little one I knew when I was out in the world. She 
 was stolen from me. I find her here. By reason 
 of my loss of her, she whom God gave to my care, 
 I came here, hoping that if I could not longer 
 serve her I might help and serve others. That is 
 all." 
 
 " But the little one called you mother. You 
 have assured us you were a virgin. Is that so? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you spoke the truth then ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mother, she is not my child. I was to 
 her a mother, and allowed her to so call me." 
 
 " Enough for now," said the Mother, as she took 
 Olive s arm and seated her from whence she had 
 come. 
 
 The procession then moved forward.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 117 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WE have shown the proceedings that made Helen 
 Reed a novitiate, proceedings that ended in a great 
 surprise to all concerned. It is only fair that we 
 explain briefly how this woman came to where we 
 last saw her. The fact that she was a Catholic 
 has been confided already. Her religion figured in 
 the first rupture between her and Mortimer James. 
 Always consistent in her religious convictions, in 
 outward manifestations she was always tolerant to 
 wards others and exacted the same towards herself. 
 This had been her attitude towards her former 
 lover. He had not entirely given up his own ideas 
 inculcated by being reared in the Protestant faith, 
 when the woman he afterwards married appeared 
 on the scene. Her wealth furnished a most alluring 
 reason for severing the attachment between himself 
 and Helen Reed. Besides he then told her he might 
 tolerate it in her, but he would never consent that 
 their children should be reared in the Catholic 
 faith. She was right in her suspicion, however, 
 that the wealth of this new rival had more to do 
 with the matter than did her religion.
 
 n8 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Helen Reed \vas not born in the Catholic faith. 
 Her dear old father, to whose care her mother at 
 her death had consigned her, had reared her in the 
 Protestant faith, he being an Episcopal divine. The 
 ritual of the latter church had impressed her as 
 empty of things she sought. Her place was with 
 those of the mother church ; she had a desire for the 
 traditional rites and historic ceremonies of the 
 ancient Greeks as copied by the mother church. In 
 the Catholic Church she found her heart s desire. 
 
 At the death of her father, whose pastorate in a 
 small country town had given little chance for the 
 accumulation of wealth, thrown on her own re 
 sources and being obliged to earn her own living, 
 she had taken up with the work in the hospital as a 
 nurse where Durand in his search had found her. 
 
 At this time, she had about resolved in her own 
 mind to enter a convent. She had a desire to be 
 inside a convent, where impressive ceremonies and 
 rites were exacted. 
 
 The coming of Olive James into her life, how 
 ever, had for the time changed her mind, for she 
 realized that perhaps she had been called elsewhere 
 to perform her duty to the world and mankind. 
 This and the fact that she distrusted Durand had 
 actuated her change of mind the day he called upon 
 her. bringing the little girl. 
 
 After Olive had left her. there seemed nothing
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 119 
 
 else to do but enter a convent, as the voice within 
 seemed to say her place in life was to continue it as 
 a nun. She had made a diligent search for Olive 
 unassisted, and came to know full well that this 
 search was futile, that Durand had outwitted her. 
 Giving up the search, she had through her con 
 fessor sought a shelter in a convent and succeeded in 
 finding the one described, wherein she had found 
 Olive. 
 
 From the day she became a novitiate, her in 
 terest in Olive was deeper than before. By gradual 
 questioning she elicited from her the story of her 
 kidnapping and learned of the blonde woman who 
 had brought her there. One day she became in 
 terested in what name had been given Olive at the 
 time she was left there. " Olive " she was still 
 called by all, and she wondered if Durand or this 
 woman was audacious enough to give the child s 
 real name. She questioned the Mother Superior. 
 Such details had escaped her. The sister could 
 examine the register herself if she chose. The 
 register forthwith was consulted. There she found 
 Olive s full name given, also she read the startling 
 information that the child was dead. She hurriedly 
 sought the Mother. 
 
 " Mother," she said, " I read in the register that 
 the death of Olive James was recorded some little 
 time ago. Why is this?"
 
 120 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " I know not," said the Mother, " I will see it 
 mysellf; I cannot believe our books have been tam 
 pered with." 
 
 So saying she repaired to the corridor where she 
 consulted the book. 
 
 " It is true," she said, " Olive s death is re 
 corded. Why I cannot say. By whom I know not. 
 The handwriting is by none here, I am sure. Some 
 one from out in the world has done this. I wonder, 
 why." 
 
 The novitiate thought, " I know who and why. 
 Durand is who and Olive s money is why." After 
 this, she thought seriously over this false entry. 
 The Mother made inquiry regarding the conduct 
 of all recent visitors, but as Mme. Sara had come and 
 gone all unseen, her connection with it was not 
 discovered. The novitiate considered it as a warn 
 ing that Olive might still be in danger. She con 
 sidered it a move on the part of Durand to effec 
 tively hide Olive. Suppose again he might, as he 
 considered on how small a matter hinged his safety, 
 decide it necessary that she be further secreted. He 
 who could penetrate to the sanctity of a convent 
 and falsify its records could do much, if not every 
 thing, that he set out to do. She feared he might 
 some day come back to further obliterate, from 
 those who knew her, the memory of the little one. 
 She longed for something to happen that would
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 121 
 
 frustrate this, hoping that Olive, in some way, might 
 leave the convent, even though this change would 
 give her much concern. Yet she who was Helen 
 Reed longed for the coming of some circumstance 
 that would place Olive beyond the reach of that 
 evil genius, Durand. 
 
 A year went by, and again on a bright Spring 
 morning the inmates of the convent were summoned 
 to the chapel. The little ones were seated as be 
 fore. The nuns filed in, led by the Mother. The 
 organ pealed forth its notes of sweetness, fol 
 lowed by the melancholy notes of the funeral march. 
 The procession stopped before the altar and solemn 
 vows were pledged, the world was renounced and 
 personal abnegation was pledged by the candidate. 
 She would henceforth devote herself to others. 
 She would suffer, if need be, as the Master had 
 suffered, and for his sake in the world. It was a 
 solemn, awful vow, yet she who repeated it fal 
 tered not. Clearly the resolute affirmative answers 
 were responded to and Helen Reed, the novitiate, 
 became Sister Celestine. When it was over, the 
 Mother held aloft her hand for silence and atten 
 tion, and said, " Let me announce the glad news. 
 We who are out of the world welcome glad news. 
 Glad news to us means not what it once did, then 
 it was pleasure, now it means a further chance to 
 fulfill our mission, to perform our work. We wel-
 
 122 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 come these things that compel the endurance of suf 
 fering, for tried in its crucible we are fit for our 
 work. In the world there is strife and contention; 
 here, none, except we strive as to who can best 
 serve our cause. Let this then be a contention as 
 to who will perform the work I will mention. 
 
 " In a far off Southern country, English-speak 
 ing sisters are needed. I glory that we have an 
 opportunity to show our sacrifice for that country. 
 It is disease-infected, hot, and intensely wicked. 
 Fortitude and help from the Holy Mother alone 
 can sustain her who attempts this mission. I will 
 call for volunteers. Who will go ? " 
 
 Each and every nun raised her hand, including 
 the newly-made Sister Celestine. 
 
 " Good," the Mother said, " but only one can be 
 spared at present. Which shall it be?" 
 
 Then she called upon each sister, asking each why 
 she considered herself fitted or called .upon for 
 sacrifice. The answers were varied and enlighten 
 ing. One could best go because she had no worldly 
 parents to mourn the distance that separated them. 
 Another was formerly from the South and by 
 previous acclimation could cope with the adverse 
 climatic conditions, and so on the answers came. 
 
 At last the Mother spoke thus : " Sister Celestine, 
 you though but a sister of a few moments show
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 123 
 
 a devotion to the cause that is commendable. Why, 
 sister, should you go?" 
 
 " Mother," was the answer, " I am fit only in this 
 that by going, I may, if the little one here that is 
 dear to me can go along, save a human life, her life. 
 Her short existence has been beset with many diffi 
 culties, and her future pathway may, I fear, if she 
 stays here, be one of danger. I fear for her life." 
 
 " Our first precept is to do good to others," re 
 turned the Mother. " I am satisfied by the falsify 
 ing of the register that this little one is in danger. 
 Sister, you may go, and take the little one with you. 
 May the Holy and Blessed Virgin intercede in your 
 behalf." 
 
 " Praise and adoration to the Holy Virgin," 
 echoed the Sisters.
 
 124 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JUST off the walk in one of the street cafes, which 
 are without side walls or coverings, save an awning, 
 in a foreign city, a man sat dining. 
 
 Did I say a foreign city? Yes, tis true. A city 
 about which perhaps more has been said and written 
 than of any municipality in the world. The great 
 Hugo, himself its resident, in that great dramatic 
 work, " Les Miserables " in which are incorporated 
 logic, science, religion and the varied play of hu 
 man passions, takes a multitude of words to de 
 scribe it. 
 
 The city has long been known as the center of 
 French society, festivities, and fashions as well; a 
 city where in the past, empires and republics have 
 been born and blood spilled. Its records abound in 
 tales of deposed kings, of men and women unfaith 
 ful to the marriage vows, these high in matters of 
 state too; and of amorous prelate and prince, and 
 of a disreputable priesthood. 
 
 The time was evening, that time when the vicious
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 125 
 
 awaken, when thieves come forth to do their malevo 
 lent work, when the denizens of the dark " other 
 half " ply their trades of crime and licentiousness. 
 The man dining was busy at his newspaper, as he 
 waited for his dinner, stopping from time to time 
 to taste the food or sip the wine before him. The 
 paper he was reading had an American title, so it 
 was easy to guess that few men would read a 
 French publication of an American journal without 
 being an American himself. 
 
 As he ate he occasionally lowered his paper and 
 looked about him. Then it might be observed that 
 he was a little past forty years perhaps, a man 
 noble to look upon, yet a man of the world, one 
 who had seen things and knew them by their right 
 names. His hair had been formerly black, but was 
 now streaked with gray. Did I say he was noble? 
 Yes, his well-preserved person, his large frame and 
 his broad shoulders and high forehead were good to 
 look upon. His expression about the eyes and 
 mouth, however, to a close observer, would belie the 
 outward marks as described, for those eyes were 
 hard and shifting, that mouth was uncompromis 
 ingly selfish and cruel. As you observed him closely, 
 you came to believe him a man who lived but for 
 himself, a man without generosity, or even kindness 
 in his nature. 
 
 All at once he became engrossed in some article
 
 126 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 before him. He read and re-read it. While he 
 was so engaged, he failed to notice what took place 
 before him, failed to see a woman of nearly his own 
 age come by, look him over curiously, walk past, 
 came back again, observe him and finally seat her 
 self at his table and opposite him. Nor did he ob 
 serve her take up the menu, ordering from it a 
 dinner, including a bottle of wine. A laughable 
 thought seemed to strike her, a joke as it were. 
 Again motioning the waiter, in an undertone she 
 told him to charge her dinner to him who was 
 opposite her. The waiter seemed at first dum- 
 founded, but the smiles and good will of the w r oman 
 prevailed, and he did as he was directed. The man 
 was so interested that for some time he was 
 oblivious of what transpired about him. At last 
 he ejaculated, "The Devil! He is dead. I feared 
 none but him." 
 
 The woman made a curious motion with one 
 hand. He seemed resentful of her presence. 
 
 " Did my words sound like profanity, mademoi 
 selle? " he said. " They were not, I assure you." 
 
 " Nay," she said, " I know they were not profane, 
 yet I made the token of his most Satanic Majesty, 
 the Devil." 
 
 "The Devil, you say; are you right-minded, 
 mademoiselle? " 
 
 " Perfectly."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 127 
 
 " Funny," he said, " I utter the name of the 
 Devil, in which most all of the civilized world be 
 lieves, and you make a sign that you claim is a 
 token of the Devil. Indeed it is strange. You in 
 terest me. Your sign looked to me to be following 
 the lines of the forked tail of the Devil." 
 
 " Exactly," said she, " that was it." 
 
 " And you, a woman, dare do this ; you a woman 
 who should be better than a man? A woman, too, 
 more often believes in God than a man." 
 
 " Do you believe in God ? " she suddenly asked. 
 
 " Why, yes. I suppose so," he said. " Why 
 shouldn t I ? I was reared that way, yet had I been 
 born an Indian I suppose the Great Waconda 
 would have answered my purpose just as Mo 
 hammed would have answered it had I been born 
 in that faith. 
 
 " That s it," she said, " any Deity will do, I sup 
 pose. Why not worship the Devil then ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I see the force of your argument. 
 Yes, why not? Merely because my training has 
 been along different lines, not that I worship God, 
 for I never think of him in that light. Yet, let us 
 change the subject. Who are you that you thus 
 thrust yourself upon me and order at my expense? " 
 This he said smilingly. 
 
 She laughed. " As an old friend I thought I 
 might take the liberty of playing a certain trick
 
 128 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 upon you, that of ordering at your expense, a trick 
 of the girls off the street, you know." 
 
 " Yes," he said. " I know the trick. Ordinarily 
 I resent it, but your talk about that friend of yours, 
 the Devil, interested me, so I protest not. But, 
 mademoiselle, there is something about you that 
 suggests we have met before. Yet I cannot place 
 you, but from the past there is an echo of famil 
 iarity. I am sure I have seen you before. You are 
 French? Yet you speak English perfectly with 
 scarcely any accent. I am an American. I could 
 almost think you were." 
 
 " No, I am French, as you said first." 
 
 " You said as an old friend you took the liberties 
 you did with me. Tell me, have we met before?" 
 
 " Yes, we have met before." 
 
 " When ? Tell me at once." 
 
 " In America." 
 
 " In America ? You are jesting. Yet perhaps tis 
 so. Let me look you over." And he scrutinized 
 her closely. " In America? I just read an Ameri 
 can paper here. I learned of the death of an old 
 employer of mine, a friend, I was going to say, 
 yet he wouldn t so.state it, were it for him to state." 
 
 " No ? " she said inquiringly as if to draw him 
 out. 
 
 " No," he repeated. " I knew too much about him 
 to have him still call me his friend. No one looks
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 129 
 
 upon you as his friend when he knows you possess 
 knowledge detrimental to him. His suspicions that 
 you may tell on him destroy his love for you." 
 
 " Oh I don t know, should I know things about 
 you that it would not do to uncover would you not 
 call me still a friend?" 
 
 " By the rule just spoken, no." 
 
 "Well," she replied, "if. you knew things about 
 me equally incriminating would we not be friends 
 then?" 
 
 " Friends in need are friends indeed," evasively 
 he repeated. 
 
 " Just so," she said, " we should be friends." 
 
 " What do you mean, woman ? Who are you any 
 way?" 
 
 " I mean that by the rule on which we both 
 agreed we should be friends. As to who I am, 
 when I say that by that rule we should be friends, 
 do you not know me ? " 
 
 " Which means that in something we are both 
 implicated. Let me see." Again he closely looked 
 into her face. Momentarily was all. He extended 
 his hand. " Mile. Sara Le Blanc," he said. 
 
 " Mr. Herbert Durand," she said, " I am Sara 
 Le Blanc, or she who was Sara Le Blanc, but no 
 longer known by that name. To-day I am Mile. 
 Ullith, if you please High Priestess of the Society 
 in France of the Luciferians." 
 9
 
 130 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Luciferians," he said, " the Devil ! " 
 
 " That is it," she said, as she again made the sign 
 of the forked tail. " We are called Devil Wor 
 shippers. 
 
 " The Devil," he again said, " woman, are you 
 crazy? The Devil. Luciferians? Devil Wor 
 shippers. What does that mean?" 
 
 Again she made the sign of the barbed tail at his 
 profanation of the name. 
 
 " Exactly as I have told you. I am the High 
 Priestess." 
 
 " The she-devil," he said laughingly. 
 
 " Well, yes," she assented. 
 
 He looked her over. " The job pays well," he 
 said as he noted her fine clothes. 
 
 " Oh, yes, or I wouldn t do it." 
 
 " Who pays for the fine feathers ? " he asked. 
 " The old Devil I suppose." 
 
 " No, a friend." 
 
 " Ah, I see, he s a Luciferian too." 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Where do you live? " he asked. 
 
 " In a street close by the temple of Satan. Come 
 and see me some time when he is not in," as she 
 handed her card to him." 
 
 "Who? The Devil?" 
 
 " No, the man who pays for the clothes." 
 
 Durand looked at her curiously. At last he un-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 131 
 
 derstood. Time was when he would have resented 
 that invitation. Yet now after these fifteen years 
 that had passed since the former meeting with the 
 woman, he had tasted the flesh-pots of Egypt and he 
 promised to come. The time she fixed. 
 
 "Who was your friend who has died?" she 
 asked as they were on their second bottle of wine. 
 
 " Charles Graham," he answered, " president of 
 
 Bank. You may never have heard his name 
 
 when in America. It was there I worked. It was 
 there the funds of mine were deposited." 
 
 " Yours ? " she asked playfully. " Yours ? " 
 
 " Yes, mine," he said. " At least now." 
 
 " And by my act too," she answered. 
 
 " Yes, you did me a good turn, I will admit, 
 a good turn. You were well paid." 
 
 " Well paid ? That went long ago. It is all 
 gone," she said. 
 
 Your own fault. Evidently this Devil business 
 of yours is expensive." 
 
 " No, not exactly, but one has to live. Besides 
 I have not been the High Priestess for a great 
 while. My money was gone before I was a High 
 Priestess. 
 
 " And you," she asked. " How have you squan 
 dered yours?" 
 
 " I have it yet," as he closed his teeth tightly.
 
 132 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Yes," and her face lighted up. " Yes, you have 
 it yet." 
 
 "You bet," he returned. "Why not? Why 
 should I spend it or give it away?" 
 
 " Yes, why," she echoed, as she took on a far 
 away look. 
 
 " Strange isn t it," he said, " that I should not 
 have known you ? " 
 
 She smiled. " I was then only an ordinary in 
 dividual, now I am a High Priestess I tell you, so 
 it is not so strange." 
 
 " But that hair. I should have known it in 
 Africa," as he glanced at her blonde locks. 
 
 " Or Hades," she said. 
 
 " Woman, why these hellish and devilish infer 
 ences ? " 
 
 " I am a member, etc., you know." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know. Any way your hair with its 
 peculiar phosphorescent glow is suggestive of all 
 you claim," he laughed. " Any one by that should 
 know you were an imp of earth if not of darkness." 
 
 She interrupted him suddenly. " \Vhat of little 
 Olive? I almost loved the child. Where is she?" 
 
 " In the convent of the Holy Apostles yet, I sup 
 pose." 
 
 " Oh, no," she said, " why, man, she is a woman 
 now; she has long since left there unless she is a 
 nun."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 133 
 
 "A woman," did you say. "A woman?" 
 
 " Why, yes, that was fifteen years ago, you re 
 member. Fifteen years during which you and I 
 have grown old." 
 
 " You don t show it," he said. " You don t look 
 a day older than when I saw you last. I have 
 grown old. See my hair is gray. What has kept 
 you young? " 
 
 " My habits and religion," she answered. 
 
 " Tell me," he said, " tell me of the Satanists, 
 they who worship the Devil. What about them? 
 Who are the Devil Worshippers? What do they 
 believe ? " 
 
 They believe not in a God and perhaps not in 
 the Devil either, but to show their disbelief in God 
 they worship the Devil. Another time," she said, 
 " and you shall know all. Aye, you may be made 
 acquainted when you call." 
 
 She arose to go. 
 
 " He will be home before long, I must precede 
 him," she said. 
 
 " He? Ah, yes," he said, " so he will." 
 
 " Good night," and she extended her hand. 
 
 " Good night," and he grasped it with far more 
 pressure than he had done when they last met.
 
 134 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 X FEW days later, prompted by the invitation of 
 Mile. Sara or Lillith, as the Luciferians had named 
 her, Durand called upon her at the address she had 
 given. Her declaration that she lived close by 
 the Temple of Satan had passed unnoticed by him 
 at the time. Nor did he know of its existence be 
 fore, but as he came to the vicinity of the address, 
 he remembered the allusion to this temple. He 
 looked about the street up and down as if expecting 
 to see a building whose architecture was imposing 
 or suggestive of a temple. None was in sight. He 
 walked on a little further and came to the address 
 he sought. 
 
 He sounded the knocker and was ushered in by a 
 low-bowing servant. The house was of large di 
 mensions. Its exterior was not imposing, being 
 only about the ordinary, but the interior struck him 
 differently. The reception room into which he was 
 invited was richly furnished. Rich paintings and 
 draperies ornamented the walls. The antique fur 
 niture was impressive. The Persian rugs were mar-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 135 
 
 velous in design and pattern. He noticed these 
 things quickly, and was no sooner seated than a 
 voice he recognized said softly behind him : 
 
 " So you deigned to call on me, did you ? I be 
 gan to think you had forgotten." 
 
 Durand turned and looked up at the woman. Her 
 hair was arranged in a most rakish fashion. Knots 
 and ripples of the beautiful yellow hair vied with 
 one another in fantastic arrangement. Jewels 
 placed here and there enhanced the brilliancy of both 
 hair and jewels. Durand noticed the freshness of 
 her complexion, the skin with its fresh brilliancy, 
 the large nose that added strength to the face. Be 
 fore he spoke, he noted these things, even to the 
 brocaded loose flowing house gown she wore. 
 While he looked upon her, her small slippered foot 
 protruding from under the folds of the gown 
 stamped the floor twice as if she would that he 
 speak. 
 
 Finally he said, "Forget you, Mademoiselle? 
 No, never. Besides I do not desire to." 
 
 " Thanks," she said, " a compliment in that I 
 suppose? " 
 
 " True, a compliment well deserved." 
 
 " Be seated ; let us talk." 
 
 " Yes, let us talk, but I would be contented to 
 sit and look upon you, even if you forbid me 
 to speak."
 
 136 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Again she smiled and bowed. " Aye, you men 
 are always complimentary." 
 
 " But I mean it. I am sorry I disappointed you 
 in not coming sooner." 
 
 " I was afraid some other woman had consumed 
 your time." 
 
 " No," he said, " there is no other she. At least 
 not now." 
 
 " I am glad," she said simply. 
 
 "And I," he added. 
 
 " Aren t we getting on well ? When I knew 
 you before, we never exchanged as many words out 
 side of our business details as we did the other 
 night." 
 
 " Why not," he asked, " why not be acquainted 
 now? Then I was engrossed with other affairs. 
 Now I have time to be entertaining. Besides I have 
 traveled much, and having seen the world, I care 
 more for society than I did " 
 
 You have changed indeed. Then you were 
 cold, oh, so cold." She shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I was, but I have seen more of 
 the world and am different I tell you." 
 
 " Let us change the subject. The other night I 
 did not ask you of yourself. Tell me, how have 
 you fared ? " 
 
 "Well," said Durand. "If I have not fared
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 137 
 
 well, it is my own fault. I could afford to fare 
 well, you know." 
 
 She looked at him closely as she thought, " He 
 has lost the discretion that was such a factor in 
 his make-up." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " you have money enough I 
 dare say." 
 
 " And with it I have seen things and enjoyed 
 life." 
 
 " Tell me about it," she said. 
 
 He then threw off his reserve and told her ol 
 travels, practically around the world; spoke of this 
 thing and that thing he had seen, and being a good 
 narrator it was not uninteresting to her. Finally 
 his story ended " Ten years ago I came here. I 
 am here yet. There is no other place like Paris. 
 Here I will stay forever," he finished. 
 
 " Well said, Mr. Durand, well said. This is the 
 Mecca of the Bohemian world as well as the Mecca 
 for all other classes. You and I are Bohemian 
 and will so remain. Strange that you and I have 
 wandered the streets of the same city for ten years 
 without our pathways crossing." 
 
 " Fate may have decreed otherwise," he said, 
 " Fate or the Devil." 
 
 She again made that peculiar motion with her 
 hand, the outline of the barbed tail.
 
 138 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Well," she added, " Fate cruel once, is kind 
 , again, I am sure. You are glad to see me? " 
 
 " Indeed I am." 
 
 Her face glowed. 
 
 "But of yourself?" he asked. "You have told 
 me little." 
 
 " There is little to tell. Soon after we parted 
 in America I came here. For a time I was in the 
 ballet at La Grande Theatre. Then I met M. Divan, 
 and then I came here. This is his house." 
 
 " M. Divan," he asked, " not Commissionaire of 
 Bank?" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Lucky woman," he said. 
 
 She continued. " This is his house. I am his 
 mistress. He and I are inseparable." 
 
 " But does he not object to your receiving vis 
 itors?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, but how will he know ? I won t tell 
 him. The servants do not talk. Sometimes I go 
 out and walk the street of an evening, that is, when 
 he is out for the evening, as he ofttimes is, as I did 
 when I saw you. But he never knows. Ah, no, he 
 never knows. If he did, Oh my! he is so jealous, 
 so jealous." 
 
 "But you invited me here?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I shall tell him of you later, but not 
 of your visit. He knows I was in America. We
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 139 
 
 can meet by accident you know. After that I will 
 tell him of you." 
 
 " Is he a Devil follower too ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, he made me one. He is surely one 
 deep dyed. He is the Zoroaster of our cult. 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 " The Zoroaster. You do not understand. The 
 officers are all named after some devil or noted 
 figure in mystic ceremonies. These names are for 
 some noted patron devil, some noted figure of 
 mystic ceremonies of the middle ages which our 
 art and tradition says existed when the world was 
 young and the Devil ruled universally. Zoroaster 
 was a fire-worshipper." 
 
 " Nonsense," he ejaculated, " no facts in any of 
 this." 
 
 She smiled on him. " So, M. Divan is the 
 Zoroaster, in imitation of one who it is said, was 
 the Devil s before he was born, and sprang into the 
 world full grown that he might defend his mother." 
 
 " I am interested," he said, " and in this cult 
 you are Lillith. Why not Hebe or Minerva." 
 
 She laughed. " Lillith was of our faith and I 
 am she personified." 
 
 " Were not Lillith and Zoroaster, as you called 
 him, of the flesh?" 
 
 " Ah, no, not now, they are Spirit devils from 
 the world below."
 
 142 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 He took it, and bending low kissed her hand. 
 She did not object. 
 
 " Good night," he said, and withdrew. As he 
 walked out he noticed that the perfume of her hand 
 had scented his lips.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 143 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE Cafe De Noir was ablaze with light that, 
 scintillating from the thousand gems of its patrons, 
 transformed it to a scene of resplendent beauty. 
 From without one beheld, beside its most orna 
 mental furnishings of cut glass, silver, onyx and 
 spotless linen, beautiful women who were the travel 
 ing exemplification of the modiste s sincere, exquisite 
 workmanship. Shapely shoulders and throats were 
 visible above the low corsage, frills and creations of 
 knots and flounces below. The men in evening 
 dress paid compliments to their feminine friends 
 as dexterously as only a Frenchman can handle such 
 heroics. In America or England the matter of 
 dispensing complimentary sayings is handled care 
 fully lest offence might follow. In Paris it is dif 
 ferent. Femininity expect it; nay, they exact it. 
 
 It was near the hour of midnight. The theatres 
 were discharging their audiences. Society would 
 now dine. The Cafe De Noir was fast filling. 
 People filed in rapidly, taking the remaining seats, 
 few in number, for this fashionable place was never 
 short of patrons. Many of the late comers looked
 
 i 4 4 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 disappointed as they saw the tables filled and were 
 told they could not be accommodated. Plenty of 
 these belated diners looked and pointed their fingers 
 appealingly at an empty, spacious table, to be told 
 by the manager that it was reserved. Other guests 
 already present noted this, and found themselves 
 speculating as to who the distinguished party was 
 that would dine there. 
 
 Amid the tinkling of silver, the chatter of French, 
 an invisible orchestra, hidden in a balcony behind 
 portieres at the side, began playing lively airs. The 
 clatter of dishes and tones was hushed by the pre 
 dominating orchestral tones. Finding themselves 
 unheard the diners temporarily hushed their voices, 
 waiting for a lull in the music. 
 
 But before the resumption of conversation had 
 taken place, near the main entrance a slight commo 
 tion caused the eyes of all to turn in that direction. 
 
 A party of four entered, two women and two 
 men. First came a medium sized, elegantly gowned 
 woman in a creation of old gold and white lace. 
 She needs no introduction. It was Mile. Sara Le 
 Blanc; now Mile. Lillith by reason of a second 
 christening. She never looked more fair and fresh. 
 Truly this woman fifteen years before must have 
 been at least thirty. To-day she looked no older 
 than at that time. Her alert walk, her young man 
 ner conveyed, to those who had known her long, the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 145 
 
 impression that she possessed the secret of perpet 
 ual youth. 
 
 Following her was a man of great height and 
 fine figure. His handsome face was large and of 
 noble features, impressing one with his importance 
 and mental weight. His evening clothes set off 
 his figure well. He may have been fifty, but save 
 for a few gray hairs in the black locks and pointed 
 beard you would not have guessed him so old. In 
 spite of his noble features and his grand mien there 
 was that about him which was not altogether reas 
 suring. A certain self-importance that great men 
 avoid aroused one s suspicions, while on close inspec 
 tion the mouth revealed cruelty. Those who have 
 tasted the forbidden things of life have this look. 
 Yet his apparel was genteel and rich. Such was 
 M. Divan, or as Mile. Sara introduced him by his 
 Satanic name, Zoroaster. 
 
 The pair following and who completed the party, 
 were an oddly assorted couple. A large, coarse 
 woman, whose flabby shaking body danced as she 
 walked, came first. She was truly a possessor of 
 avoirdupois, if her face revealed but little character. 
 She looked mammoth to the point of vulgarity. 
 Her face, her mouth, large and thick lips, her heavy, 
 besotted eyes spoke plainly of excesses and much 
 wine. Her clothes were expensive, yet ill fitting. 
 Her dark hair, slightly gray, was really her one 
 10
 
 146 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 point of beauty. The eyes, heavy-lidded and red, 
 were in harmony with the rest of her make-up, save 
 the hair. Her male escort was a small, light man 
 of unpleasant aspect. His scant light hair was un 
 tidy and bristled about his head. His full beard 
 was, in wiriness, twin brother to the hair. He had 
 an alert manner, a keen eye, a savage, acutely pointed 
 nose. His whole natural facial equipment would 
 invite mistrust of his motives, veracity and sin 
 cerity. 
 
 The party made their way to the one vacant 
 table and under the surveillance of many eyes were 
 seated by the urbane waiter. Their orders were 
 quickly given, and they then turned their attention 
 to gazing about the room. The eyes of the whole 
 party swept the entire cafe, nodding here and there 
 to people whom each knew, a smile sent to one, a 
 little half hand wave to another. 
 
 The observation of all except Mile. Sara had 
 been casual as if they expected to view none in par 
 ticular and were pleased to see all, or that they 
 were merely being courteous to those about them. 
 Mile. Sara, however, swept the room with any 
 thing but a casual glance. Her gaze carried with it 
 both interest and desire, interest that it could not 
 disguise and desire that was pronounced. 
 
 She had invited Durand to be there that she 
 might by accident spy him, and after planning out
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 147 
 
 the way it would be done, she hoped he had not 
 disappointed her. 
 
 M. Divan and Mile. Sara sat facing the front 
 of the place, their seats from the vantage point of 
 observation were the best. Mile. Sara had swept 
 into her seat by reason of quick discernment of the 
 advantage it offered and M. Divan had followed. 
 
 At the end of the first scrutinizing of the room, 
 a frown wrinkled that forehead of pink and white. 
 She lowered her head and flushed slightly in her 
 disappointment. A moment later she again cast her 
 eyes to the circle about her. This time she was 
 successful in seeing whom she sought. Seated at 
 an individual table, only a short space from them 
 was Durand. He sat looking at her even as she 
 looked at him. The frown on her face was effaced 
 by a slight smile, but other than this she gave him 
 no evidence that she saw him. 
 
 She turned to M. Divan. " Do you see this 
 gentleman directly in front, the one dining alone? " 
 
 "Yes. Why?" as he looked at her closely. 
 
 " Nothing, only I am sure I know him." 
 
 Divan was always jealous of his mistress and he 
 turned and looked into her face. Unperturbed, she 
 glanced back at him. 
 
 " You knew him," he asked, " when and where? " 
 
 " In America." 
 
 "Another beastly American, eh?"
 
 148 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " No, he is a gentleman. I shall look at him 
 again and if it is Mr. Herbert Durand of New 
 York, as I suspect, I will nod at him." 
 
 " Why should you want to know him now ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 The other couple looked on and raised their eye 
 brows and smiled at one another. These petty 
 jealousies of M. Divan evidently were not new, 
 nor was it new that Mile. Sara sometimes gave 
 him reason for his jealousy. 
 
 To this last she made no reply, but kept her eyes 
 on the supposed stranger. Divan watched her 
 closely; saw the man she had spoken of as Durand 
 look towards her, saw them both smile and bow, 
 with the result that Durand arose and made his way 
 to them. 
 
 Since Durand had left New York fifteen years be 
 fore, as we have said, he had wandered throughout 
 the world alone. You might ask, "did he not have 
 a conscience that reminded him of the past and those 
 he had wronged ? " No, he did not. Believing the 
 ends justified the means, that his own personal 
 wants and desires and comforts were of greater 
 consequence than wealth could be to a mere child, 
 he thought of her seldom, and then only in wonder 
 ment as to her condition and whereabouts. 
 
 He had lived modestly since the time he had 
 started out to see the world. His manner of living
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 149 
 
 could not and did not nearly spend the income from 
 the fortune. His habits had undergone little change 
 during these years of opulence. In some ways he 
 may have been more careless of his expenditures, 
 but on the whole, for one with means he was frugal. 
 While never a woman hater, yet he had never con 
 sidered any woman in the light of love. 
 
 Since his stay in Paris, he had one or two enam 
 ored experiences, but they were transient. The 
 thought of a wife with a home to preside over was 
 foreign to him before, yet after seeing the way 
 M. Divan had installed Mademoiselle Sara he won 
 dered if it were not a proper and good thing to do. 
 Before he had not noticed the charms of Mile. Sara. 
 Now he did, and dwelt on them in his own thoughts. 
 He recalled how anxious she seemed that they meet 
 again, and how she had allowed him to caress and 
 kiss her hand in parting. For once in his life he 
 was dazzled by a female form. The manner of her 
 existence, Bohemian though it was, pleased him. 
 He thought of this beautiful woman presiding in 
 her beautiful home, of the dining out, of her fine 
 raiment and jewels. He had lived within himself 
 and it was now a new gaze upon things ephemeral 
 and dazzling, and he was dazed. Though his in 
 sight into these things was slight, yet in them he saw 
 possibilities, and he longed to be and feel as Mile. 
 Sara was and felt in the circle in which she moved.
 
 150 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 In his wanderings he had met with few friends, 
 and he welcomed the opportunities which his ac 
 quaintance with her would bring. To the Devil 
 Worshippers he had given little thought. He was 
 never before aware of their existence. He was 
 not surprised that, among the increasing sects that 
 the age produced who worship a deity of their own 
 understanding and manufacture, there should be 
 some so sacrilegious as to worship the one who, 
 since his beguilement of the mother parent of the 
 race, had stood as a symbol for evil. For years 
 he had been in Paris without making any acquaint 
 ances, but he did not consider himself an outcast, 
 though he had not thought nor desired to return 
 to the land of his birth. Nor was he discontented 
 to any extent. While of late years he had felt a 
 longing for congenial acquaintances, yet this desire 
 had, save for the two affairs with women, led him 
 into no ways of extravagance or extensive evil. 
 When the opportunity offered by his acquaintance 
 with Mile. Sara came up, he eagerly seized upon 
 it as a means to the end he longed for. He cared 
 nothing as to whom she might worship. 
 
 To him now she was a commandatory figure. 
 He never for a moment doubted that she was rep 
 resentative of the proper classes in Paris. His 
 conception of morality was not alone responsible 
 for this, although the conception was warped and
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 151 
 
 of a low type, but his conception of the standards 
 of the city s society was responsible. Besides he 
 had developed a liking for her that was new, and 
 he thought well of it. This liking for her con 
 veyed to him nothing in the nature of love. Yet 
 had she had the same feeling he would have posed as 
 her lover. 
 
 He was eager for the night following his visit, 
 the night he would meet her lover and friends, 
 meet them and perhaps attach himself to a society 
 that he knew must be in keeping with their lives and 
 its name, with the end in view of being near her. 
 
 He had come to the Cafe De Noir early, preceding 
 the party mentioned by a half hour, omitting the 
 theatre that he might not be behind time. He saw 
 Sara glance about in quest of him. He lost no time 
 in answering her bow and made his way to the 
 table. Mile. Sara arose and greeted him. 
 
 " A great pleasure. A great pleasure, I am 
 most certain," she said. " I am delighted to meet 
 you." 
 
 " Yes," he returned, " and I to meet you again 
 after so long, yet we recognized each other at 
 once." 
 
 "Do you speak French?" she asked. "If so, I 
 will introduce you to my friends who do not speak 
 English."
 
 152 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " My French is not so good," he said, " yet 
 in ten years I have tried to acquire the language." 
 
 Then she introduced him to her friends the La 
 Montas. She continued, " and M. Divan, my lord 
 and liege," this unblushingly. 
 
 The gentlemen shook hands and murmured proper 
 greetings. 
 
 " You must dine with us," said Sara. " You have 
 not been served as yet. We will have your chair 
 transferred here." 
 
 Throughout the dinner, Mile. Sara kept up such a 
 merry chatter of French that Divan himself, who 
 had frowned on Durand at first, finally lost his 
 moroseness and joined in the convivialities. Mile. 
 Sara refrained from mentioning any of the par 
 ticulars of the time she had known Durand be 
 fore, excepting to state that he was a theatrical 
 manager, and Durand acquiesced in this. Not that 
 he cared to keep the reason of their first acquaint 
 ance a secret, but she had this object in view, and 
 why should he not assist her. 
 
 He had wondered how the adroit Sara would 
 mention him as a prospective member of the order 
 of Satan. He wondered if these La Montas were 
 not of the order. He resolved to find out. Pur 
 posely he would profane the one they called deity. 
 His glass tipped slightly as he raised it to his lips; 
 the red wine flowed upon the cloth. All supposed
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 153 
 
 it to be accidental save himself. " Diable ! " he said. 
 The quartette made the barbed tail sign in unison. 
 They are all the same, he thought to himself, and 
 they do not care who knows it. 
 
 The conversation lagged for a short time after 
 this. Mile. Sara came into the breach. 
 
 " You are in Paris to stay? " 
 
 " Yes. In fact I know not when I go away. I 
 shall go as soon as a so far fruitless search is com 
 pleted." 
 
 "Yes?" she said inquiringly. 
 
 " Yes," he continued boldly, " as a young man I 
 took great interest in certain things that, though 
 veiled to me, yet held out a most subtle fascination, 
 a fascination that has grown upon me. Paris, I was 
 told and yet believe, is the center of this sect, yet so 
 far all clue to the identity of what I seek has es 
 caped me." 
 
 The quartet seeing something mysterious in his 
 suggestion leaned forward eagerly and caught the 
 words as they fell from the lips of this master con 
 jurer of deceptive syllables. 
 
 Noticing the interest his words created, he con 
 tinued. " Things mysterious held for me always 
 a charm. Theosophy, Egyptology and mesmeric 
 effects I court ; yet I seek things even more mys 
 terious, more daring."
 
 154 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 As if by prearrangement he stopped and looked 
 at Mile. Sara. 
 
 Her lips parted in answer to his look, and for a 
 brief interval there was silence. Then she inquired, 
 "What is it that so interests you, M. Durand? 
 One would think some strange creature had you in 
 its power, some woman in fact." 
 
 " No," he said. " It is not a woman I seek." 
 
 " Pray tell then. Something more interesting 
 than a woman? What can it be? " 
 
 " I may shock you all," he declared, " yet that 
 which I seek is in line with my belief and my life. 
 I seek those who are called Devil Worshippers."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 155 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE balance of the dinner passed by agreeably 
 to Durand and Sara. The quartet had been sur 
 prised, excepting Mile. Sara, at the announcement 
 by Durand of the things of which he was in quest. 
 
 She had helped matters along by requesting in a 
 whisper to Divan to talk with Durand about his 
 opinions and aspirations regarding the Satanites. 
 Divan had found that Durand knew something of 
 their w r ays, and seeing in him a prospective sup 
 porter in precept and by financial aid to the order, 
 had disclosed to him the fact that his Mecca had 
 been reached, and told him that those before him 
 were in truth Devil Worshippers. Divan grew 
 more interested. The antipathy he had felt a short 
 time before, when he looked upon Durand as a 
 previous lover of Mile. Sara or a prospective rival 
 of his, w r as at once dispelled. 
 
 A conference of the four was held, of which 
 Dnrand was a witness, and in the end he was told 
 that his presence as a member would be highly 
 pleasing to all concerned, but certain formalities
 
 156 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 must first be observed before he might join. Du- 
 rand replied that his desire to join was great, yet he 
 could and would of course wait for the observances 
 of the society s red tape. 
 
 Mile. Sara was anxious to court the society of 
 her friend and for this reason, while she was per 
 haps enjoying life, yet at times she grew tired of 
 her official duties as high priestess. The formalities 
 alone were irksome and furnished her little enjoy 
 ment. M. Divan besides was exacting and jealous. 
 At times she longed for her former freedom and 
 even thought that this freedom was worth more 
 perhaps than was her home and those things dear 
 to her heart, her rich clothes and many jewels. 
 
 In the coming of Durand she had experienced a 
 new desire. She thought him to be one who would 
 expect less from her than did M. Divan, and she 
 courted his favor and presence, hoping that his 
 wealth and more congenial presence some day might 
 be hers to enjoy. She had even flattered herself 
 that he thought of this matter much the same as 
 she. Now she looked forward to a time when she 
 should cast aside the astute and boorish Divan and 
 bask in the perpetual good will and graces of a 
 lover who would be less jealous and more lavish. 
 As she thought of Divan s methods towards her, 
 his watchfulness lest other men might see and ad 
 mire her, of her worriment lest he might discover
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 157 
 
 her plan of going out in the evening when business 
 detained or attracted him away from her, her heart 
 grew cold, especially as she measured him against 
 Durand. She had hints of misgiving as to Durand s 
 reception when Divan and the others should meet 
 him, and had been very much astonished when he 
 had boldly declared his quest for the Devil Wor 
 shippers. She had abetted every effort made in 
 the preliminaries incidental to his affiliation. 
 
 His name was, of course, proposed and balloted 
 upon. As a former friend she had stood as sponsor 
 as to his fitness. She had prior to this time taken 
 it upon herself, unbeknown to M. Divan of course, 
 to do a little canvassing in Durand s favor, not 
 openly but a word here and there among the mem 
 bers and had had the desired effect, his name had 
 gone through and without opposition and he was 
 duly elected. \Vith a casualness that was subtle she 
 had mentioned the fact of his great wealth. That 
 alone was assurance that the final vote would be 
 favorable. The society was in far from straitened 
 circumstances, yet they seldom passed by an oppor 
 tunity of acquiring members who possessed money. 
 
 M. Divan had not invited Durand to call, nor did 
 Durand think strange of that. He had noticed 
 the distrust with which Divan first looked upon 
 him, and knew of the jealousy that he could not 
 disguise. Besides, he thought, Divan may not
 
 158 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 have cared to invite others to his home, they know 
 ing of the relations "that existed there. 
 
 This, however, did not prevent his calling upon 
 Sara as he had done twice in the week following 
 the dinner at the Cafe De Noir. At these times he 
 had been most cordially received. Mile. Sara had 
 allowed him to sit and hold her hand as he told 
 her of his wanderings here and there. He was a 
 master entertainer when he chose, yet one who 
 had had little opportunity to develop this ability. 
 
 The first time he had called objectively to return 
 the ritual of the Satanists that she had loaned 
 him, a ritual that he had assiduously read and 
 stored many of its facts away in his brain and 
 used them successfully when he was trying to 
 establish himself in the eyes of the quartet. 
 
 Mile. Sara had given him many points as to the 
 methods employed by them in their worship and 
 initiation. She had told him none knew, except the 
 council of demons, just when he was to be initiated, 
 but he would be notified one day beforehand. On 
 the second visit, the mademoiselle had inquired why 
 his desire to join. He had promptly replied, " To 
 be with you." She had smiled and assured him that 
 this feeling was mutual. This exchange of assur 
 ances had, to both, seemed satisfying, and what 
 they had desired. 
 
 As they looked from the window and toward the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 159 
 
 Temple of Satan, he had inquired about the size of 
 its interior as only the front was visible, and was 
 told that it consisted of a grand and very large 
 drawing-room opening off the main entrance, back 
 of w hich was the Temple of Hades, in which the 
 society performed its rites and initiated its novi 
 tiates. Then a banqueting hall back of this with 
 ante-rooms completed the scheme. Durand saw 
 from the exterior that the house was large and 
 wondered not that it contained so much room. 
 
 " But," added the Mademoiselle, " you will soon 
 explore it and then you will know as much about it 
 and its mysteries as I." 
 
 " Yes," he said, " but I care not as much about 
 the temple or its secrets as about you." 
 
 You may come to see me often," she said with 
 a fascinating smile.
 
 160 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DURAND, in a day or so, received the notice lie 
 looked for to present himself at the temple. On 
 the night named he did so, and after being duly 
 scrutinized and questioned at the door, lest unbe 
 lievers or enemies prompted by curiosity gain ad 
 mittance, he was allowed to enter. 
 
 The reception room of the temple was furnished 
 as any large room of its like might be furnished. A 
 polished floor, with rugs under foot and chairs 
 about the room, with tables and pictures completed 
 its appointments. Durand here was introduced to 
 many of the four score of people present, all well 
 dressed and seemingly representative. Those he 
 met were called by their Christian names, yet 
 Divan, who at Mile. Sara s instigation was doing 
 the introducing, took some pains that the names 
 by which the society knew them, were affixed and 
 distinctly pronounced. Durand knew them to be 
 the officers of the society. He heard affixed to 
 French names such titles as Adreth, Pluto, Vulcan, 
 Zeus and others. " Rechristening of patron imps " 
 was his mental comment. M. La Monta, whom he
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 161 
 
 had met before, he now learned was the presiding 
 officer and termed Beelzebub. He commented to 
 himself, " Well he looks it." 
 
 Mile. Sara or Lillith was there of course, look 
 ing resplendent in a beautiful gown of blue and 
 gold. From the ritual he had learned that Lillith 
 was she who was to become the Devil s bride, 
 Moving about she appeared to be the life and the 
 wit of the Assembly. Durand asked himself, " Can 
 it be that this woman can be so welcome here." Al 
 though he admired her, he thought strange her 
 popularity. He was not a moral philosopher, yet 
 he could not refrain from the thought, " Oh, Paris, 
 the rumors concerning your moral standards have 
 not been exaggerated ! " 
 
 The brief time in the reception room was merely 
 formal and for introduction. The few who had 
 been saluted with diabolical titles soon withdrew 
 to prepare the further proceedings, and the balance 
 of the party shortly after also withdrew through 
 the same door, that before Durand had thought to 
 be a mere panel in the decorations. But he saw it 
 opened to a touch administered in the right spot, 
 and as the company filed through it he was able 
 to get a glimpse of what was concealed behind its 
 portals. A flickering light that waxed bright and 
 waned alternately, assisted him in his view. He 
 beheld one visible corner that contained a few paint- 
 1 1
 
 1 62 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 ings on the wall above, and a leather-covered settee. 
 This v/as all he saw. 
 
 All had passed through the door, leaving him 
 alone, with the exception of one man, whom he 
 took to be his attendant for the further ceremonies. 
 A delay of a half hour followed, and Durand rightly 
 supposed that those inside were preparing the af 
 fairs of the forthcoming initiation. 
 
 Finally a robe was cast about his shoulders by 
 his attendant, a signal that his part in the cere 
 monies would commence. Whatever may have 
 been the modus operandi of the founders of the 
 order as to procedure in initiation cannot be said, 
 for its founder s place in history is so far back as 
 to give room for much uncertainty, but these 
 modern proclaimers of the ascendency of the Devil 
 had modernized it, and its proceedings were not 
 entirely unlike many initiatory services of contem 
 porary orders, excepting the hellish symbols and 
 Satanic references. 
 
 Durand heard the scampering of many feet and 
 a blood-curdling noise like unto wails from the 
 lost in torment coming from the inside, and imme 
 diately his attendant made a similar noise. At this 
 commencement of the proceedings, it can be truly 
 said that Durand v/as more amused than frightened, 
 as he held his robe from the floor lest he should 
 trip, and followed the other inside.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 163 
 
 The door closed quickly behind him and a voice 
 coming from whence, by reason of the dim light 
 he could not discern, in a loud tone belched forth 
 the words that Dante s imagination pictured as 
 traced over the gateway of Hades, " All hope 
 abandon ye who enter here." 
 
 Durand was not terror-stricken, yet he felt far 
 from comfortable. These words he had read in 
 his youth. Then they had impressed him as timely, 
 and as appropriate and awful. Now, enhanced as 
 they sounded amid the surroundings and the dim 
 light that only outlined things, he felt them 
 ominous. He turned and looked for his guide and 
 sponsor. He had disappeared, and in his place he 
 beheld a much larger figure. This figure moved and 
 momentarily the light grew bright a bit and he saw 
 it outlined, a large human form, perhaps only 
 human as to shape, ho\vever. Its head was adorned 
 with horns, its body was bedecked with transparent 
 spangles that reflected the little light of the room, 
 and in his hand was actually held the proverbial 
 spear. As it moved a bit there was a clanking 
 noise, and a voice sounded from afar off again, 
 " All hope abandon ye who enter here," and the 
 figure beside Durand acting as sponsor called back 
 responsively : " We have left all hope behind." 
 
 Durand again heard clanking noises and felt his
 
 164 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 escort lean toward him and he thought clasp a 
 chain about his body. 
 
 " Is the candidate bound with that chain, the 
 other end of which was welded by Vulcan to the 
 head pillar of Hades?" called out a voice some 
 where in the darkness. 
 
 " He is so bound, Oh Beelzebub," was the an 
 swer; "he cannot escape us." 
 
 " Lead forward then, this imp who shall be our 
 victim." 
 
 Durand felt a tug on the chain and mechanically 
 he followed, followed on he knew not where, and 
 yet was not afraid, only these words of Dante, 
 reiterated by the invisible Beelzebub, preyed a bit 
 on his mind. In the darkness he could not tell 
 whither he was being led. However, as they moved 
 forward occasionally he indistinctly saw forms 
 seated about him, which again disappeared in the un 
 certain light. As they moved about, he heard 
 groans coming from far off. 
 
 " The demons below are howling." This in 
 deep sepulchral tones from his escort. It was re 
 peated several times elsewhere and his sponsor made 
 the same comment once or twice again. Then they 
 stopped as the spear was brought violently down 
 for several strokes upon the carpeted floor. 
 
 "Who comes?" said a voice in front.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 165 
 
 " I, acting under orders from and impersonating 
 our Satanic Majesty, and with a recruit." 
 
 "His name?" 
 
 Durand heard his own name repeated. 
 
 "What does he here?" 
 
 " He purports to become one of us." 
 
 " Is he suited to our order? " 
 
 " He believes not in a deity but in the Devil." 
 
 " Then he is qualified, but why does he invade the 
 holy sanctity of his Majesty s temple?" 
 
 " That he might learn of Beelzebub." 
 
 " And that knowledge is to be found? " 
 
 " In and through the teaching of Beelzebub." 
 
 " The answers show a proper power of discern 
 ment. Proceed." 
 
 The candidate was escorted about the place 
 several times, a process that was slow, owing to 
 the darkness and the size of the room, halting oc 
 casionally while some dignitary hailed and ques 
 tioned him, his escort answering. At last the voice 
 of Beelzebub spoke again. 
 
 " Proceed with the novitiate to the shrine; taking 
 care that he prostrate himself, face to the ground, 
 before the eternal and everlasting fire that lights 
 the way to his Majesty s throne, and there by oath 
 both solemn and awful bind himself to the order of 
 Satanists, and be told its mysteries." 
 
 As Durand was conducted towards the place
 
 1 66 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Beelzebub had designated, the place from whence 
 had come the only light present that had caused 
 those weird and transitory rays about, he beheld a 
 dais, circular in form, in the foreground of which 
 was placed a large bronze urn, or rather a vase, 
 three feet in circumference. It was highly bur 
 nished, while its base was weirdly and beautifully 
 resplendent in the flood of light that came as he 
 looked. Within the urn was a fire that seemed to 
 burn of itself, having no fuel so far as could be 
 seen, and yet it burned. He thought of tales of 
 ancient priests and seers, who by magic brought 
 fire from apparently nothing, in order to confound 
 the gullible and credulous. He wondered if these 
 people of whom he was becoming a part knew the 
 secret of the trick. As he looked it brightened 
 again, and he felt certain this fire was by chemical 
 process. He thought he heard something strike the 
 vase each time just before it burned brightly. 
 Knowing that whatever it might be it must descend 
 from somewhere, he glanced aloft and saw a great 
 outstretched hand reared over the urn. Following 
 the shadows out he saw an immense figure of iron 
 an image of the Devil just back of the urn, and of 
 which the hand was a part, a hideous thing it 
 looked, monstrous and malignant. Its diabolical 
 face with fierce eyes and low forehead, open mouth 
 and protruding tongue, together with the sensual
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 167 
 
 and atrocious expression, made it appear indeed as 
 the handiwork of the devil, or of one with an im 
 agination both infernal and malevolent. As Du- 
 rand looked, the voice of his prompter spoke: 
 " Prostrate yourself, face downward." 
 
 He complied. Then the voice of Beelzebub spoke : 
 " Repeat these words as they fall from my lips, 
 In the presence of the symbolic Devil before me, 
 whose form I see by the light of centuries, a light 
 that has never failed, and is a spark from Hades, 
 and also in the presence of Beelzebub, the prince of 
 Devils, Diespitis, the exhaler of sulphur, of Azazeh, 
 that demon of the desert, of Lillith, the Devil s bride 
 to be, and of Osiarin, the receiver of the souls of 
 the damned, I swear that what I have seen or shall 
 hereafter witness, as pertaining to the order of 
 Satanists, shall be forever contained within me a 
 secret. I swear that I believe in no deity, except 
 the Devil, that Satanic teachings are superior to 
 all other beliefs, that I believe not in the keeping 
 of the decalogue but rather in sin, license and free 
 love ; that I hold the Devil above all, and will on all 
 occasions so extol him ; that I believe in many devils 
 as the ancients believed in many gods : In con 
 tinuation I believe in the power of Satan over good, 
 and his presence as a thing to be sought. On all 
 occasions I will exemplify the teachings of the 
 society to the point of disobeying the decalogue and
 
 1 68 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 all state laws, and that its teachings might be pro 
 pagated I would rob or pillage. I would sacrifice 
 the interests of my family to the interests of the 
 society. I believe in the powers of darkness, the 
 imps of Satan and the Black Mass. Should I ever 
 reveal what has been or shall be unfolded to me, I 
 invite the Society to do with me as they see fit, 
 even to the point of roasting my body while yet 
 alive that I might suffer a just and proper torment 
 for my violation. I this swear in the names of the 
 devils before mentioned, and in addition by all the 
 names known to Demonology. 
 
 Durand repeated this awful oath and blasphemy 
 without a tremor. Not that he believed in it, but 
 it was in the line of the ritualistic work, and he 
 would not and did not falter. To his credit, be it 
 said, that if he believed in either, he believed more 
 in God than in this blasphemous worship of the 
 symbol of the divine antithesis. He entered into 
 it, thinking it trivial, and analogous to many sects 
 of the dark ages, and a revival of those demon 
 worshippers who date their existence to the begin 
 ning of the Christian era. So he turned not back, 
 having in mind only one object, only one reason 
 for his presence, an acquiescence that found reason 
 in the fascination Mile. Sara cast about him, a 
 fascination by which Eve brought Adam down and 
 with him the race of man. By reason of this same
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 169 
 
 fascination Mark Antony forgot his own coun 
 try, forgot his obligations to the state and to Caesar, 
 and in Egypt s queen sought and found new and 
 strange gods. This we say not in condonement, 
 not in amelioration, but rather in elucidation. 
 
 " Arise," said the conductor. And when Durand 
 had risen, the lights from myriads of electric globes 
 were flashed on, and he beheld a most magnificently 
 furnished room, with several rostrums at each end 
 and side, where sat the dignities who had assisted 
 in the initiation. These rostrums were adorned 
 with canopies supported by pillars which seemed 
 like burnished gold. The one, however, from which 
 Beelzebub presided, had, entwined about the pil 
 lars, huge carved serpents of greenish hue, with 
 open jaws and fiery tongues. Reclining on divans 
 and settees were the people he had met before that 
 evening, many of whom smiled and nodded ap 
 provingly towards him. 
 
 Upon the walls he saw large paintings, which, 
 done in artistic style, yet could hardly be called 
 handsome, as the subject of each painting was some 
 cruel devil or other horror. One was of a great 
 satyr, that, half goat and half man, had in its face, 
 the acme and the fulfillment of the artist s desire to 
 picture lust and evil. Pictures of horned devils, 
 out of whose bodies grew monstrosities, were in 
 plenty, while here and there as if to complete the
 
 1 68 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 all state laws, and that its teachings might be pro 
 pagated I would rob or pillage. I would sacrifice 
 the interests of my family to the interests of the 
 society. I believe in the powers of darkness, the 
 imps of Satan and the Black Mass. Should I ever 
 reveal what has been or shall be unfolded to me, I 
 invite the Society to do with me as they see fit, 
 even to the point of roasting my body while yet 
 alive that I might suffer a just and proper torment 
 for my violation. I this swear in the names of the 
 devils before mentioned, and in addition by all the 
 names known to Demonology. 
 
 Durand repeated this awful oath and blasphemy 
 without a tremor. Not that he believed in it, but 
 it was in the line of the ritualistic work, and he 
 would not and did not falter. To his credit, be it 
 said, that if he believed in either, he believed more 
 in God than in this blasphemous worship of the 
 symbol of the divine antithesis. He entered into 
 it, thinking it trivial, and analogous to many sects 
 of the dark ages, and a revival of those demon 
 worshippers who date their existence to the begin 
 ning of the Christian era. So he turned not back, 
 having in mind only one object, only one reason 
 for his presence, an acquiescence that found reason 
 in the fascination Mile. Sara cast about him, a 
 fascination by which Eve brought Adam down and 
 with him the race of man. By reason of this same
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 169 
 
 fascination Mark Antony forgot his own coun 
 try, forgot his obligations to the state and to Caesar, 
 and in Egypt s queen sought and found new and 
 strange gods. This we say not in condonement, 
 not in amelioration, but rather in elucidation. 
 
 " Arise," said the conductor. And when Durand 
 had risen, the lights from myriads of electric globes 
 were flashed on, and he beheld a most magnificently 
 furnished room, with several rostrums at each end 
 and side, where sat the dignities who had assisted 
 in the initiation. These rostrums were adorned 
 with canopies supported by pillars which seemed 
 like burnished gold. The one, however, from which 
 Beelzebub presided, had, entwined about the pil 
 lars, huge carved serpents of greenish hue, with 
 open jaws and fiery tongues. Reclining on divans 
 and settees were the people he had met before that 
 evening, many of whom smiled and nodded ap 
 provingly towards him. 
 
 Upon the walls he saw large paintings, which, 
 done in artistic style, yet could hardly be called 
 handsome, as the subject of each painting was some 
 cruel devil or other horror. One was of a great 
 satyr, that, half goat and half man, had in its face, 
 the acme and the fulfillment of the artist s desire to 
 picture lust and evil. Pictures of horned devils, 
 out of whose bodies grew monstrosities, were in 
 plenty, while here and there as if to complete the
 
 170 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 scheme, a dragon atrocious and horrible was 
 seen. 
 
 Again he looked and saw another painting, whose 
 presentment made him feel uncomfortable. It was 
 of mammoth proportions, occupying fully one 
 quarter of the end of the room. It was of an iron- 
 wrought gateway with closed doors, swinging on 
 heavy posts. Its title was " The gate we shall 
 enter." Through the cracks around the door in the 
 painting smoke was issuing, and here and there a 
 dull red glow showed, while one could almost be 
 lieve the smoke that had floated away in the cloud 
 above was laden with sulphurous odors. Not these 
 things were responsible for Durand s apprehension, 
 or the slight quaking he felt, but in letters of gold 
 over the doorway he saw written again those words : 
 " All hope abandon, ye who enter here." 
 
 " Loose the chain about his middle for now he 
 is bound by an oath stronger than chains," he 
 heard. Then followed an explanation of the sym 
 bols of the fire and the devils before him, an ex 
 planation which seemed to be frivolous, but he 
 paid great heed, however, to what was said. He 
 learned that the Devil was created at the dawn of 
 sorcery, and that sorcery antedated knowledge and 
 was greater than science. He learned that the 
 order was born at the birth of Adam and that Adam 
 was its first presiding officer; that the idol and
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 171 
 
 another like it, whose location would yet be re 
 vealed to him, was taken from the temple of Osiris 
 that was built by one of the Rameses of Egypt, and 
 that the eternal fire was then burning, even as it 
 yet burned. Believing in his theory that the fire 
 was of chemical origin, Durand almost smiled, yet 
 refrained as he felt that his levity might cause him 
 to be dismissed even before he knew all. He 
 realized that although he was only half-hearted in 
 enthusiasm and entertained no such belief as was 
 exacted from him, yet he thought the belief as good 
 as any perhaps, and he had no objection in con 
 tinuing. He learned that even the painting he had 
 looked upon had a significance, and the significance 
 was explained. Here the candidate was made ac 
 quainted with the grip of the order and given the 
 password, which were the words that had chilled 
 him. " All hope abandon ye who enter here." 
 
 " Prepare the fire that the candidate may be tried 
 as to his fortitude," was next commanded. 
 
 " It is ready, O Beelzebub," was replied. And 
 then a roaring sound filled the room as if some 
 mighty cataract of flame had burst forth. It 
 crackled and roared like a mighty chimney draft. 
 At once a door at the left opened and from behind 
 it a great light filled the room that had suddenly 
 been darkened from within. This glow cast its
 
 172 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 fiery light about in every corner, while the roar in 
 creased to a deafening noise. 
 
 " You are to be purged that the last vestige of 
 any former religion may be burned away," said 
 Beelzebub. " In order that you may show proper 
 fortitude and courage in the future, you will pass 
 through yon cloud of burning sulphur." 
 
 The attendant took his arm and whispered to 
 him, " Double quick now ! " starting off at a rapid 
 run toward this door beyond which was the wall of 
 flame. 
 
 Never faltering Durand obeyed the order and 
 ran unhesitatingly with his escort to the door of 
 fire, while the attendant stopped and drew back, 
 administering a mighty shove to the candidate. 
 As he did so Durand fairly leaped into what was 
 beyond.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 173 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 As Durand leaped into the wall of flame before 
 him, he heard a mighty chorus of derisive cheers 
 as the spectators approved of his courage. As he 
 ran he thought " This company have all passed 
 through this same fire." He felt if they survived 
 it, he would. Besides, he remembered the trick 
 of the eternal fire, and was assured that this purging 
 mission was to try one s courage rather than harm. 
 In leaping forward he was sure that he would land 
 on his feet, safe in body. This proved true. He 
 had merely passed through a wall of artificial fire, 
 known as red fire, a composition of certain chemi 
 cals, that when lighted give forth a flame that is 
 colored at the discretion of the maker. This fire 
 was mechanically arranged about the doorway, at 
 its sides and overhead. The effect was all that was 
 desired. The crackling and roaring was the result 
 of certain stage appliances that in operation would 
 provoke the other respective noises; all farcical to 
 be sure, but before its exterior more than one had 
 quaked, and few had shown the fortitude exhibited 
 by Durand.
 
 174 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 This whole proceeding had been to him a diver 
 sion that was welcome. He had looked upon it as 
 a frivolous and mean attempt to profane Christian 
 religion, and while he did not regret this profana 
 tion he was willing, indeed he was anxious to 
 pass through it, for there was Mile. Sara as a prize 
 to thus win. 
 
 Durand found himself not alone after passing 
 through this purging process. Instead he found 
 several men waiting for him, who extended their 
 hands and congratulated him on his bravery. 
 While in conversation with them he heard a com 
 motion inside and knew that those in the main 
 temple were passing elsewhere. Soon he was 
 ushered through a door at his right and found him 
 self in a large and richly furnished banquet hall, 
 that ablaze with light from blue bulbs on all sides 
 really gave out the glow of Fairyland, when per 
 haps the effect desired was the coloring of the 
 sulphurous glint of Hades. 
 
 This room or banquet hall was in length greater 
 by half than in breadth. One long, richly dressed 
 table was in its center. 
 
 Most of the company had entered before Durand 
 was ushered in, and noisily were being seated. He 
 was directed to a certain seat where presently he 
 found himself oposite M. and Mme. La Monta, 
 and with Mile. Sara at his right and M. Divan just
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 175 
 
 beyond. The Mademoiselle nodded as she smiled 
 and said, " The guest of honor are you. Oh, but 
 you were a good candidate ! " 
 
 " The goal is worth being good for," he replied. 
 The others thinking he referred to the society in his 
 compliment smiled, while Mile. Sara arched her 
 brows understandingly as though to warn him of 
 perilous ground, or the danger should the real 
 meaning be suspected by Divan. 
 
 She returned : " Are you then so pleased with 
 our \vays or are you jesting? " 
 
 "I never jest," said he; "I am indeed pleased 
 that I was invited to join. These people I like; 
 the ceremony I enjoy; while the theme underlying 
 it all appeals to me as something I have long sought 
 and now find." 
 
 " Aye," said La Monta. " Indeed the ceremony 
 is grand, yet should you be privileged to go further 
 and view what is beyond you will indeed have 
 reason to be glad you witnessed it." 
 
 "Why should he not go on? Why not? We 
 may be chosen among the envoys who are to wit 
 ness what is beyond," said Mile. Sara. 
 
 " Like enough. Like enough," replied La Monta. 
 
 Durand had wondered at the presence of waiters 
 at the table who, by this time, were serving viands. 
 He wondered if they knew whom they served or of 
 the character of the place. Then he remembered
 
 176 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 seeing some one lock the doors leading into rooms 
 the party had just quitted, and he knew these 
 waiters must be in ignorance, partially at least of 
 what transpired beyond the doors. He noticed, 
 however, that Mile. Sara and La Monta had 
 hushed their voices as a waiter approached. 
 
 The banquet was now well under way. Peals 
 of music drew Durand s attention to the extreme 
 end of the hall. He beheld a large organ built into 
 the wall, and at it seated a man who brought forth 
 beautiful notes notes that seemed inharmonious to 
 what he had witnessed and to the character of 
 those present. 
 
 A waiter appeared followed by another bearing 
 trays of bottles and glasses. As the guest of honor 
 he was served first. He was offered champagne 
 and absinthe. Wisely he chose champagne, yet he 
 noticed that in contradiction to his choice nearly 
 all present took absinthe. Then he connected these 
 devilish affairs and worship with the effect of 
 absinthe and considered that one was the child of the 
 other, one the product of insane imaginings in 
 cited by the other. 
 
 Slowly the liquors took effect. It was evidenced 
 at first by a loud laugh or guffaw here and a 
 flushed face there. He sat quietly and viewed the 
 scene, and after an hour came to believe that nearly 
 one hundred people before him were drunk.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 177 
 
 Finally La Monta as toastmaster arose. Half 
 turning, he pointed his finger at the painting on the 
 wall behind Durand which had escaped his notice 
 so far. Said La Monta : " See our latest acquisi 
 tion, a painting done for us under the supervision 
 of a competent committee. It represents a scene 
 that theologians love to dwell upon and which refers 
 to the wanton use of so-called sacred vessels that 
 were taken by a great king s father from the 
 temple of the Jews. These men in clerical garb, 
 who would that all get inspiration from them per 
 sonally, make much of the facts of the final ending 
 in rout and slaughter that they say fell to the lot of 
 Belshazzar for his sacrilege and blasphemous of 
 fense. This painting is the counterpart, as the 
 eminent artists saw it, of Belshazzar s feast. Look 
 upon it, my beloved adherents of Belshazzar s re 
 ligion, and say if it is not a thing of beauty." All 
 gazed upon the picture, noting its salient points, its 
 beauty and the workmanship. 
 
 La Monta continued. " Notice the beautiful wo 
 men at the feast, concubines of the king it is fair to 
 presume. One can nearly imagine that these faces 
 depicted something beside fear, a moment before, 
 yet that black hand on the wall beyond had struck 
 terror to the hearts of all, even the king. Instead 
 of voluptuous satiety being depicted upon the face 
 of beauty, there is the look of scorn, hate, fear, 
 12
 
 178 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 disapproval, violent agitation and distress. The 
 warriors faces have caught up the feeling of the 
 women and also reveal mingled emotions. Even 
 old Belshazzar has allowed the prevalent alarm to 
 throw him into frenzied concern. Upon his face 
 you read defeat, violent passion subdued by greater 
 power alone, and a surrender to that power. All 
 is beautifully depicted, yet as false as the story un 
 derlying it." 
 
 The glass in his hand was brought into repeated 
 play as he held it again and again to his lips, drink 
 ing great draughts, while a waiter replenished the 
 disappearing absinthe. 
 
 The banqueters before him followed suit. " The 
 story is a lie," shrieked the infuriated La Monta, 
 " and a fabrication. Belshazzar, if he held that 
 feast, never saw the hand on the wall, a super 
 natural thing of which in history there is no proof 
 or counterpart. No proof, I say, and I defy this 
 God to interfere with what shall be done here." 
 Forgetting the presence of those who were un 
 initiated, he Belshazzar-like said to one or two per 
 sons, calling them by name : 
 
 " Go into the chamber and from beneath the idol 
 of his Satanic Majesty draw forth and bring hither 
 the vessels you find there, vessels that we have 
 pillaged or caused to be pillaged from Catholic 
 churches throughout France."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 179 
 
 M. Divan was on his feet at once. " I would not 
 question your authority in the matter, Oh Beelze 
 bub ; I would not presume to usurp your power, yet 
 I beg to inform you that the silver vessels were col 
 lected for a more necessary and glorious purpose 
 than that of assisting in the exemplification of your 
 defiance. They were accumulated with great stealth 
 and exposure to harm. Bravery alone accounting 
 for some of the more cherished ones, and for a 
 more definite purpose, they are to be used, you re 
 member, when a great fete will be held and a bride 
 will be furnished his Satanic Majesty. I beg you 
 that that occasion be their dedication to our service 
 and not now as you would use them. 
 
 La Monta, beside himself that his right and au 
 thority w r ere questioned, replied, " Nay I care not 
 for your babblings ; when I wish to use these vessels 
 I will use them, and now, one and all shall drink 
 and eat from them. Again I say bring forth the 
 pillaged sacramental services that we may use 
 them." 
 
 Divan s face flushed violently at the rebuff meted 
 to his words of counsel and fell to drinking heavily, 
 a thing he rarely did, while those designated un 
 locked the door and entered the temple proper, 
 bringing back armfuls of silver goblets, chalices, 
 pitchers, plates and vases, all of solid silver and 
 which in history had been sacred to some God-
 
 i8o THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 fearing priest and his communicants. Some were 
 beautifully wrought and chased with scenes that 
 were Catholic symbols. Others were gold inlaid, 
 and all were the finest that could be produced, and 
 dated back, perhaps in some cases, to the reign of a 
 Gregory or a Pius who affixed to his name Roman 
 numerals that were of low denomination. 
 
 La Monta commanded that they be distributed 
 about and that wines and viands henceforth during 
 this banquet be served from them. 
 
 " There," he said, as all complied. " Look upon 
 the walls on all sides and see if any handwriting 
 there appears, that spells our doom. Nonsense, non 
 sense, I say, is the story of Belshazzar. Music," 
 he bellowed forth, " that we may add zest to our 
 Belshazzar feast. Give us music." 
 
 The organ again gave forth an air with which 
 all seemed familiar. It was an air common in the 
 concert halls of Paris Bohemia, and was rollicking 
 and swinging. Soon the crowd took up the words 
 and men and women alike sang the words to a 
 song that would bring the blush to any cheek whose 
 owner possessed modesty. Such was the moral 
 status of the devil-worshippers. A man when 
 drunken develops his natural traits and says and 
 does things that when sober are hidden under the 
 veneer of refinement ; but when drunken, especially 
 on absinthe, his depravity knows no bounds.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 181 
 
 The singers swayed back and forth, singing and 
 holding aloft the sacred vessels as the liquor coursed 
 in their veins, some in frenzy shouting, jumping 
 from their seats and madly dancing about the room. 
 The waiters, having witnessed these scenes before, 
 looked on without astonishment. They dared not 
 show surprise, as the revenue they received was 
 large. They maintained their equanimity there and 
 their secrecy thereafter. 
 
 As we have said, M. Divan, chagrined at the 
 rebuff he received, drank heavily and now showed it 
 plainly. His head gradually tilted forward, his 
 body relaxed as he drank again and again from the 
 poison, stupor-giving potion. Mile. Sara watched 
 him closely, never raising a protesting word or 
 hand, rendering him no steadying assistance as he 
 swayed in his chair, yet observing the quantity he 
 consumed. 
 
 La Monta s wife, however, protested repeatedly 
 as her lord drank, yet she drank with him, until 
 finally both leaned forward, their arms supported 
 by the table, their heads upon their arms, where 
 they snored. 
 
 Divan made an effort to rise up. Instead his 
 feet slipped from underneath him, and he slipped 
 down, down under the table where he lay in a 
 stupor. 
 
 Durand drank little, yet once he had almost given
 
 1 82 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 way to the general ribaldry of song and liquor ami 
 found himself singing, and was about to drink from 
 his cup again when he caught the meaning look of 
 Mile. Sara, which seemed to say, " Don t. Let the 
 others but not you." 
 
 He set the goblet down untasted this time and 
 asked himself why this warning. After the collapse 
 of Divan he understood. She arose and meaningly 
 looking into his eyes, left the room. A moment 
 later he followed. 
 
 He found her in an ante-room, waiting for him. 
 
 " Come," she said, " there are smoking and read 
 ing rooms on the next floor. Come with me." 
 
 Following her they came to a stairway and she 
 preceded. They made their way up and then along 
 a well-furnished corridor. She stopped at one of 
 the rooms, and opening the door they both entered. 
 
 " You are wise," said Durand. " You did not 
 protest at Divan s drinking." 
 
 " No, to avoid a scene, with him ancl me as prin 
 cipal actors, I said naught. Besides I wanted to be 
 here with you." 
 
 " I appreciate your choice," he said. 
 
 She seated herself on the divan and motioned him 
 to her side. " Let us talk. Amuse me," she said, 
 " for I am tired of this life and its entailments 
 incidental to the Satanists."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 183 
 
 " Tired of life," he said, " you who have so 
 much? " 
 
 " Yes, I am tired of it all." " Every time I come 
 here I grow more so. To-night as I looked upon 
 your initiation I regretted that I brought you here, 
 regretted that you came here, while the banquet 
 gave me a further loathing for it all that I had not 
 felt before." 
 
 " You are growing good," he said. 
 
 " I hope so " was her simple reply. " No, I am 
 not, but of late there is within me at times a pro 
 testing conscience. Had my lot been along dif 
 ferent lines I should have been different." 
 
 " You are moralizing," he laughed. " Yet you 
 grow not tired of M. Divan." 
 
 She looked at him critically. " I would leave 
 him any time, yet what else is there for me to do 
 but make the best of what I have? " 
 
 " Come with me," he said, " I will care for you." 
 
 "As your mistress?" 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " Why not? " 
 
 For a time there was silence. She gazed upon 
 the floor. Then she spoke. " Never before have I 
 felt as I feel to-night. As I look upon you, know 
 ing you to be far from good, yet I feel that you 
 are entering upon a plane that in time would prove 
 your undoing. I pity you because I care for you. 
 Those fearful words that are the perpetual pass-
 
 1 84 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 words of the order startle me and make me afraid." 
 
 Durand looked at her keenly. " They startled 
 me," he said. 
 
 She continued. " I am but a woman after all, 
 and to-night their meaning sank deep into my heart 
 and I fear some direful punishment will be meted 
 to us." 
 
 He said, " Why not change your title of Lillith, 
 the High Priestess, to Lillith, the High Prophetess?" 
 
 " Nay," she said, " I am serious. I fear after 
 all this is but blasphemy, and as I said, will not go 
 unpunished." 
 
 " Your faith in the Devil is wavering." 
 
 " I never had this faith, as you know. Neither 
 have they who compose its active membership. 
 They are liars, every one of them. This religion 
 suits their lives, desires and hellish propensities and 
 so they follow it." 
 
 " Whew ! " he said, " a philosopher as well as a 
 moralizer." 
 
 " No, neither, but one tired of this blasphemy and 
 who would, if she could, escape it. Had you asked 
 me previous to to-night to be your mistress I should 
 have been willing, but now I see it differently. 
 The feeling for you which I experience is love, 
 tainted of course, yet I am capable of a true love. 
 I feel it and know it."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 185 
 
 He laughed. " And what would you with me, 
 you would rather become a wife than a mistress? " 
 
 " To you, yes." 
 
 " Impossible," he said, " impossible." 
 
 Silence reigned for a time. 
 
 " You had better remain as you are," he finally 
 said. 
 
 She replied simply, " I will. We will leave the 
 matter thus." 
 
 " But tell me, what of this affair that you spoke 
 of to-night, this going forward and seeing more 
 and learning more of the Satanists beyond?" 
 
 " Do you not know ? " 
 
 "No, how should I?" 
 
 " I will tell you. The worship of the Satanists 
 culminates in what is known as the marriage of 
 Satan. A bride is chosen for him from among the 
 popular and beautiful women of the order universal, 
 for there are many more lodges than this one, some 
 here in France and some in your own America. I 
 believe from among them all is chosen she who be 
 comes the Devil s bride. She is chosen by a con 
 clave of all the members. She is termed Lillith." 
 
 " You are to be the Devil s bride? " 
 
 She nodded acquiescence. 
 
 " Where and when is this to be? " he asked. 
 
 " In the far off city of St. Pierre on the Island of 
 Martinique. There is the head of the Satanists.
 
 186 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 There I believe is a beautiful temple fitted gor 
 geously. In it is contained the most huge and 
 devilish Devil yet produced. To him I am to be 
 united by a ceremony that only the unblushing 
 should witness. At first I shrank from it, but was 
 assured many times that I was especially favored 
 and honored, so I consented. I did not want it, 
 but M. Divan urged me on. There are the jewels 
 and the fine dresses, you know," and she sighed 
 deeply, " and one has to live and I like to live well." 
 
 " I would like to witness this ceremony. I would 
 like the journey to Martinique. I have nothing else 
 to do." 
 
 " You w r ish to go ? Then you think yourself of 
 the unblushing variety, do you? Well we can ar 
 range it perhaps, you and I, so you may go. I 
 will speak to La Monta and he will put it through. 
 I wonder how M. Divan is faring. It is nearly 
 morning. I will go below and look him up." Both 
 arose to go. " Well," he said, " then you will stay 
 with M. Divan?" 
 
 "Yes, why not?" 
 
 Durand had never thought of her as his wife. 
 Indeed he had never loved a woman in that way. 
 The idea was so foreign to him that he could not 
 entertain it. Not that he objected seriously to Sara 
 because she was " tainted," as she had put it her 
 self, yet he could not think of her as his wife.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 187 
 
 As for her, she was not devoid of womanhood. 
 Her position, she claimed, was forced upon her by 
 the inevitable and all enduring problem of how to 
 live. In seeking a living by the only way her train 
 ing led her, she had met Durand and carried out his 
 nefarious plot. She had shown herself to possess 
 some womanly instincts in that she was good to 
 Olive, in that she recently admitted to Durand that 
 she often thought of her. While her partial change 
 in attitude was through fear and disgust rather 
 than reformation of character, yet she loved Du 
 rand with as much love as her burned out spirit 
 could summon and she longed for a chance to be a 
 wife and quit the manner of living as best one can. 
 She wanted an assured home and means. This con 
 viction came to her suddenly during the period of 
 fear while the initiation was on, that she would 
 play Durand with the end in view of marrying him 
 and thus be enabled to reform and forever quit the 
 Satanists. 
 
 He looked at her curiously. " At least you 
 will allow me to kiss you as a reward for not 
 pressing this matter." 
 
 She moved toward him in answer, his arms were 
 about her, and he kissed her. The door opened and 
 the drunken Divan stood and viewed them momen 
 tarily. Then like an infuriated bull he rushed upon 
 Durand. The agile Durand, however, side-stepped
 
 1 88 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 and Divan plunged forward to turn about and re 
 peat the performance. He caught Durand s coat 
 sleeves as roaring and profaning he lunged. Du- 
 rand easily broke from him, giving him a shove as 
 he did so that sent the huge man on the floor in 
 the corner. He was up in a second, and from his 
 hip pocket drew a pistol. 
 
 " You both die," he said. " I will teach you to 
 make love while I am drunken." 
 
 Like a battering ram Durand sprang at him, 
 covering the seven or eight feet that separated them 
 at a single bound, landing his body against that of 
 his bulky opponent with enough force to have felled 
 him even without the crushing blow he dealt as he 
 he lept. Like a felled ox the form of Divan 
 measured itself on the floor and did not move or 
 stir. Sara gazed upon the prostrate man silently 
 and without protest. Then she turned upon Du 
 rand and said quietly, " It is doubtful after this if 
 you go to Martinique as a chosen representative." 
 
 " Then I will go without credentials." 
 
 Divan lay there on the floor unconscious, while 
 Durand went below to summon a cab. Twenty 
 minutes later the still unconscious Divan was borne 
 out to the waiting cab and to his home, Mile. 
 Sara and Durand accompanying.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 189 
 
 BOOK III. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT was a scene on which a poet would love to 
 dwell, over which an artist would enthuse and one 
 that would appeal to every lover of the beautiful. 
 The sun had just hidden his face behind the volcanic 
 peak of Mount Pelee, a notice that in this Southern 
 clime it would be dark soon, for here the night 
 follows the day in great rapidity. The moon on 
 the opposite side of the horizon had just commenced 
 her lofty ride zenithward. Her lustrous and large 
 face with which she favors the South seemed en 
 hanced as she slowly arose above the line of vision. 
 Far back on either side of the valley indistinctly 
 could be traced the outlines of barren and burned 
 out volcanic mountains, in strange contrast to the 
 beautiful, fertile and spacious valley intervening. 
 
 Upon the roadway traversing the valley were 
 many similar houses that bore the same relation, in 
 a commercial way, to sugar interests of the island. 
 One in particular, not unlike the others, demands 
 our attention. We see it set in the shade of many
 
 190 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 royal palms, a little back from the road, a path 
 leading from the road back to the veranda. The 
 path ran between lines of clematis, with mangoes 
 or cocoanuts forming a background on either side, 
 in splendid and luxuriant array. 
 
 This house was located on the road from St. 
 Pierre to Fort de France. It was low and broad, of 
 a single story, yet covering much ground, and with 
 spacious rooms. The roof was of gothic style with 
 a number of dormers. About the whole front and 
 both ends extended a broad, and high veranda, an 
 addition the rule, rather than the exception, with 
 houses in this climate. From the floor of the 
 veranda extending to the ground was a lattice work, 
 some five feet high, for the first floor was high from 
 the ground. 
 
 Surrounding the porch, strung from its support 
 ing posts, was a wire screen whose meshes were so 
 fine that it served the purposed intentions, that of 
 keeping out the flies and mosquitoes, these enemies 
 of humanity who live in climates that are pro 
 ductive of those pests. A close shutting screen door 
 opened at the front in the center of the veranda, 
 where the walk met the steps, the steps that were 
 the approach to the veranda. 
 
 Behind the screen and a little to the left of the 
 door sat two young men. They sat, or rather re 
 clined in large bamboo chairs, curiously wrought, as
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 191 
 
 to workmanship and design, by the native Mar- 
 tiniqueans. The native cunning in mechanical 
 ability was plainly seen in the twisted posts, the 
 fan-back and the foot-rest. 
 
 One of these young men was of medium height, 
 gray eyes and light complexion. His eyes were 
 bright and carried with their glance an assurance 
 of character. He was dressed in a white linen 
 suit, trousers and coat both capacious and comfort 
 able. White canvas shoes were on his feet, while 
 a panama hat of large proportions and rakish shape 
 sat on his head. His smoothly shaven face under 
 neath the hat was jovial and good looking, his nose 
 high, thin, and unusual in this hemisphere. 
 
 His face was interesting, and its perfect contour 
 carried frankness and honesty in every line. He 
 was alert in manner and quick of speech, although 
 he deliberated before answering questions that 
 needed thought. 
 
 The other was of a different make-up and de 
 meanor. He was a little darker, about the same 
 height and had about him the marks of good breed 
 ing, yet an indolent, careless way. He was dressed 
 similar as to clothes, excepting his hat, which was 
 of straw, of sailor style and bore inside the name of 
 a New York maker. He was himself a New- 
 Yorker, the guest of the other. His name was Mr. 
 Franklyn Best.
 
 192 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The other man had come to Martinique as the 
 agent of a New York corporation, owners of a vast 
 sugar estate, of which the young man was a share 
 holder as well as manager. Best was a visitor of 
 the other, who was Mr. Harold Graham, son of 
 the New York banker. 
 
 Harold Graham had been a resident here for 
 some seven years. He had been most successful as 
 a grower of cane, having hundreds of acres under 
 cultivation, in the midst of which he had erected a 
 crushing plant and more recently a refinery of large 
 proportions. So large was the plantation that a 
 railroad had been built, two lines in fact, running 
 from east to west and from north to south, inter 
 secting at the point of the crushing plant and the 
 refinery, thus expediting labor and reducing ex 
 penses of hauling the green cane. He had lived 
 here, engrossed with his work, not taking time to 
 visit his home, but labored on rejoicing in his suc 
 cesses and the approbation expressed in the letters 
 received from the company s home office, a com 
 pany that, projected by his father, he took great 
 pride in serving. 
 
 Since his advent here he had until recently not 
 only forbidden himself the pleasure of a visit to his 
 native home, but had not viewed even a face that 
 was familiar. He had made friends here, yet there 
 were few Americans among them, French for the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 193 
 
 most part, and while he learned their language, he 
 had not affiliated with them in a social way, as their 
 ways were far from his ways. While only a few 
 miles outside from St. Pierre, and going there often 
 on business, such as buying supplies or procuring 
 cash with which to pay the native help, yet he 
 never mixed with people in this wonderful little 
 city of the tropics. 
 
 Recently he had gone home on the receipt of a 
 cablegram announcing the death of his father, made 
 a brief visit to the family, and returned, bringing 
 an old friend, Best. Best was enjoying himself 
 greatly. Indeed Graham was a good entertainer. 
 In his house he kept a native and his wife, who 
 looked after all household details there. He had 
 a stable containing one or two saddle horses besides 
 driving horses, and the greater part of the months 
 of the early year they had spent roaming about the 
 alternately fertile and barren volcanic island. There 
 was enough zest and newness in the life to keep 
 Best from growing torpid, while Graham s cares 
 were always confining enough to give him little 
 time for dissatisfaction. At night when the labors 
 of the day had been completed, these two friends 
 sat on the veranda, smoked and talked of the past 
 and future; but more of the future, for it is left 
 to old men to talk of the past. 
 
 One particular evening they had concluded to for- 
 
 13
 
 194 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 bear the moonlight ride they had so much enjoyed 
 during this full of the moon, and instead sat on 
 the veranda and enjoyed conversation. For a time 
 they smoked in silence, each in his own way content 
 with his thoughts, and listening to the voices of the 
 natives as the belated ones came in from the cane 
 fields, singing sweet cadenced songs in low and 
 gentle French, now singly, now in chorus. The 
 melody of these negro voices, with the oft inter 
 jected minors seemed harmonious with the southern 
 moonlight and the soft, sweet-scented winds that 
 blew inland from the sea. 
 
 Best broke the silence. 
 
 " It s an ideal existence you live here, Harold," 
 he said, " one that I should like to follow myself, 
 I think." The other smiled, feeling secure Best 
 would not see him. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " I like it, yet as for you, 
 you have never done anything in this line and a 
 year or two would be your limit here in this climate 
 and without friends." 
 
 "Do you intend to spend your life here?" Best 
 asked. " I should not care to do that, yet a few 
 years, especially when one is prospering as you are, 
 would not be so bad. 
 
 " No, that is it. The prosperity with plenty 
 to do makes it bearable. Just now I have no other 
 thought save of staying here. There is nothing for
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 195 
 
 me in New York now that my parents are dead, 
 yet had my father s later days been different, I 
 should have followed him in the bank." 
 
 " Yes," the other said as if to draw him out. 
 " I remember when your father retired from that 
 institution. The reason never came to light I think, 
 yet no one doubted his integrity." 
 
 " No, there was no question as to that. . Father 
 retired of his own volition, the victim of another s 
 perfidy." 
 
 " Tell me about it." 
 
 " It is hardly worth while, yet I will. During 
 a temporary depression of the stock market, a de 
 pression that lasted but a day or two, the bank 
 found itself insolvent. The market righted itself 
 at once and the matter was adjusted. Yet a clerk 
 in the bank s employ, one who had kept the books 
 that told of the investments, shrewd fellow that he 
 was, computed, it seems, the losses and knew of the 
 insolvency. He was caught speculating afterward, 
 using the information he acquired by observation, 
 and was discharged. Afterward he was appointed 
 sole executor of a large estate, some old friend, 
 I believe, and was made guardian of a child whose 
 name I do not remember. He again found favor 
 with father later and deposited the funds of the 
 estate in the bank. He at once formulated a scheme 
 whereby to defraud the infant and was so bold as
 
 196 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 to intimate what he intended to father, who pro 
 tested and threatened exposure. Making use of his 
 knowledge of the bank s embarrassment which I 
 have mentioned, he threatened to expose the bank 
 and father s connection with it. Paying no heed 
 to the threat, father again warned him that if his 
 atrocious plot were carried out he would interpose 
 the law. Then it was that the man spoke of my 
 own chances and opportunities being ruined and 
 lost in the indignation that would follow. Father 
 had never considered the act criminal before, but 
 the man seemed capable of accentuating the appear 
 ance of the offence and the results that would be 
 visited on me, his son. A strong card indeed was 
 played in this, and father yielded and for my sake 
 agreed to keep the other man s secret. 
 
 " Withdrawing all his money and securities the 
 man disappeared, leaving father the prey of evil 
 fancies. These grew upon him and after a year 
 or two he felt compelled to resign, not feeling him 
 self to be wrong save that he had allowed another 
 to commit a great crime, that of robbing a child, 
 but believing that he was an accessory. 
 
 " Although he lived a few years after this, yet 
 it was his death-blow, for it took from him all the 
 enjoyment that an old age should have had in store 
 for him. Only one idea kept him up, that of run 
 ning down this man and punishing him. He spent
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 197 
 
 much time and money, but was never able to find 
 him. Many times he requested me to continue the 
 search and I am doing so at present. A detective 
 agency in New York has it now in charge, with 
 no result as yet, but I shall find him. His crime 
 that brought suffering to my father shall not go 
 unavenged." 
 
 " And what of the girl ? " asked Best. 
 
 " Some securities were deposited in the bank 
 in her name. How this came I never heard. 
 Father took this matter in charge and saw that the 
 investment was good. Now they have increased 
 in value several times I believe, and though she 
 should never recover the bulk of her fortune that 
 was stolen, yet here alone a goodly amount awaits 
 her. After I find him I shall search for her." 
 
 " Should you not find him, what then?" 
 
 " Then God above, who at last repays all venge 
 ance, will do the work." 
 
 "What is this man s name?" 
 
 " Herbert Durand." 
 
 " I have never heard of him." 
 
 " Probably not." Graham ceased talking and 
 for a time looked out upon the moonlit landscape. 
 
 " Come," said Best. " Let us talk of other 
 things. I was thinking a while ago that if I were 
 you I would not spend life in this ideal way alone. 
 I would marry. Why don t you? "
 
 198 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Graham did not reply at once. Finally he said, 
 " I have thought of it." 
 
 " I dare say," said Best jokingly. " Who is she, 
 some society girl of New York whom you would 
 ask to come here and forbear her rounds of pleas 
 ure, or some native Martinique maiden whose great 
 grandfather was French and who bears his com 
 plexion? I have heard that the Martinique belles 
 are the most beautiful women in the world. Say, 
 why not one of them? " he finished, laughingly. 
 
 The other joined in the laugh. " Yes," he said, 
 " these women here are straight of limb, proud, im 
 perious and of the most beautiful figures I have ever 
 seen. Hardly would I marry one, and yet in some 
 respects they are more wholesome than a burned- 
 out society woman, even though the native belles 
 lack morals." 
 
 " So I have heard." 
 
 " Yes, I believe that is true. St. Pierre," here 
 he waved his hand toward the city whose electric 
 lights could be dimly seen in the distance, " is 
 said to be the most immoral and wicked city in the 
 whole world." 
 
 " In what respect ? " 
 
 " In all respects. Gambling, immorality, and in 
 fact all the vices conceivable. Here it is said that 
 the irreligious who worship the Devil gather in a 
 building they call the Temple to worship Satan.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 199 
 
 This building I have seen and know the location 
 well. Yet I could not vouch for the story, as I 
 have never been inside to see the great idol of Satan 
 there. Yet this story goes as authenticated." 
 
 " I should like to explore this temple during the 
 worship." 
 
 " Yes, so would I, but we never will. It seems 
 strange that God allows such blasphemy, doesn t 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes," said Best. " It does to me, and I am 
 not as deeply religious as you either. But of this 
 wife I want you to marry, where shall we find 
 her?" 
 
 Graham smiled. "Yes," he said, "where?" 
 
 "Do you not know a maiden well favored in face 
 and purse? " teasingly asked Best. 
 
 " No, I know of none such," lightly returned 
 Graham. He continued, " I never have met a wo 
 man I thought of marrying." 
 
 "Why this emphasis on the word *met ? 
 Perhaps you have seen one, loved her from a dis 
 tance. You know they do it in story-books. Why 
 not you? By Jove, your face is growing grave. I 
 can see this by the moonlight. Tell me of it, of 
 her. Don t deny it, but tell me at once." 
 
 Slowly Graham began to speak, " You ask me," 
 he said, " to tell you about a matter of which there 
 is little to tell. It is true I have thought of
 
 200 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 marrying, but there was no one on whom to lavish 
 my affections. Shut out from the world, socially, 
 I have only business relations with the world at 
 large. I come in contact with few women. Not 
 that I lament this fact, for I have not spent sleep 
 less nights over the matter. Yet one day there 
 came before my eyes a beautiful maiden, whose 
 face and form I merely saw as it were in a maze, 
 and then it floated from me. You know I am not 
 given to sentimental emotions, yet as I saw her I 
 longed to know her, longed to meet and even court 
 her, for I felt within me a new feeling that was 
 never there before." 
 
 " Why did you not meet her later and become 
 better acquainted? You could not hope to win her 
 from a distance?" 
 
 " That is it. I have searched for her since in 
 vain." 
 
 " Ha, ha, old man, don t try to make me think 
 you have a light attack, for I can see differently. 
 Where did you see her. Tell me at once." 
 
 " In the cathedral at St. Pierre." 
 
 " In the cathedral ? You have not become a 
 Catholic, have you ? " 
 
 " No, but the Protestant societies here are a 
 minus quantity, so occasionally I go to the cathe 
 dral. I enjoy it too in a way." 
 
 " But of the girl : You saw her there? "
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 201 
 
 " Yes, one Sunday morning I rode into the city, 
 and wandering about, entered the cathedral. I paid 
 some attention to the service, but more perhaps to 
 the beautiful sculptural work at the sides and about 
 the altar, looked over the beautiful stained windows, 
 or at the decorations of the antique church. Some 
 of the sculptural work was donated by the Empress 
 Josephine after ascending the throne, in memory 
 of the land and city of her birth, for she was from 
 here, and she attended service in this cathedral. As 
 I gazed about I saw seated nearly opposite me and 
 at the extreme side of the church a young girl of 
 not more than twenty years, whose face I have 
 not forgotten and never will. Like myself she paid 
 little heed to the service and gazed about idly, giv 
 ing me a chance to see and study her. A white 
 transparent skin was hers, with eyes and hair as 
 dark as the night. I first thought her a half French 
 half Martiniquan until her fine, delicate and straight 
 features denied this. These features were the most 
 perfect I have ever looked upon, every line being 
 in harmonious blending with some other perfect 
 line, from the pointed chin, the finely formed nose 
 with its thin nostrils, to the high and wide fore 
 head that overshadowed those lustrous eyes. Talk 
 about the sweep of long and dark eyelashes ! There 
 was simply magic in the way she opened and 
 closed those eyes. As I gazed upon her, as if re-
 
 202 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 ceiving the mental impression that I wished her to 
 look my way she turned those eyes upon me for 
 an instant. Never before did I experience anything 
 like the enthralling sensation that was mine. And 
 she, as if answering my message to her, flushed 
 slightly and turned away her gaze." 
 
 " Exactly," said Best. " She was pleased with 
 you. Those blushes were proof positive symptoms." 
 
 Paying no attention to the good-natured banter- 
 ings of his friend, he continued. " She was the 
 most perfect type of beauty I have ever seen and 
 I resolved then and there to know her. Yes, Best, 
 I make a confidant of you, I even resolved to 
 marry her." 
 
 "A Catholic?" 
 
 " Yes, if it should so prove, but she is not, I am 
 sure." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Well, she took no- more part in the service than 
 I. Let me finish. As the service ended I waited in 
 the vestibule, allowing her to precede me, thinking 
 I would follow and learn where she lived. Not 
 caring to be seen following her, should she again 
 notice me, I drew back a bit and waited for her 
 to take the lead. A Mother Superior, with nuns and 
 children came then, and after them I stepped out. 
 The central figure of my dreams had vanished. I 
 looked in vain this way and that. She was not to 
 be seen."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 203 
 
 "Had she not entered some nearby house?" 
 
 " No, there is none near excepting the convent, 
 and she would not have gone there, else she must 
 be a Catholic and would follow the prayers." 
 
 " But the earth did not open and swallow her. 
 She lives near the Cathedral no doubt." 
 
 " I have frequented that locality repeatedly. I 
 have attended service at the Cathedral since, but I 
 have not been favored with a sight of her as yet. 
 I have about given up the hope of seeing her 
 again." 
 
 " Nonsense. The world is small. What one can 
 not find another, especially a lover in search of his 
 affinity?" He laughed. "And Martinique is 
 smaller than the balance of the world. You expect 
 to find this man, Durand, you mention and the girl 
 he wronged. Why not then this girl? Cheer up. 
 I will help you find her."
 
 204 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ONE morning three weeks later, as they arose 
 from the breakfast table and walked out to the 
 veranda, Graham said, " Frank, the weather seems 
 delightful to-day, and as I have promised you an 
 outing on Mount Pelee, why not go to-day? I 
 will have a lunch put up for us to carry along and 
 we will picnic far up the mountain-side, as do many 
 from the city." 
 
 " Agreed," said the other, and they set about 
 the preparation. An hour later in a light wagon, 
 with a large basket under the seat, they started 
 forth. 
 
 Winding down a beautiful valley, over a fine 
 roadway built from the volcanic rock of the moun 
 tains they were to visit, they came near the city, 
 when they turned to the right and pulling the horse 
 down to a walk commenced the ascent of the vol 
 cano that later was destined to make it a name to 
 be dreaded. They covered the foothills, driving 
 a few hundred rods up the mountain proper, through 
 a forest on either side, and at last came to where 
 the ascent was precipitous. Here they tied the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 205 
 
 horse to a sapling after feeding it generously from 
 the grain brought along for that purpose. An hour 
 later they stood on an eminence to the right of the 
 crater but above it and looked 1600 feet down on 
 the lake formed by the basin of the crater proper, 
 and filled by the rains. 
 
 " A nasty hole," said Best. " What would hap 
 pen if this volcano became active, should have an 
 eruption in fact ? " 
 
 Graham looked down on the city of St. Pierre at 
 its feet and replied, " Another Pompeiian cataclysm. 
 Let us hope it will not occur." 
 
 " Yet this mountain has erupted in the past. It 
 might again." 
 
 "If it did I would believe it to be a visitation 
 of God upon this most sinful city." 
 
 " Those Devil people might get scorched," re 
 plied Best. " Let us hope your friend of the raven 
 locks would escape." 
 
 Graham was silent at this. He did not enjoy her 
 name being coupled with even an innocent joke. 
 
 They loosed large stones from the crust of the 
 crater, stones that had been cast up from the in 
 terior at a past date \vhen the volcano was active, 
 and saw them slide down the incline, and plunge 
 into the water far below. They detected sulphur 
 ous odors, strong at first, but gradually disappear- 
 ing."
 
 206 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 "What of that?" asked Best. "I thought this 
 mountain to be quiet now." 
 
 " So it has been since 1851. Then it spouted 
 a bit and has been good ever since. However, I 
 have been here before and did not notice those 
 sulphurous odors then, neither have I heard it men 
 tioned. Shall we not descend now and have our 
 lunch?" 
 
 " Yes, I am hungry too." 
 
 Slowly they went down the mountain slope, stop 
 ping occasionally and looking over the scene before 
 them. Graham had brought along a field glass and 
 with it they saw Morne Rouge and Fort de France 
 plainly, towns that were from six to eight miles 
 away, while out at sea they saw several vessels, 
 some leaving watery space between them and the 
 island, some making for the roadstead whose waters 
 licked the dusty streets of St. Pierre; saw the 
 acres upon acres of cane, which now in the month 
 of April was several feet high, and bade fair to fur 
 nish an abundance against the time of garnering 
 and crushing. They were nearly back to the place 
 where the horse and lunch had been left when they 
 heard many voices, chattering and talking, voices 
 of children. 
 
 " A picnic," said Graham. " These natives have 
 many days of pleasure in this way and the face of 
 the old mountains is a favorite resort for them.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 207 
 
 Here the cooling breezes are a relief from the 
 tropical heat below." 
 
 They were now making their way down a moun 
 tain path through the forest. This path opened 
 directly into a clearing. Graham took Best s arm 
 and they stepped aside from the path, and gaining 
 the edge of the clearing looked out upon those 
 who were so loudly enjoying themselves. 
 
 They saw before them a bevy of little girls, 
 ranging in color from the fairest, set with French 
 features, to the darkest of Ethiopian colors, all 
 natives, all indigent, and given food and shelter 
 by the followers of Him who said, " Whosoever 
 shall give unto these little ones a cup of cold water 
 only, shall in no wise lose his reward." 
 
 Black-garbed nuns went here and there among 
 the children, picking flowers and wearing wreaths 
 that the children had placed upon their heads or 
 garland-ropes entwined about them. These nuns 
 were all of refined or Caucasian features. That they 
 came from the North revealed the great love they 
 bore for their calling, else why bury themselves 
 in this foreign isle of the sea? The little girls 
 romped and played, calling on the sisters for in 
 numerable things, to which they gave assent, not 
 showing reluctance to yield. 
 
 Nearly opposite where our friends stood and in 
 the shade of the edge of the trees that fringed the
 
 208 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 glade were seated several persons, one or two 
 nuns, one or two little girls who refrained from 
 playing with the others that they might seek the 
 shade or perhaps were tired and came here for rest. 
 Besides these, in the cloistered garb of the others, 
 excepting the black head-gear in place of white, was 
 a woman who, as she raised the head-gear that she 
 might smooth back the hair from the temples, gave 
 the opportunity to the observers to see that the hair 
 was slightly gray, although the face was youthful. 
 Softened and almost angelic were the lines of that 
 face, while in expression the eyes were the kindest. 
 
 Altogether it was the face of one who lived in 
 ethereal, ideal and simple ways, a face that might 
 have gained its softness, its goodness from the light 
 of a spark from heaven. The nuns addressed her as 
 " Abbess," the children as " Mother," so we may 
 of a certainty conclude that she was the Mother 
 Superior of the convent from whence they came, 
 the spiritual guide and mentor of those about her. 
 
 Seated at her feet and sewing on some work in 
 her lap, sat a young girl, with clear, dark skin, 
 large dark eyes, with long lashes. Her face was 
 beautiful, and like the other, of a soft and inno 
 cent expression. As she talked to the Mother she 
 smiled from time to time and revealed even, small 
 and white teeth as her curved lips opened. Yet her 
 dress was unlike the other s in that in place of the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 209 
 
 plain black, it had a ruffle or two about the bottom 
 and a bow of pink at the throat. Her hair was ar 
 ranged in a coil at the nape of the neck, and parted 
 a little to the left of the center. 
 
 Graham and Best made their way across the 
 clearing and arranged to come a little above the 
 party so as not to annoy or give the impression 
 that they were bent on curiously scrutinizing them. 
 They found the horse and from the wagon ex 
 tracted the basket, and entering the wood a bit 
 farther found a fallen tree on which they sat. Gra 
 ham produced from the interior of the basket trop 
 ical, native fruit, together with sandwiches, pickles, 
 olives and cakes. As they lunched Best again re 
 ferred to the subject of Mount Pelee and the dam 
 age that would accrue should it erupt. They talked 
 of the presence of the sulphurous gases that every 
 now and then they could scent. 
 
 " Eighteen thousand souls are in the city below, 
 and twelve thousand more in the suburbs," said 
 Graham. " In case of a violent eruption .nothing 
 could save them. As for our plantation, by dis 
 tance we are undoubtedly safe so far as Pelee is 
 concerned." 
 
 From their dining place they could yet hear the 
 
 prattle of the children, could even see indistinctly the 
 
 group under the tree nearby, not that they watched 
 
 this group, yet from their retreat they saw the 
 
 14
 
 210 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 young lady whom we have described as being- 
 dressed otherwise than the rest, wander from the 
 party and come slowly and at right angles to them 
 and the lower end of the glade. Graham knew of 
 a certain partially rocky eminence that lay in this 
 direction and from which as good a view could be 
 obtained as from the highest point above, and 
 thought she was coming to that place. He had 
 scarcely noted her or any of the party, thinking it 
 would seem rude to do so; yet he wondered who this 
 young woman was and why she was here with these 
 people. Then he returned to the conversation with 
 Best, dismissing her from his mind. 
 
 A few minutes later a most piercing shriek came 
 through the trees, a scream that reverberated from 
 the mountain, enhancing the utter distress it car 
 ried. Both men were on their feet at once and 
 rushed out into the clearing. 
 
 They beheld the young woman on the top of a 
 half round boulder that capped the other rocks 
 forming the eminence. She was quaking with fear, 
 jumping from one side to the other of the small 
 stone platform, and giving out shrieks of distress 
 at every jump. 
 
 " A fer-de-lance," said Graham, as he snatched up 
 a limb of a fallen tree that had broken the right 
 length to be wieldy. Running toward the place 
 he saw the Abbess doing likewise. A nun followed
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 211 
 
 her, and others dropped on their knees in prayer. 
 The children looked on in silence, their voices 
 ceasing at the sound of danger. 
 
 Clearing the ten rods that separated them, Gra 
 ham leaped up to the natural pyramid of rocks, and 
 coming to the top he saw the deadly snake, a huge 
 fellow more than five feet long, rear himself up the 
 side of the rock on which the girl stood. The 
 height was too great for it to damage the girl or 
 the smooth face of the rock offered no foothold to 
 which its body might adhere. Each time it fell back 
 it sprang again, and although the chances are that 
 each effort would have fallen a bit short of the 
 former one, yet had it secured a hold, the fangs 
 once fastened in the flesh of the young woman 
 meant certain death. 
 
 Taking it all in, as he ran, Graham gave no 
 thought to his own safety. Swinging his club, he 
 brought it down with heroic force and the fer-de- 
 lance lay crushed and dying on the rocks. The 
 girl who was rescued did what they usually do in 
 fact and in fiction, fainted. Graham saw her body 
 sway as he had dispatched the serpent. He threw 
 aside his club and caught the falling woman in his 
 arms. Descending the natural cairn, he reached 
 the ground as the others, including Best, came up. 
 
 " She is not harmed? " asked the Abbess in great 
 distress. Her fine English surprised Graham.
 
 212 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " No," said Graham, " only faint." 
 
 " Thanks to you and the Blessed Virgin," said 
 the Abbess. The other nuns bowed their heads 
 and uttered prayers of thanks. 
 
 Graham laid the girl down on the ground, plac 
 ing a stone under her feet, thus elevating them 
 so that the flow of blood to the brain might expedite 
 the return to consciousness. Then for the first time 
 he looked into her face. He turned nearly as white 
 as the prostrate one before him. For a moment 
 he lost himself, then turned and looked knowingly 
 at Best. Best looked at the girl, noted her hair and 
 skin, and understood. This was the girl of Gra 
 ham s dreams, she who had flitted across his path 
 way and was gone; now to return in this manner. 
 
 Of all present, Harold Graham was the most ex 
 cited, the most interested now. As the truth of the 
 identity of this person came to him, his zeal in her 
 behalf doubled. He grasped her wrist and felt the 
 pulse quickly. Then he ran to the edge of the 
 wood to the basket, and returned with a flask of 
 brandy and a glass. But ere he had time to dis 
 pense the brandy her consciousness returned. She 
 opened her eyes as Graham returned, looked about 
 her for a moment, then closed them again. Gra 
 ham placed the flask to her mouth, as he dropped 
 on his knees at her side. Consciousness speedily
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 213 
 
 returned to her, her strong young body assisting. 
 She looked around her and made an effort to arise. 
 Graham assisted her, and placed his arm about her 
 shoulders. Her knees were a bit shaky at first and 
 he steadied her. 
 
 All this time the Mother and the others had 
 merely looked on, the suddenness of the affair, the 
 nearness to death appalled them, while the earnest 
 solicitude of Graham was surprising and a feature 
 that a nun above all people would fail to appreciate. 
 The Abbess was the first to speak. 
 
 " We owe you much, sir," she said, addressing 
 Graham, " for which we can never hope to repay 
 you unless you appreciate our gratitude as we ap 
 preciate your goodness and bravery." 
 
 " It is all I ask, and more than I deserve, yet 
 knowing that I have gained favor with any one is 
 indeed compensation enough. I am glad to have 
 been able to serve you, however slight may be the 
 service." 
 
 "Slight, sir, did you say? You saved my life. 
 To die from the bite of that loathsome serpent," 
 and she glanced up on the rocks at the dead snake. 
 " Oh ! Oh ! " and she shuddered from head to foot. 
 
 Recovering herself she looked full into Graham s 
 face and he returned the gaze. He had just been 
 thinking what a charming voice and manner she
 
 214 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 had, devoid of shyness, and the charms of her voice, 
 the fervency of her words struck a responsive chord 
 in him. As he looked at her, and she at him, a 
 gentle flush stole over her, effacing the paleness 
 that was there a moment previous. As for him his 
 usual equanimity was disturbed for a moment. He 
 felt that she had just recognized in him the one who 
 had gazed upon her in church with an intensity that 
 was almost rudeness. He cared not now that she 
 knew he admired her then, but somehow he felt that 
 this Abbess was her monitor and as such was to be 
 considered and reckoned with, and he almost feared 
 she would interpret the blushes, and understanding, 
 place obstacles in their future pathway. He turned 
 suddenly upon the Abbess to observe her interest 
 and he saw that her eyes were upon the girl, in 
 tently gazing upon her. It was plain that the Ab 
 bess was surprised at the girl s blushes and could 
 not understand. Graham mentally calculated that 
 she was a sort of prioress over the girl and forbade 
 her outside society. 
 
 For a moment he made mental observations, then 
 from his pocket took his card and presented it to 
 the girl. She gazed upon it, again flushing and 
 raising her eyes said, " My name is Olive James." 
 
 Then she turned and glanced at his card again, 
 and presented him to the Abbess and the nuns.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 215 
 
 Graham then presented his friend Best. As the 
 Abbess heard the name Graham she turned and 
 looked scrutinizingly into his face. He stood the 
 ordeal finely, but believed the glance to be one of 
 resentment rather than interest.
 
 216 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THAT evening Graham and his friend sat on the 
 porch again. Graham was especially silent. Best 
 noticed his reticence, and after a time said, " Come, 
 Harold, cheer up." 
 
 " I am not cheerless." 
 
 " No, why should you be, you have seen her 
 again; have even learned her name and it is safe 
 to say learned where she lives." 
 
 " No," said the other. We did not learn where 
 she lives." 
 
 " Not in as many words, but she is a protege of 
 the Abbess of course, and I ll wager lives at the 
 convent you mentioned. W r ell ! well ! I told you 
 I would help you find her. I have, for you would 
 not have been on Mount Pelee to-day had it not 
 been that you took me sightseeing. I have brought 
 you luck. I will again. You may see her yet and 
 if necessary when the Abbess will not be nigh to 
 frighten you. I noticed her as she looked you 
 over, yet I failed to see any expression of great dis 
 approval on her face."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 217 
 
 " It was there though, and with her disapproval 
 the case looks most discouraging." 
 
 " Nonsense." 
 
 " Why, who ever heard of visiting a young lady 
 at a convent if the Abbess did or did not frown on 
 the man? Whoever heard of courting a girl from 
 a convent? 
 
 " Courting is a good word," laughed Best. 
 " Court you call it. Well you are indeed in love ; 
 yet I would advise you to assume more up-to-date 
 terms to express your feelings. Why not say to 
 win the tender feelings of the lady in question, or 
 to enter on a contest to establish yourself in her 
 heart. Court and make love are old style and 
 not used in polite society of which you were once 
 a member." 
 
 " This is no joke, Frank, and I want you to be 
 lieve me serious." 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Then tell me how you can help me." 
 
 " Well, you really believe the Abbess to be 
 against you? " 
 
 " As a suitor for the young lady s hand, I am 
 afraid she would be." 
 
 " There, suitor for the young lady s hand is a 
 good deal better, yet you are assuming much re 
 garding the Abbess. I will admit that courting a
 
 218 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 girl in a convent has its disadvantages, but I am 
 sure I can assist you nevertheless." 
 
 "Pray how?" 
 
 " Why, easy enough, have you enter the con 
 vent." Best smiled at his own thoughts. 
 
 " Are you sane, man? " 
 
 " Yes, perfectly, and to-morrow, with your con 
 veyance and consent, I will drive to St. Pierre and 
 look over the lay of the land and conclude what can 
 be done for you." 
 
 The next morning after breakfast Best reminded 
 Harold of his promise to assist him, and a few 
 minutes later was on the road to St. Pierre. As 
 he drove along, he thought of schemes as promul 
 gated by story-books, that fitted the case in hand. 
 He recalled how fair ones had been rescued from 
 impregnable castles, situated on high cliffs and in 
 accessible to their lovers, of knights gallant who 
 had by long ladders taken maidens they loved from 
 windows high from the ground, but no solution of 
 the problems before him presented itself or seemed 
 available. Nor had he formulated any way, whereby 
 Graham and the girl, who had introduced herself 
 as Olive James, might meet without the scrutinizing 
 eye of the Abbess, as he had led Graham to sup 
 pose. 
 
 The fact was he had led an indolent sort of life, 
 loving fun and excitement, and while he deeply
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 219 
 
 respected his friend and really wished to promote 
 his love affairs, yet he saw in the possibilities ahead 
 chances for merriment to himself as promoter and 
 confidant. He really was going to the city in hope 
 of seeing the girl and getting from her certain in 
 formation regarding the position of the Abbess as to 
 Graham, or at least to view the convent, looking 
 over the lay of the land, as he said, in hopes that 
 plans might be formulated accordingly. He had 
 great hope that something would turn up. He be 
 lieved it would, yet he knew not what. 
 
 Leaving his horse in care of a native, with in 
 structions that it be driven to a stable, he wandered 
 about. 
 
 He walked down the Rue Victor Hugo, until he 
 came to the beautiful cathedral. He viewed it from 
 the outside and the inside, being in no hurry, hop 
 ing that something in his favor would develop. A 
 half hour later, having tired of the picturesque fa- 
 gade, the plastic and carved Madonnas, he remem 
 bered that Graham had said the convent was near 
 by the cathedral. So he passed outside. On closer 
 observation, he found the cathedral to be situated 
 at the intersection of streets, and that just back 
 on the side street was the deanery where he sup 
 posed the Bishop resided. Just back of the deanery 
 and a little further down the side street, he saw a 
 building that was of brick, as also were the deanery
 
 220 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 and cathedral. Its architectural outlines were much 
 the same, and he felt it to be the convent he sought. 
 Over the gateway leading to it was inscribed in 
 French St. Mary s Convent. This confirmed his 
 former thought. 
 
 Slowing his pace he viewed the convent and 
 grounds as he walked. He beheld a large, square 
 two-story building some fifty feet in front, \vhose 
 depth was greater than its width. In the center 
 was a door of oak, massive and forbidding. Steps 
 of stone led up to this door. A walk began here 
 and ended at the gateway. 
 
 Further on Best saw the grounds were spacious, 
 saw flower gardens, where at this date in April 
 tropical flowers were in bloom, the beds being laid 
 out in artistic and peculiar designs. A little further 
 he saw the playground where the children romped, 
 a most delightful place, shaded by mangoes and 
 royal palms, spacious, cool and inviting. 
 
 The whole ground surrounding the convent was 
 enclosed by a high fence of iron palings, those pal 
 ings being separated far enough to admit of free 
 sight between. He walked the length of the long 
 grounds and retraced his steps. As he passed down, 
 he noticed an old man inside, a dusky native, who 
 as he worked about, went slowly like one decrepit 
 and aged. Best knew him to be the gardener. As
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 221 
 
 he came back, he thought best to address him, in 
 the hope of eliciting from him some information. 
 
 He addressed him in French, a language Best 
 spoke well even before the brushing up it had had 
 since his visit to the island. 
 
 " Good morning." 
 
 The old man looked about and seeing Best 
 grunted a reply as if he resented the intrusion upon 
 his work and thoughts. Best knew the natives to 
 be mild mannered and gentle, and really thought the 
 old man would, perhaps, limber his tongue later, 
 if properly approached. 
 
 " These grounds are beautiful," said Best. 
 
 The old man laid down the spade he was using 
 and came toward the fence. Best knew in mention 
 ing the beauty of the grounds, he had touched a 
 warm spot in the old man s heart. The old man 
 came close and peered out between the palings at 
 him for a moment. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " the garden is pretty." 
 
 He spoke like a very old man and Best s next 
 question was: " Have you tended them long?" 
 
 " Yes, for many years, more than forty, I think, 
 yet I do not remember as I once did, but I think 
 it must be over forty years." 
 
 " No wonder you take pride in keeping them up, 
 having been here so long."
 
 222 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Not that alone for I must needs work, even 
 though nearly a century old." 
 
 "How old?" 
 
 " Over ninety, yet I am obliged to work." 
 
 " You have seen many changes here on the is 
 land?" 
 
 Best felt he was fast gaining the old man s favor 
 and confidence. He would draw him out further. 
 
 " Yes," said the old man. " I have seen the 
 trees cut down and burned up and the sugar cane 
 grow in its place. I have seen St. Pierre grow 
 from a few houses to a city of its present size." 
 
 " Do you remember when Pelee erupted ? " 
 
 " I do, sir, well. Down at Fort de France my old 
 father and mother were killed, with several hun 
 dred others. I have cause to remember it." 
 
 Best was struck with the intelligence of the native 
 before him. It was far above that of the average 
 Martinique he had met. 
 
 " You are educated are you not ? " was his next 
 question. " You speak so finely, much better than 
 others I have met here." 
 
 " Yes," said the gardener, " a good pere taught 
 me to read and write many years ago and I have 
 ever thanked him for it." 
 
 " Yes," said Best, " it is better to know these 
 things. Where do you live?"
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 223 
 
 " In the Rue Bonaparte down near the harbor," 
 was answered." 
 
 " You have a wife? " 
 
 " Yes, my wife, nearly as old as I am, is still 
 spared me. We are very poor, sir, very poor. 
 Were it not for the good things the Abbess here 
 gives me we would want often for enough to eat. 
 My wage is small for I am old and cannot work 
 much." 
 
 " I am sorry for that. You mention the Abbess. 
 Has she been here long?" 
 
 " Some years. I don t remember how many. 
 Things far back I remember better than those of 
 recent times." 
 
 " She is kind then. She must be if she gives 
 to you as you say." 
 
 " Aye, aye, very kind. So are all the sisters 
 and the children here. Oh I love those children 
 all, and I have seen many come and go from here 
 in my time." 
 
 " Yes, undoubtedly children stay here some time 
 don t they? The other day I saw a young woman 
 with the Abbess who is no longer a child, a young 
 lady in fact, with black eyes, dark hair, white skin. 
 Do you know her ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. She is not an inmate though." 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 " I know her well. She often comes out under
 
 224 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the trees while I work and we visit. It makes the 
 work light, for the Abbess and nuns are forbidden 
 to talk to any man unless necessary, and I enjoy 
 the young lady s visits. Ofttimes she goes to my 
 home, taking the things the Abbess has sent us. 
 Her name is Olive James." 
 
 " Where did she come from ? " 
 
 " From New York with the Abbess, who was 
 then Sister Celestine. Since then the old Abbess 
 died and she was chosen." 
 
 " This girl is not a relative of the Abbess is 
 she?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "You are a Catholic of course?" 
 
 " Yes, every one is here." 
 
 "Is Olive James a Catholic?" 
 
 " No, I forget her." 
 
 "And she lives in a Catholic convent?" 
 
 " Yes, The Abbess was once a Protestant and 
 she forces not her new religion on the girl, at least 
 so Olive tells me." 
 
 " The Abbess is ever watchful of her? " 
 
 He did not seem to understand. Best changed 
 the question a bit. 
 
 " I say the Abbess takes good care of Olive? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, so she does of all here." 
 
 " This girl has no company that the French term 
 as beaux has she? "
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 225 
 
 " No, not any." The old man looked curiously 
 at him. Best changed the subject. 
 
 At the corner of the fence farthest from the large 
 entrance he had noticed a small gate that was se 
 curely padlocked. He had divined that this was 
 the way of access employed by the old man. He 
 grew bold. 
 
 " Say," he said. " You go out and in here 
 through the entrance above, don t you? " motioning 
 towards the large gate. 
 
 " No, I use the little gate at the end of the 
 grounds," and he pointed to the one mentioned. 
 
 " Such a little gate and all for you," said Best. 
 " It is so small I should think you would forget 
 to lock it when you go out sometimes. Don t you ? " 
 
 The old man rather timidly admitted that since 
 his great age had come upon him he had once or 
 twice forgotten this very thing, but he added, 
 " they," as he motioned toward the convent, " they 
 never knew it." 
 
 " That s right. They don t need to know it any 
 way." 
 
 Again he abruptly changed the subject. " What 
 are you doing this morning with the spade and 
 hoe?" 
 
 " The pests of my life are moles. I was digging 
 one out." 
 
 "Moles, what is a mole?" 
 
 15
 
 226 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " It is a sort of rat which lives in the ground." 
 
 " You are digging out the mole are you ? Why ? " 
 
 " They are more of a pest than the fer de lance." 
 Best remembered the experience with the fer de 
 lance. " They dig up the grass and the plants here 
 and they burrow, but I find their holes and dig 
 them out. They have rooted out plants and hedges 
 for me many times." 
 
 " It is hard work to dig them out? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Suppose you were to dig one out and in the end 
 find a five franc piece or two instead of a mole? " 
 
 " Don t jest with an old man. What you say is 
 impossible. Moles holes do not contain silver and 
 gold." 
 
 " No, but suppose you did find such? " 
 
 The old man s eyes sparkled. " I, I," he falt 
 ered, " should be pleased. It would do my old wife 
 and me much good." 
 
 Having drawn from the old man his story of 
 poverty and the fact that money would be most 
 acceptable, together with other information, Best 
 said: 
 
 " Draw close to the fence here. I want to speak 
 with you." 
 
 The old man pressed expectantly against the pal 
 ing. Best went on, " You say that this girl, Olive
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 227 
 
 James, comes out here each day in the shade of the 
 palms, and that you see her ? " 
 
 " I do and talk with her." 
 
 " You will be here to-morrow. I will also be 
 here and will give you a letter you are to hand to 
 her. None must see you, none must know of it save 
 yourself. If you do this I will give you a five franc 
 piece." 
 
 " You are jesting. No one would pay so much 
 for so slight a task. You would not pay me." 
 
 " I will and when I give you the letter." 
 
 " I cannot believe you are in earnest. Why 
 should you pay so liberally for this when you can 
 not know this girl, else why would you ask regard 
 ing her." 
 
 " I do know her and I want the letter given her. 
 Will you do it?" 
 
 " There is no harm in it if you know her," so 
 liloquized the old man, " and you will pay me when 
 I get the letter." 
 
 " No harm ? Of course not, and I will pay you 
 then as I said. I will trust you even though you 
 are suspicious of me." 
 
 " I will do as you ask." 
 
 " One thing more," said Best. " You sometimes 
 forget to lock that gate over there when you go 
 out. If you forget to lock it to-morrow night you 
 will get another five franc piece.
 
 228 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " I am very old, sir, and forgetful. I have for 
 gotten that gate before and no harm came of it. 
 I will again," was the cunning answer as the old 
 man smiled. " You pay well, sir, for what you 
 ask," said he. 
 
 " Yes, your work for me is more profitable than 
 digging out moles, and you have only just begun 
 the job. There is more to follow." 
 
 Telling Graham about it a few hours later, he 
 added, " The old man hunts money with the same 
 vigor he hunts moles." 
 
 " But, man," said Graham, " you don t mean to 
 tell me that you bribed him to deliver the letter 
 to this lady and to leave the gate unlocked ? " 
 
 " Precisely what I did." 
 
 " It s wrong, wrong." 
 
 " Nonsense. All s fair in love and war, you 
 know." 
 
 The other was thoughtful. Then said : " And 
 you expect me to hold a clandestine meeting with 
 this girl? " He was most concise as to his deport 
 ment, and almost wished Best had not made this 
 arrangement. 
 
 "Yes, why not?" 
 
 " Well, it hardly comes up to my ideas of pro 
 priety. I never expected to win a wife in this way." 
 
 " Win a wife! Well, you are using strong terms 
 and good ones too. As to the propriety of the mat-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 229 
 
 ter, don t worry yourself. Leave the worriment of 
 the whole affair to me. You just go ahead and win 
 the girl." 
 
 " Do you think she will assent to this clandestine 
 meeting? " 
 
 " Assent, assent ? Yes. Else why these shy 
 looks at you, tinctured with blushes, when on Mt. 
 Pelee the other day. Clandestine? Why, you talk 
 as though it were a dishonorable transaction." 
 
 " Do you think she will meet me as you pro 
 pose? " 
 
 " Certainly. What girl reared in a convent, hear 
 ing all her life of the wickedness of men, would not 
 want for herself a little experience to see for her 
 self if the wickedness be true? She will meet you 
 all right." 
 
 " Best, do you think, even if she should come, 
 that I am asking something compromising of her? " 
 
 " No, not if the Abbess is against you as you 
 think. As to it compromising the lady, her honor 
 and future are in your hands." 
 
 " True, and I shall preserve both against harm." 
 
 "Good. You will go then?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You are a brick after all. I was afraid you 
 would cavil."
 
 230 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE next morning, true to his word, Best ap 
 peared in the locality of the convent. After making 
 sure that the old man was alone and few were pass 
 ing by, he walked to the paling opposite and called 
 out: 
 
 " Good morning, my friend. How do you feel 
 to-day?" 
 
 The old man turned and smiled. " My name is 
 Francisco. Everybody here calls me Old Fran 
 cisco. I am feeling well to-day, thank you." 
 
 " Well, Francisco, you have dug out a mole to 
 day?" 
 
 " Yes, one, an obstinate fellow who had burrowed 
 deep." 
 
 " And was the killing the only reward you re 
 ceived ? " 
 
 The old man appeared not to understand. " I 
 am old," he said, in his slow voice, " and I under 
 stand not your jokes, if joke you mean it?" 
 
 " I mean did you find a five franc piece in the 
 hole?"
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 231 
 
 The old man smiled. " No, but I shall find one 
 presently without digging." 
 
 " Yes, two," said Best, " if you are still of the 
 same opinion as yesterday." 
 
 " I change not in a day, sir. Besides I do no 
 wrong and am in need of money." 
 
 " Well," said Best as Francisco came close to the 
 fence, " here are the two five franc pieces, also the 
 letter. Give it to the young lady as soon as you 
 can. Mind that none sees you do it, and, Francisco, 
 remember the gate is to be left unlocked." 
 
 " I am as forgetful as I was yesterday, sir, just 
 as forgetful," as he removed his hat, and putting 
 the letter in the crown, replaced the hat on his 
 head. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Best. " Don t forget about 
 the gate." 
 
 " Aye, I will forget all about the gate," as he 
 shambled away to continue his search for moles. 
 
 Francisco went back to his work with a new joy 
 in his heart. The ten francs represented really more 
 than he could earn in a month. His heart was 
 light, nor did his conscience in any way vitiate the 
 gladness in his heart. Not that he coveted money 
 to a great extent, but of a truth he was very poor. 
 As he walked about he occasionally felt in his 
 pocket to see if the money was there, to go on with 
 renewed vigor as the touch to his hand revealed
 
 232 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the reality of the transaction and proved it was not 
 a dream. At noon he ate his lunch in the shade, 
 keeping his hat on meanwhile, contrary to his usual 
 custom. 
 
 A couple of hours later, the children came out to 
 play, the nuns accompanying them. Black Fran 
 cisco looked carefully about for Olive, but she did 
 not come for some time. When she did the pres 
 ence of nuns made it inexpedient for him to give 
 her the letter. He worked on, keeping one eye 
 upon her at all times, hoping the opportunity would 
 present itself. 
 
 He drew apart from the others, going to the ex 
 treme end of the garden, and interesting himself in 
 a bed of roses of which he knew Olive to be es 
 pecially fond, hoping she would follow him. But 
 she either did not notice his actions or had lost in 
 terest in those particular roses for she came not 
 near him. It came to be nearly night and he wor 
 ried. Best had given him to understand that there 
 would be further employment and more money for 
 him later, and he hoped to do his first task as he 
 had been instructed. At last, being sure that this 
 errand demanded quick action on his part, for it 
 was nearly night, he took the opportunity as the 
 nuns and the children were apart from Olive to 
 walk close by the seat on which she sat sewing on
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 233 
 
 some article that lay in her lap. She looked up 
 as he approached, smiled and nodded. 
 
 " Well, Francisco, do the moles still bother 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes," he said. Then he remembered his errand. 
 
 " Miss Olive, I have something to give you. I 
 can t now or the nuns will see me. You linger 
 after they go in." 
 
 She had known the old negro so long that she 
 felt no fear in promising to stay and get whatever 
 he had for her. 
 
 She answered. " I can stay only a minute after 
 they go." 
 
 " All right, Miss Olive," and he drew away. 
 
 A few minutes later the nuns and children with 
 drew to prepare for the evening meal and then 
 Francisco came to Olive again. 
 
 " In my hat, miss, is a letter for you." 
 
 He noticed the white skin grow whiter. She 
 knows w r ho sent it, thought the old man, but he 
 went on. " I will drop my hat at your feet and 
 this letter will fall out. You pick it up and take 
 care of it." 
 
 The old man took off his hat, fanned himself 
 with it a stroke or two and dropped it at her feet. 
 The letter fell out. Olive stooped, took up the let 
 ter and the hat at once and handed Francisco the
 
 234 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 hat. She turned her back upon the convent and 
 placed the letter in the bosom of her dress. 
 
 Then she arose and took the path toward the 
 convent, and entered, as the children were going 
 into the mess-room for the evening meal. 
 
 As for Francisco, he gathered up his tools and 
 went out, taking care to insert the key in the lock 
 and giving it violent turns this way and that, con 
 vincing watchers, should there be any, that he had 
 safely secured the gate. Then he started on his 
 way home, muttering to himself : " I forgot and I 
 didn t forget, but that young man will have no 
 trouble in getting in that gate. 
 
 The children assembled in the main corridor, 
 there forming a line of march three times a day, 
 going thus to the dining-room. It was the rule that 
 all should be in place and on time. As they marched 
 along, the nuns accompanied the children, after 
 which generally walked Olive followed by the Ab 
 bess. This night the procession had moved in and 
 were already at the table w r hen Olive entered the 
 room. The Abbess looked up at her in surprise. 
 Olive walked to her seat at the left of the Abbess 
 and said, " I am late. I stayed and talked with 
 Old Francisco longer than I should." 
 
 The Abbess smiled back her approval. Olive was 
 conscientious, yet she thought it no harm if she did
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 235 
 
 not tell the Abbess the essence of her conversation 
 with Francisco. 
 
 Olive James needs no introduction, nor is it nec 
 essary to relate her early childhood life. From the 
 time she had found Helen Reed, then Sister Celes- 
 tine, in the convent of the Holy Apostles in New 
 York, the two had been together. The sisters of 
 the order had thought Sister Celestine yet in love 
 with things of the world, else why this friendship 
 and love toward the little one? But she had met 
 these criticisms with the story of Olive s life, and 
 had added that she was doing the Master s bidding 
 in keeping her from harm and the world. All 
 these years Olive had been in the convent, she had 
 been supported by the funds that were the regular 
 annuity of the convent from the church and its 
 people. Until she was sixteen, perhaps, she had 
 been as other children here, doing as they did, liv 
 ing as they lived in every detail, save that in the 
 heart of one of the sisters, who later was the Abbess, 
 there was given her a little softer and more tender 
 solicitation than to the others, and why not? Yet 
 this greater kindness, the result of this love, was 
 not apparent to the others. Instead it was dispersed 
 so thoroughly and with so great care as to be un 
 noticed by them. While Olive had not noticed it 
 in this way, nor knew it by the name of preference 
 or partiality, yet it had the tendency to cause her
 
 236 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 to cling to her who was first Sister Celestine and 
 then Abbess, with a deep love and reverence. 
 
 For many years she wore the regulation convent 
 dress and received instruction with the others, yet 
 surpassing all in quickness to learn, in aptness of 
 discernment. This aptness naturally created in 
 terest in her by others than her protectress, so 
 naturally and with this assistance she forged ahead. 
 The standard of education in this convent, like 
 many in southern isles, was not exceedingly high, 
 but it did include the fundamental branches 
 and even those more classical. Olive in her seven 
 teenth year had successfully encountered all that 
 lay in the curriculum of the convent, and in addi 
 tion, the Abbess, herself educated well, had helped 
 her further along in studies not there taught. 
 
 After her graduation, which took place in the 
 presence of the Bishop, the priests of the island 
 and others invited, a controversy arose in the mind 
 of the Abbess as to what was best regarding Olive s 
 future. That she could not stay here forever with 
 out embracing the faith and become a nun she well 
 knew. Nor had she ever hoped, requested or sug 
 gested that Olive take orders and become a nun. 
 Olive s parents were Protestants and the Abbess had 
 become a Catholic of her own free will, and so she 
 would not influence the mind of this girl. Of course 
 she attended the chapel services, showing interest in
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 237 
 
 them, yet was never offered as a prospective candi 
 date for confirmation. The clergy of the island, 
 with few exceptions, were not of inspiring character, 
 and little was said to the Abbess regarding Olive s 
 religious faith, and so she was left somewhat to her 
 own prerogatives, not, however, without being re 
 quired to teach the simple child-prayers, to exact 
 the attendance at chapel and observances of the 
 Church services. Olive knew that in some ways 
 she was different from the others, and she firmly 
 believed this to be one of the ways in which she 
 differed, so was content to follow out the course 
 the Abbess had marked out for her, trusting that 
 time would bring about changes that she felt would 
 be desirable. 
 
 The Abbess many times had considered what 
 was best to do concerning Olive s future, first hop 
 ing she would keep her always with her, hoping she 
 would accept the life of the convent. Then she 
 would feel that Olive, by birth was entitled to bet 
 ter things, things more worldly, of which the Ab 
 bess had had a glimpse in her early life. At other 
 times she thought she would have Olive return to 
 New York, or to the small town in which the girl 
 was born, introducing her and telling her story to 
 the world. 
 
 Then she would recall the coldness of society, 
 the unsympathetic mien of the masses, and her
 
 238 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 heart would quake for Olive s welfare, and so Olive 
 was with her yet. Olive, on the other hand, saw 
 little of the world beyond what the Abbess had told 
 her, and was content to stay here. When they were 
 alone, which happened occasionally when the Ab 
 bess came to her room, she still called the Abbess 
 mamma; still kissed her and was kissed in return. 
 These little loving tokens of course were unseen 
 by others. 
 
 Olive loved the Abbess as she might have loved 
 her mother, and while she knew something of her 
 own history, beyond that her own parents were 
 dead, she concentrated all the love she might have 
 felt for both parents on this one woman. She felt 
 no desire to go away. In her simplicity she was 
 content to stay and take up with changes circum 
 stances might force. Her simplicity in many things 
 w r as marked, yet her knowledge of people and their 
 ways was good, so far as knowledge could be ac 
 quired without actual contact. 
 
 This could be traced to the Abbess s teachings, 
 of her attempts to forewarn and forearm Olive 
 against contingencies that might arise should Olive 
 be thrown on the world alone. The girl well knew 
 of the sin in the world, of the proneness of people 
 to do harm, yet had no great suspicion of the mo 
 tives of the people at large. She had been taught
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 239 
 
 that men were to be cherished when a good one 
 was found, but that some and many w r ere base. She 
 knew of the differences existing between the sexes 
 and indeed, by reason of her knowledge and 
 the simplicity of her life and thought, was a true 
 child of nature. Somehow books that were not of 
 the regular convent library, found their way to her 
 room. Gift books, they were intended to enlarge 
 her mind and knowledge, brought by the Abbess 
 from where Olive knew not, yet from their dates 
 might have supposed she brought them with her 
 years before, and in anticipation of the time when 
 Olive might need them. These books often con 
 tained love tales, perhaps a romance that awakened 
 in her heart some desires that were proper and 
 ennobling. 
 
 She had seen but little of men, save the Bishop 
 and priests. Sometimes she had noticed, as she 
 walked out or looked through the palings, surround 
 ing the convent, the young French dandies of the 
 city, who passed by. Occasionally she heard them 
 talk, for she spoke French well, and noticed their 
 flippancy or baseness, heard them utter oaths or 
 indecent sayings that made her blush and feel that 
 they were the sort the Abbess had warned her 
 against. While she did not, like a captive bird, 
 beat against the bars of the cage, and was not dis-
 
 240 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 contented here, yet she felt she would like to see 
 some young man who was of the noble sort, the 
 sort the Abbess approved. 
 
 When she saw Harold Graham, as she opened 
 her eyes the day he had saved her from the fer- 
 de-lance on Mt. Pelee, that day she had felt he was 
 of this latter kind. 
 
 As she had revived from the shock of the attack 
 by the serpent, she had looked up into the eyes of 
 Graham, as he bent over her ; so intent was his face 
 as he felt her pulse, that she believed in him then. 
 She had been a bit surprised at his presence and 
 what seemed to the others as a recurrence of the 
 faint, when she closed her eyes a second time, was 
 only a silent communion with herself, due to sur 
 prise and pleasure at her meeting with this man. 
 She was glad when he gave her his card, glad of the 
 chance to mention her own name. For in fact she 
 had thought of him several times since the time 
 in the cathedral and wondered if they would meet 
 again. 
 
 After this day on Mount Pelee, she had won 
 dered if he would attempt to see her again. She 
 had noticed how the Abbess scrutinized him, and 
 also thought it was a look of disapproval. She 
 had glanced through the palings for the two days 
 intervening when out in the yard, in the hope of see 
 ing him. She had looked in vain. She was not
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 241 
 
 therefore greatly surprised when Francisco gave her 
 the letter, nevertheless she was much pleased. Dur 
 ing the evening meal she was preoccupied; the let 
 ter in the bosom of her dress seemed to burn her 
 flesh, yet she knew that anything irregular in her 
 habits, should she attempt going by herself to read 
 its contents, coupled with the fact that she had 
 been late for the evening meal, might arouse the 
 suspicions of the Abbess. So she did as usual at 
 this time. 
 
 In the company of the Abbess and the nuns, 
 she saw the children romp and play in the large 
 hall in front, then go into the chapel for the 
 closing prayers of the day. After this, the children 
 were marched to their respective wards and were 
 put to bed. Unlike the ancient nuns who lived in 
 cells more gloomy than those of a prison, slept in 
 cold beds of straw, thus denying themselves things 
 God intended for his children, these nuns here at 
 the St. Mary convent lived in rooms with good 
 beds, plainly furnished of course and without dec 
 oration, but comfortable withal. 
 
 On the second floor at the end of a hall was a 
 room that since Olive came to be older had been 
 given to her. There were not enough nuns to fill 
 all the rooms, and the Abbess had embraced the 
 opportunity to take her from the regular ward of 
 16
 
 242 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the children. Her room, plainly furnished, like 
 those occupied by the nuns, overlooked the garden 
 already mentioned. Being on the corner of the 
 building, it commanded a view from its windows 
 in two directions, of the garden and of the street. 
 
 To this room Olive made her way now that she 
 was at liberty to do so. In half an hour the lights 
 would go out, and all would be in bed, save a pray 
 ing sister, who might be at the altar in the chapel 
 praying for some one, mayhap an erring brother out 
 in the world. After Olive entered her room, as the 
 gloom was fast falling, she lighted a candle and 
 holding it aloft beheld herself in the small mirror 
 that was hers. She looked first at her dark hair 
 above, then at the black eyes, with the dark brows 
 and long lashes, and at the flush that was over her 
 cheek. She felt it to be a flush. Yet had she 
 analyzed it far enough, she might have discovered 
 it was an inner reflection of anxious expectancy 
 and awakening. 
 
 As she looked upon herself, there came to her a 
 knowledge that she was beautiful. This knowledge 
 she had never felt before, but now she fell to com 
 paring herself to the French ladies she met and the 
 native mulatto women of Martinique, who were 
 noted for their beauty, and she knew she was more 
 beautiful than they. This thought was only 
 transient, for her own level head was neither con-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 243 
 
 ceited nor foolish. Besides she had more mo 
 mentous business at hand than self-admiration. 
 She drew the shades, closed the door securely, and 
 took from her dress the letter. Her hand trembled 
 as she opened it, and a glance at the glass showed 
 her cheeks now to be scarlet, as the blood surged 
 through her veins. Unfolding the paper the en 
 velope contained, her hand trembling, so that it 
 interfered with rapid reading, she read the follow 
 ing letter, in English : 
 
 " Miss Olive James, 
 
 St. Mary s Convent, 
 
 St. Pierre, Martinique. 
 Dear Madam : 
 
 The writer introduces himself as one whom you 
 met on Mt. Pelee at the time of your encounter 
 with the fer-de-lance. Believe me when I declare 
 that I feel I am imposing upon you, and most pre 
 sumptuous when, after the slight service which I 
 rendered, I presume to address you by letter. Yet 
 I cannot resist the impulse to do so. I hope you 
 realize this as I do, and will forgive me. I long 
 for a chance to see you, and talk with you again 
 and alone. I have arranged with old Francisco so 
 that it will be possible for me to be under the palms 
 that line the playground of the convent to-night. 
 If you can arrange to come, I will be there at eight
 
 244 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 thirty. Anxiously I await that hour and more 
 anxiously I will await your coming. 
 
 Most sincerely and obediently yours, 
 
 HAROLD GRAHAM." 
 
 She read and re-read the letter many times, never 
 for a moment considering thus, will I go or not? 
 She read it many times; she read it until a glance 
 at a tiny clock, the gift of the Abbess, showed her 
 that it was time she went out if she would be under 
 the palms at eight-thirty. 
 
 I said she did not consider whether she should go 
 or not. That was true. The not had been 
 eliminated from the start. Nothing negative was 
 a factor in her decision. She tiptoed down the 
 hallway, down the stairs and out the main door in 
 front which she unlocked and passed out to meet 
 him whom she scarcely knew, but in whom she had 
 great confidence.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 245 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ON the day Graham had rescued Olive from the 
 fer-de-lance on Mount Pelee, he and Best after 
 making sure all was well with Olive, had withdrawn 
 and a few hours later gone home, leaving the con 
 vent party to make their own way in the same 
 direction. As the walk from the city up to the 
 place they had picnicked was long, the Abbess had 
 thought best not to go back until all were thoroughly 
 rested and the heat of the day past, for in this 
 equatorial climate the evenings are cool. So, as 
 the day waned, she led her little flock down the 
 mountain. At the base, they took the highway 
 leading toward the city. This was a boulevard, 
 much traveled, flanked on either side by handsome 
 residences, where each owner tried to outdo the 
 other in floral landscape decoration, assisted by the 
 climate and the luxuriant native plants. This road 
 way was of a fine, hard bottom, and was a boule 
 vard that ended in the Rue Victor Hugo, furnish 
 ing a most beautiful driveway for those whose 
 means allowed them the possession of an equipage.
 
 246 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The party walked down the roadway, the children 
 and nuns ahead, the Abbess and Olive behind. The 
 children were tired and walked slowly, or sat by 
 the roadside occasionally and rested, the Abbess 
 content to allow them to do as they chose. 
 
 Many fine equipages came along in either direc 
 tion, some of the occupants throwing pennies to 
 the children, who scrambled to get the most with 
 an eagerness born of want and desire. A handsome 
 pair of horses made their way toward the party. In 
 the rear seat of a modern brougham was a woman 
 of doubtful years, of creamy complexion and blonde 
 hair. Her companion was a man, her opposite so 
 far as hair and complexion were concerned, for his 
 skin was dark and the hair black, save that around 
 the temples which was a little gray. They were 
 talking : 
 
 " Has your lord softened his feelings toward 
 me as yet ? " asked the man. 
 
 " Nay and he will not. I have tried to persuade 
 him that he did not see me in your arms that night 
 you were initiated, yet he persisted, maintaining 
 that though he was drunk, yet he remembered this 
 plainly. He could not afford to oppose you as a 
 delegate to come here, then all would know the 
 secret, or at least attribute his opposition to jeal 
 ousy. But he has told me I must leave you en 
 tirely alone."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 247 
 
 " And how did you get away to-day? " 
 
 " Well, he plays cards much these days, having 
 little to do. Gambling is the other name for it. 
 He has drunk heavily ever since that night too. 
 After lunch I saw him going into a room with 
 boon companions and I felt it was my time, for I 
 have not seen you for a chat since we were on board 
 ship a week or more ago, so I sent for the horses 
 and despatched the note to you." 
 
 " I appreciate your driving me out," he said : 
 " yes, it seems like an age since we last met." 
 
 " You say that with little enthusiasm " she said : 
 "You don t feel that way now, do you?" 
 
 "Why, yes," he said, "why shouldn t I?" 
 
 " You don t, though. You haven t cared for me 
 since I refused to be your mistress." 
 
 He laughed. " That did make some difference." 
 
 " You should have respected me more after I 
 refused." 
 
 " You were another man s mistress at the time; 
 you are yet." 
 
 " Yes, but I shall not be another s." 
 
 "Why then do you question my coldness? I 
 never made such an offer to any one before." 
 
 " You know in what way I will come to you." 
 
 " Let us drop the subject." 
 
 By this time they had come up with the children 
 of the convent. Mademoiselle Sara, for twas she
 
 248 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 and Durand, spoke to the driver, who stopped his 
 horses just in front of the children. Sara reached 
 for her purse and took from it a handful of loose 
 money of small denominations and scattered it 
 broadcast over the smooth roadway. She stood up 
 to do this, and as she watched the little ones fly 
 about, in their eagerness pushing one another that 
 this one or that one might secure the coveted coin, 
 she grew excited, her face flushed and she excitedly 
 called upon Durand. 
 
 " Come, come, do likewise. Empty your pockets 
 that these little unfortunate negroes may enjoy 
 candy afterward. Disgorge! Disgorge!" she 
 called out. 
 
 It was doubtful if Durand ever before gave away 
 anything. He had been sitting back looking on 
 the scene without concern, but the words of Sara 
 aroused him. 
 
 He took out a large leathern wallet and handed 
 it to Sara. 
 
 "All of it?" she asked. 
 
 It was true he did not relish seeing it go. Time 
 was when he would have said no at once and pos 
 itively. 
 
 Now slowly he nodded to her. It was all 
 she wanted. She poured out her small hands full 
 several times and threw the contents to the children, 
 a performance she enjoyed and which surprised
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 249 
 
 the children. They were used to having small 
 coins thrown at them, but here was a shower that 
 occasionally contained a franc or two, and they 
 were greatly surprised and excited. 
 
 The procession had of course halted. The nuns 
 looked on or separated the children who fought 
 for possession of a small treasure. The Abbess 
 and Olive as spectators stood back a distance. As 
 the performance drew to an end, the Abbess said to 
 Olive, " Come let us draw forward and thank 
 these people, for they seem to be good at heart, 
 even though they are from St. Pierre." 
 
 " Perhaps they are from France or America," 
 said Olive. 
 
 " Perhaps," said the Abbess. 
 
 The children drew apart as they approached the 
 wagon. 
 
 Going close, the Abbess spoke. " Friends, I 
 thank you for your generosity to my little ones. 
 You were truly generous." Reverently she raised 
 her hand, " May the Blessed Virgin bring reward 
 to you for your goodness." 
 
 These Devil Worshippers were taken aback by 
 this display of piety and thankfulness, so that for 
 a moment neither spoke. Then the Mademoiselle 
 found words to say. " It is nothing. We are glad 
 to have pleased the children." But she returned no 
 word of thanks for the blessing.
 
 250 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Durand had looked at the Abbess quickly and 
 then at the girl with her. His gaze grew intent. 
 His lips parted. Surely, thought he, yonder is the 
 most beautiful creature alive. His eyes ran over the 
 supple outline of her figure, taking in the beautiful 
 white neck, the full bust, the well poised head, 
 with its hair of Egyptian darkness. A smile came to 
 his face. He was pleased. Yes, pleased with this 
 girl, Olive James, whom as a child he had plundered 
 and robbed. A sensual look overspread his features. 
 
 It was plain to Olive he looked not on her as a 
 gentleman should look, and she abruptly turned 
 her back toward him. The Abbess saw this and 
 looked at her and then at him inquiringly. Her 
 blood ran cold in her veins, for in him she recog 
 nized Herbert Durand, the despoiler of Olive s 
 wealth and chances. She would have swooned had 
 Olive not spoken. " Come, Mother," she said, " let 
 us move on." 
 
 Durand had paid no attention to the Abbess. In 
 stead he had his eyes still fixed on Olive. The Ab 
 bess took Olive s arm and they slowly walked on 
 together. Sara gave the command to move on, 
 while Durand craned his neck, still looking at Olive. 
 
 " Come," said Sara who had not recognized the 
 girl by reason of the changes the intervening years 
 had worked in her, nor the Abbess, for she, too, 
 had changed, and her bonnet hid the most of her
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 251 
 
 face. Besides Mademoiselle Sara had seen the latter 
 only once before. " Come, M. Durand, are you 
 smitten with the young lady?" While her voice 
 was flippant, her face was severe, for she had not 
 iced the great interest Durand had taken in this girl, 
 had seen him glance at her, a glance touched with 
 malevolent lust, and while feeling no resentment to 
 ward the girl, she watched the effect of her words 
 upon him. 
 
 She considered her feelings had been outraged 
 by Durand. She had told him she would be only 
 his wife, and she had hoped that this day would 
 at least help her cause. She hoped he would see 
 where they both stood in the matter. She knew 
 herself to be tainted beyond reparation in character, 
 yet she was as good as he, and why not marry her ? 
 She would hold out against his wishes that she 
 leave M. Divan and become his mistress, in the 
 hope that her firmness would gain her some re 
 spect and assist her in winning him. She had re 
 solved to seek his society more when convenient, 
 to assist her in this task. 
 
 Now she saw in his face more interest when he 
 looked upon Olive than she had seen there since 
 the kidnapping of a little girl, so many years ago. 
 Yet she never thought that the same one who had 
 awakened interest in him before had done so again. 
 
 Durand replied to Sara : " Yes, the young lady
 
 252 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 is the most beautiful I have ever seen. She is indeed 
 lovely." 
 
 " But strange, M. Durand, that you, a man of the 
 world, should be so smitten at first sight with a 
 convent girl." 
 
 " A convent girl at least will be virtuous," he re 
 plied. 
 
 The crimson came to Sara s face. Hotly she 
 replied, " From your lecherous look I judge you 
 envy her this virtue." 
 
 " You, better than I, might envy her this." 
 
 " We are quarreling over the girl. Let us change 
 the subject, and continue our drive." 
 
 " Nay, let us return to the city." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 The next day Durand inquired concerning the 
 convents of the city. He was told there was only 
 one and was informed of its location. 
 
 That night, although the Devil Worshippers 
 were to hold their nightly soiree in the great temple 
 of Satan, the temple that held the archives of the 
 head of their society, he wandered forth in search 
 of the Convent of St. Mary. 
 
 He located it easily and from the streets saw, 
 as he looked, its lights disappear. Not that this 
 gave him any pleasure, but he felt the one woman 
 whom he had ever really cared to possess was 
 housed and beyond those walls. He hoped that
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 253 
 
 something to his advantage would come up that he 
 might possibly see her and speak with her alone. 
 
 As Mademoiselle Sara had said, it was strange 
 that a man of the world like Durand, one who had 
 passed through the years of youth and was now 
 nearly ready to enter upon the years that are termed 
 middle age should be smitten with a young girl 
 like Olive James. Beautiful though she was, her 
 nature and inclination were entirely incongruous to 
 the selfishness and evil inclinations of Durand. A 
 Mademoiselle Sara was more his style. Yet his in 
 terest in her, provoked by a single meeting, was 
 great. He had at once calculated he loved her, 
 and would marry her. He had always given him 
 self the desires of his heart and he did not for a 
 moment doubt but that he would possess this fair 
 blossom of a sunny isle. 
 
 He made a mental picture of himself, rich and 
 with a beautiful young wife, going about the world. 
 He would be her tutor in many things she did not 
 know, she winning social prestige for them both 
 by her beauty. These dreams were only born of 
 a day s reflection, yet he liked them. He had 
 never had such dreams before and he thought it 
 was an awakening of the " divine passion " in him. 
 
 Feeling himself to be in love, he had come there 
 this evening. He chuckled to himself, as he thought 
 how really foolish it was and wondered why he
 
 254 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 did it. Could he have been able to read the future, 
 he might have known that fate was here working 
 out a vindication. Here the saying, " Those whom 
 the gods would destroy, they first make mad," 
 would apply to him. 
 
 The first evening was devoid of any results so 
 far as Durand was concerned. The second evening 
 he came back and loitered again in the vicinity. He 
 saw the candle lighted in Olive s room; saw her 
 as she drew the shade, and his heart leaped, and a 
 passion burned him as he looked on the young lady 
 in her own chamber. 
 
 For a time he carefully passed up and down the 
 walk. Finally he heard the sound of footsteps. 
 He walked to a mango tree that fringed the walk 
 and stepped behind it. A young man came along, 
 so close that he could have touched his arm as he 
 passed. He was evidently walking so quickly for 
 a purpose as his stealthy step proved. 
 
 St. Pierre rejoiced in the possession of electric 
 lights, yet its side streets were poorly lighted. This 
 being a side street the light that adorned the corner 
 near the Cathedral shone so faintly down to where 
 Durand was concealed, he could not get much of 
 a view of the man who passed, save that he was 
 young, medium sized and alert. Durand kept his 
 eyes on him for no particular reason, save that he 
 did not care to be observed himself.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 255 
 
 The young man walked a little distance below 
 the convent, turned and came back, a manoeuvre 
 that seemed to satisfy him the coast was clear, then 
 he stepped forward and stealthily opened a gate 
 that Durand had not noticed, in the dark, and now 
 only was sure was there by the fact that the man 
 disappeared through it and he heard a slight click 
 of the latch. 
 
 Retaining his place behind the tree he saw a 
 white figure move across the lawn, moving carefully 
 and slowly, making no noise as it walked. Durand 
 then understood. Even in this convent garden a 
 love-making was going on, and the young lady was 
 coming out to meet her lover. 
 
 " Some faithless nun," he commented. Then he 
 glanced at the window where he had seen Olive. 
 The light had disappeared. He knew now it was 
 she who came out. He swallowed a great oath 
 that came in his throat. Bah ! he had prated of her 
 virtue this day to Sara. Virtue indeed, she was 
 holding clandestine meetings with a lover! He 
 would know if this were true. He would see if it 
 were she. He tiptoed down the walk noiselessly to 
 where the other man disappeared. He felt for the 
 latch of the gate and found it. Carefully he opened 
 it and stepped inside. To the left was the row of 
 palms, and he placed himself under their shadows 
 as he walked forward, lest even the dim light would
 
 256 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 reveal his presence. He forged ahead slowly, feel 
 ing his way, now stopping and listening. He heard 
 a voice in front and near by. He stopped short 
 and listened. He heard a man s voice say in low 
 tones, " You came, did you? I was afraid I asked 
 more than you could or would do." 
 
 " Yes," was the answer. " I came." 
 
 " I am glad," was returned. A silence followed. 
 
 " Shall not we be seated? " said the man s voice. 
 
 The girl acquiesced and they came a little closer 
 to Durand than before. He saw their forms now 
 dimly outlined, the girl seated a few feet from the 
 man, both peering through the darkness in each 
 other s faces. 
 
 " You know my name," the man said. " I man 
 age a sugar plantation on the Fort de France road. 
 I first saw you in the cathedral that day. You re 
 member ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I remember." 
 
 In the tones, Durand recognized the voice that 
 had bade the Abbess to continue on their way the 
 day before, when Sara had thrown the coins to 
 the unfortunates. Clear, sweet tones they were 
 now, musical and captivating in contrast to the 
 startled, timid voice with which she had resented his 
 glances. 
 
 The man went on. " From that time I wanted 
 to see you again. I thought of you much. I even
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 257 
 
 searched for you, but to no avail. Then I met 
 you on Pelee and I wanted to see you again, so I 
 requested this meeting. Underhanded though it 
 seem to the Abbess, yet I think I am justified. But 
 I hope you do not think I did wrong in asking you 
 to come here, do you ? " 
 
 The girl had not replied to his rambling talk. 
 She was timid, but at his direct question if she 
 thought his request wrong, she answered, " No." 
 
 He smiled. "Then I may come again?" 
 
 " Yes," she said timidly. 
 
 " Would the Abbess object if she knew? " 
 
 " Certainly," came back the answer. 
 
 " Then we must be careful," he said, to which 
 she assented. Both were considerably embarrassed, 
 and he at a loss to know what to talk about, started 
 in and told her of himself. She was an eager list 
 ener. He told her of his birth, of his early home, 
 of his father and mother. His father s death he 
 mentioned as a recent occurrence and added that he 
 went to New York on receipt of the cable announc 
 ing it, and that he had brought back a young man 
 whose name she knew. 
 
 " In fact," he added, " he prompted me to send 
 you the letter. " It was he who bribed Francisco to 
 leave the gate unlocked." 
 
 Playfully she asked, " Then you talk of me, be 
 sides thinking of me?" 
 
 17
 
 258 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " I can talk or think of nothing more interest 
 ing, but tell me of yourself so I may think more 
 about you, knowing you better. Have you been 
 here long? " 
 
 " Since a child. For fifteen years at least. I 
 too came from New York." 
 
 Graham, for it was he, pricked up his ears. 
 
 " Yes, from New York. I came with the Abbess. 
 My parents were dead. She knew them and took 
 charge of me. Here I have lived ever since 
 with this noble woman who has never forced 
 Catholicism on me, knowing my parents were Prot 
 estant." As they talked, Olive, throwing off the re 
 straint and bash fulness, told of her life when a 
 child, of which she remembered little save that she 
 lived in a small town and finally was in the convent. 
 Of her life here, she told in detail, and he seemed 
 much interested in this tale of a most simple ex 
 istence, an interest that she noted and took to be 
 approval. 
 
 " But," asked Graham, as she finished, " do you 
 not know more about your parentage? " 
 
 " I have never asked. When young I wondered 
 about it, but lately I have thought they must have 
 been very poor, and why should I follow out a tale 
 of their poverty and suffering? " 
 
 This answer did not seem to satisfy Graham. 
 He did not doubt but that Olive came from re-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 259 
 
 spectable parents, and was curious enough by nature 
 to get at the bottom of things. 
 
 He said, " I would want to know if I were you." 
 So on they talked until Olive mentioned that she 
 must go in. 
 
 "Are you not afraid to come out here?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " No, I knew by your face that I was safe," she 
 replied. She arose to go and offered him her hand. 
 
 They heard a slight noise near by, as though 
 some one took a long breath, a sigh of relief as 
 it were. 
 
 Graham looked and under a palm near by, plainly 
 outlined against the sky beyond, saw the figure of 
 a man. He thought of Best, who had come into the 
 city with him ; not that Best would be an eaves 
 dropper, but he thought he might have wandered 
 this way in quest of him. 
 
 " Hello, Frank," he said. No reply came. Then 
 he saw the form was of a larger man than Best. 
 He held Olive s hand in his, and felt her tremble 
 as though greatly disturbed. Hers was a twofold 
 fear. She feared for their personal safety, and 
 any outcry would warn the Abbess that she had 
 left the convent to meet a man whom she scarcely 
 knew. 
 
 " Who are you, sir?" demanded Graham, speak 
 ing in French.
 
 260 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 No reply. 
 
 Graham advanced toward Durand. Neither 
 showed fear. Durand was the taller and heavier of 
 the two, yet Graham was young, supple and strong. 
 One waited for the other to come to him, and 
 Graham came. Like two gladiators they came to 
 gether. Graham realized that righting in the pres 
 ence of a young lady was not gentlemanly, yet this 
 young lady s secret and his must be defended. The 
 eavesdropper should be punished. 
 
 Durand as Graham came up struck him a stinging 
 blow in the face. Graham winced, backed away and 
 came at him again. The contest was short-lived. 
 Graham, vested with certain tricks of boxing for 
 which he could thank his college days, side stepped 
 as Durand struck at him the second time. The mo 
 mentum of the blow that missed Graham half turned 
 Durand around, giving Graham the chance he 
 sought. His muscular body contracted in every 
 sinew as he shot his fist forward, with the power 
 and quickness of a piston. Squarely he hit the other 
 on the jaw. He fell like an ox. 
 
 " Come," he said to Olive. " I will take you 
 to the door." 
 
 Her arm was in his as they walked, and for fear 
 of warning the inmates, neither spoke. 
 
 " Good night," she whispered as he left.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 261 
 
 " Good night," was returned and her hand was 
 again in his. 
 
 He went back to see how it fared with the man 
 he had struck. He looked in vain for him. The 
 man had gone. A few minutes later he stopped 
 at the Plaza Hotel where he had left Best. Getting 
 their horses, they proceeded homeward. 
 
 Graham told Best of his experiences, especially 
 of the eavesdropper whom he had struck. " I won 
 der who he was, and how he found his way there, * 
 said Graham. 
 
 " He is in love with the girl of course," said 
 Best, " and I can add considerable to your story. 
 I sat on the veranda of the Plaza, ogled at the 
 French girls and a few natives, besides. I amused 
 myself thus and in smoking, wondering how it 
 fared with you and if you would not come soon, 
 when my attention was attracted to a man who 
 came slowly and in a dazed way up the veranda 
 steps. His chin was cut by a blow and he tottered 
 when he walked. I reached out and taking his arm 
 conducted him inside. He was more or less dazed, 
 but thanked me for my service. The strange part 
 and the one that will interest you most is this. 
 The porter took him to his room, while I dropped 
 over to the office and inquired of the hotel clerk 
 his name."
 
 262 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " And it was " asked Graham. 
 
 " Herbert Durand," said Best. 
 
 " The man I seek and whom I will meet again," 
 was Graham s comment, as he shut his teeth to 
 gether.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 263 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FOR a day Durand meditated. This meditation 
 took place at the Plaza Hotel. He had not ventured 
 out of his room for a good reason, namely that a 
 certain cut on his chin caused by the contact of 
 Graham s fist was a menace to his pride. He could 
 not stand any charring from the Devil Worshippers, 
 with whom the hotel was well filled already, while 
 every incoming steamer was bringing more. He 
 knew those with whom he had become acquainted 
 would mercilessly chaff him regarding his abrased 
 chin, asking him the identity of the woman whose 
 lover or husband was responsible for it. So he 
 wisely stayed in his room, eating his meals alone. 
 He had told the waiter to explain that he was in 
 disposed and could see no one. 
 
 All day long one thing was ever before him, and 
 that was how best to solve the problem of his 
 love for the girl, how to possess her. He did 
 not doubt but he would, but how was the burning 
 question. There was more than one way to do it. 
 He could win her favor, and he was sure he would 
 when once he mentioned to her the fact of his
 
 264 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 wealth. This Abbess would be attracted by the 
 tinsel show of money, and if she was interested or 
 concerned that would also influence her. That Olive 
 had a lover he cared not. From their conversation 
 he had divined that this meeting he overheard was 
 their first, and he as a strong competitor with money 
 would easily distance this young hard-fisted lover, 
 before he and the girl had formed anything of an 
 attachment. He believed his case, as he made it 
 look, was invulnerable, and nothing could step be 
 tween him and the girl. Such was the man s con 
 ceit, that in his ardency he asked himself who in 
 deed, yes, who would reject him? 
 
 From his chair he viewed himself in the mirror 
 opposite and commented : " Well, I am not so bad- 
 looking either," and he was not, for nature had 
 done much for him, and his life had been fairly 
 punctilious, while his physique was excellent to 
 begin with. As yet he retained the brisk manner, 
 the clear eye of a younger man, and he must be 
 surely forty-five. Then he fell to thinking what he 
 would do if he failed in his love-making. He smiled 
 as he remembered how once before he secured his 
 own way, and the manner pursued to gain it. The 
 abduction of Olive James years before now brought 
 to his mind the feasibility of such a scheme. What 
 mattered it here if he did? Should the Abbess ob 
 ject to him, he would defy her authority and ab-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 265 
 
 duct the girl, carrying her away as a brigand steals 
 his bride or a Boloman invades the hut of his step 
 father at night and carries off his choice. " Real 
 romance," he said to himself, " most girls would 
 take to it without protest." While he never thought 
 he would resort to this latter and more violent 
 measure, he resolved to do it if necessary. 
 
 Having kept to his room for the day, on the fol 
 lowing morning his chin being much better, the 
 swelling having subsided and the abrasion started 
 to heal, he started forth to carry out the first part of 
 his scheme. He might have waited for his chin to 
 further heal, but he did not. Ordinarily a patient 
 man and willing to await the opportunity of cir 
 cumstance, yet in this matter he lost his usual dis 
 cretion. He would call on the Abbess. He would 
 plead for a chance to pay his attentions to the girl. 
 He would ask to see the girl. Inspired by her 
 presence he would plead his cause with an energy 
 that would be convincing. He would expatiate on 
 the advantages of wealth, he would make word 
 pictures of a future which the fancy of any young 
 girl could not resist. These thoughts consumed 
 him, as he walked along toward the convent. He 
 boldly walked up to the entrance and pulled the 
 knocker. The door opened. A nun admitted him 
 and inquired his business. 
 
 " I would see the Abbess," he said.
 
 266 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The nun left to summon her, while he dropped 
 into a seat in the corridor. A few minutes later, 
 the interval had been used by Durand to brush 
 up his eloquence, thinking what he would say, the 
 Abbess appeared, followed by the same nun who 
 had admitted Durand, and who remained during 
 the interview. 
 
 As the Abbess s glances fell on Durand a great 
 whiteness overspread her face. She bowed her head 
 before him and looked at the floor. 
 
 "What would you with me?" 
 
 He was a bit flustered in the presence of the holy 
 women. He stammered as he answered, " My name 
 is Durand, Herbert Durand." 
 
 She cringed as he mentioned his name. There 
 was no attempt then to disguise his right name. 
 She marveled at his boldness in using his own 
 name, knowing the extent of his crimes so well. 
 
 " I come to see you on important matters," he 
 said. Without raising her eyes, she answered, 
 " You may state them." 
 
 His courage rose. " You have a girl, a young 
 lady here, I think. Her name I do not know. I 
 saw her with you one day. You will remember 
 me. Do you not ? " 
 
 " Yes," came the faint reply, " I remember you." 
 
 " I will be frank indeed as is my nature, Abbess. 
 There are many foolish notions that enter the minds
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 267 
 
 of people. These come oft to the young. I am 
 no longer of the callow age, and yet I tell you that 
 on the day when I saw this beautiful young woman 
 with you, I fell in love with her. This passion I 
 have not experienced before. So at my age and 
 considering that I have never felt this before, my 
 declaration should carry much weight." He waited 
 for an answer. None came. He continued, " That 
 a disparity exists in our ages is true. A mature 
 mind, however, provided that mind has been well 
 nurtured in goodness and sobriety can but have an 
 elevating effect on a young lady. If I speak ard 
 ently or am presumptuous it is because a passion 
 within prompts or speaks in my stead. Abbess, I 
 would that you consent that I pay attention to this 
 young lady. Before you answer, consider well what 
 the effect of that answer may be on our future. 
 Consider the future of this girl. Consider even 
 your servant before you who asks for himself that 
 his great desire go not unsatisfied." 
 
 The Abbess was as yet sjlent. Durand, believ 
 ing that his eloquence must be moving her, con 
 tinued. " Another thing, Abbess, another thing. 
 You will pardon me for mentioning it, yet why 
 not, for it is vital. I am rich. Your ward with 
 me would have all the advantages that wealth could 
 procure, all the desires of her heart would be 
 satisfied, all her days made glad."
 
 268 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 For the first time, the Abbess made answer to 
 his plea. She had stood all this time with bent 
 head. This was for a purpose, but he attributed it 
 to a sort of self-sanctity or abnegation of the order 
 which compelled it. So he divined not that she 
 was concealing her face, lest he recognize her. 
 
 Her answer was. " Money can do much, much 
 wickedness is done to procure and enjoy it. Yet 
 does one justify the other?" 
 
 Her answer was a sort of enigma to him and he 
 made no effort to solve the question she had asked. 
 Rather he took up her statement that money can do 
 much and proceeded. " Money can do much. It 
 is the source of happiness, the goal of life." His 
 sophistry led him on. " It brings greatness. It 
 brings fame. In the story of the Bible we find 
 Solomon especially mentioned, and for what ? Was 
 it his wisdom that gained this consideration? No, 
 for the space used to tell of his wisdom is small, 
 while that used to tell of his wealth is spacious. 
 Here indeed is an exemplification of the point I 
 would make. You see it, don t you?" 
 
 " Not exactly as you do," said the Abbess evas 
 ively." 
 
 " Then, Abbess, I will go further. I will appeal 
 to you as a woman, rather than one of Holy Orders. 
 There are many things in life you as an inmate here 
 have been denied, a home, a husband, children
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 269 
 
 and the joy of rearing them. Would you deny 
 your ward this? " 
 
 Durand paused, surprised at his own eloquence 
 and the ability he displayed in pictorial argument, 
 in expressing sentiments that were foreign to his 
 nature. 
 
 The Abbess stood as one petrified. She would 
 hear him out, she thought, before answering him. 
 As he finished his last appeal, she waited to see if he 
 had finished and as he did not continue she spoke. 
 " God forbid that I should stand between the girl, 
 and a pleasant future, yet you have asked my con 
 sent to pay her addresses without knowing her name 
 or anything of her past. Would you care to know ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Durand believing the Abbess was 
 granting him favor and his case was clear. " I 
 would that you tell me her name and of her past." 
 
 The Abbess raised her face and looked him 
 squarely in the eyes. " Her name is Olive James. 
 As to her past, she was robbed in infancy by Her 
 bert Durand, the man who now would wed her. 
 Would you know more of my past ? If so, my name 
 was once Helen Reed." 
 
 He never faltered as this woman looked upon 
 him. Had he been different, a pure and holy wo 
 man s gaze would have dispelled the evil in him, 
 even if temporarily, and made him truthful, but 
 not he. Unflinchingly he looked her in the eye,
 
 270 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 and said : " Olive James was kidnapped. I 
 searched for her. I found the child had been placed 
 in a convent. She was dead. I searched for you 
 to inform you of this, but you could not be found." 
 
 " Indeed," said the Abbess. " She was abducted 
 by your orders that you might gain her wealth. 
 For this same reason she was placed in a convent 
 and by your orders. The register was falsified by 
 your emissaries to read that she had died. This 
 gave you her money, at least you kept it. The 
 woman who did your bidding was the one who gave 
 the coins to my children a few days since as we 
 returned from yon Mount. I did not scrutinize 
 her then, although I did you, but I recall her yellow 
 hair as belonging to the woman who followed Olive 
 and I the day she was abducted. It is time for you 
 to retire as your perfidy, known to me, forfeits any 
 right to pay Olive your attentions." 
 
 " Abbess," he said, " I swear to you I am not 
 guilty as you accuse." 
 
 " Nay," she said, " swear not, nor call upon God 
 to witness your lie, for lie it is. Be gone, sir." 
 
 Those most arrogant are always sure of the gul 
 libility of others. Durand was not baffled. He had 
 been much surprised at the turn of things, but his 
 training and nature stood him in good value, and he 
 appeared unruffled at the sudden revelation that in 
 this girl he loved was returned the one who had
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 271 
 
 been the victim of his former pilferings. He had 
 met it calmly as any cold-blooded villain might, 
 and now after lying to the Abbess and denying 
 that he had abducted Olive or been responsible for 
 it, he thought it best to change his tactics. As we 
 said, in his conceit he never thought the Abbess 
 would suspect his next move. He argued that her 
 religious inductions were such that her judgment 
 might be hampered. He would lie to her again, this 
 time successfully. 
 
 " Abbess/ he said meekly, " why I just lied 
 to you, I do not know, yet I confess I did, for I 
 was responsible for the girl s abduction. I did it 
 all. I plead guilty. Never until now have I known 
 a pleasant moment since then, a moment devoid of 
 conscious pangs of guilt. My story is a strange 
 one, yet tis true. For many years I have been in 
 search of the girl that I might repair the damage 
 done her, that I might make reparation for my sin. 
 Search where I could, I did not find her. On a 
 most slight clue I came here. My search was re 
 warded." 
 
 " And the blonde woman, she too helped in the 
 search?" 
 
 " Aye, she did," said Durand boldly and unmind 
 ful of the insinuation of the Abbess. " She came 
 to assist in establishing the identity of the girl, 
 should I find her."
 
 272 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Yes," said the Abbess, as if to draw him on. 
 
 " I have been in this city many months," said 
 Durand. " Some time ago I discovered Olive. I 
 have followed her about and in the times I have 
 seen her I have learned to love her. The meeting 
 the other day when the coins were distributed was 
 not accidental. It was by design. We knew you 
 were up in the mountains. As I have said I came 
 here to make reparation. I end by falling in love 
 with the object of my former sin, whom now I 
 would make the beneficiary of my sober thoughts 
 and good and anxious desires, and restore to her 
 her own. I would repay all money her due, and ask 
 her to be my wife. Until now I intended wooing 1 her 
 as an unknown and afterwards tell her of my 
 identity. But you remembered me, making this im 
 possible. Now I confess to all you accuse me of, 
 and I come penitently and contritely into your 
 presence, asking that my suit may have your sanc 
 tion." 
 
 " It has it not," said the Abbess, speaking with 
 some heat. " Your confession is true, but your con- 
 triteness is a lie and an addition to your plot since 
 you found out the identity of the girl you claim to 
 have loved at first sight, a love that is probably 
 only an unholy passion at the best." 
 
 " Then you refuse me my request ? " 
 
 "Yes, decidedly."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER 273 
 
 He picked up his hat and started to withdraw. 
 
 " Woman," he said, " woman, I outwitted you 
 once and took this girl. I will do it again," and 
 by way of emphasis he swore a great oath as he 
 withdrew. 
 
 The Abbess and nun crossed themselves as he ut 
 tered the oath. By way of revilement he made 
 the sign of the forked tail. The women did not 
 understand this, and they thought it a mockery of 
 their sign of the cross, or a token in revilement of 
 the same. 
 
 The Abbess turned to the nun with her. 
 
 " You may tell Olive I will see her here at once. 
 She is out in the garden somewhere." 
 
 A little later the Abbess and Olive were in the 
 latter s room. The Abbess commenced thus. 
 " Olive, you have never asked me concerning your 
 parents. You know naught of them, save what I 
 have volunteered." 
 
 " No, mamma," she said. This name was only 
 spoken when the two were alone. " I often wonder 
 concerning myself and my parents. I would like 
 to know of them. Tell me, if you will." 
 
 Then the Abbess told her every detail of her 
 past life so far as she knew it, told her of her 
 father, of the love affair that was between them, 
 and how they had parted, but omitting to give the 
 reason. Of her mother, the Abbess knew little, save 
 18
 
 274 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 that she was rich, and died leaving her husband a 
 large fortune. Then she told of the father s death, 
 of his friend, one Herbert Durand, who had been 
 his friend and was made the custodian of the wealth 
 that fell to Olive. She traced every event from that 
 time down to the present with minute precision, 
 ending up by telling her that the man they had seen 
 in the company of the woman who had thrown the 
 coins to the children was none other than this man 
 Durand. She mentioned his visit of this day and 
 the object of that visit. 
 
 As she mentioned that Durand wished to court 
 her, Olive shuddered. " Not him, not him, 
 mamma," she gasped. 
 
 The Abbess said, " For a long time I have felt 
 I owed you this explanation, and I have refrained 
 from telling you for the reason of the money that 
 awaits you in New York or those securities I left 
 there so many years ago. I wanted you to grow up 
 in ignorance of the fact that you were rich. I be 
 lieved it might warp your mind and alter your 
 propensities. Now the time seemed propitious, and 
 so I tell you. Besides you will soon be twenty- 
 one and can possess this money that awaits you." 
 
 Here she handed Olive a well-worn receipt, yel 
 lowed with age, the receipt she had received from 
 the bank for the securities so many years ago. 
 
 Olive took it, looked it over as in a dream, and
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 275 
 
 then put it in her bosom, placed her arm about the 
 Abbess s neck and kissed her. " I am so glad, 
 mamma, I am rich, for I can help you with your 
 work here in the future." 
 
 " But you are not a Catholic? " 
 
 " No, but I will help you just the same." 
 
 " Oh," the Abbess said, " if there were only some 
 good man in whose care I could place you, it would 
 help me just now. Mr. Graham is dead, I have 
 learned from a New York paper. Now none alive 
 so far as I know is aware that I ever lived or 
 that you have existed, but the receipt will satisfy 
 that point." 
 
 Olive started. " Who is dead? " she asked. 
 
 " Mr. Graham ; he was the president of this 
 bank." 
 
 " Oh," said Olive. But she did not mention the 
 young man who bore the same name. 
 
 " If," the Abbess continued, " I could only find 
 some man who could be trusted I would have him 
 look after you and your affairs."
 
 276 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE night Graham had visited Olive in the 
 garden, his parting had been so precipitous that he 
 had forgotten to speak of a future meeting. Best 
 questioned him about it and learned the facts. 
 
 " Say," said Best, " if I have to make the dates 
 for you I may decide to take a hand in the court 
 ing on my own account. Well, this means that 
 Francisco has another job that will not tax his 
 memory." 
 
 "What?" asked Graham. 
 
 " Well, don t you know if Francisco forgets to 
 lock the gate it does not mean he has to remember, 
 for you know his memory is very poor, very poor." 
 
 " I don t like this," said Graham. " I am afraid 
 that others beside this man Durand might invade 
 the garden and our secret be made known to the 
 Abbess." 
 
 Best replied : " I will admit that garden parties, 
 even with only two in a convent garden, are rather 
 ticklish affairs. Say, Harold, why don t you and 
 the girl go for a drive?"
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 277 
 
 " Durand may have notified the Abbess of our 
 meeting." 
 
 " Well, we can try again and find out." 
 
 The following day another five francs found its 
 way into old Francisco s pocket and another note 
 was delivered to Olive. That night the two men 
 drove along down the Rue Victor Hugo, made a 
 turn or two, and finally stopped at a corner next 
 below the convent. Graham alighted and walked 
 slowly up the street toward the gate, by which he 
 had gained admission to the grounds before. He 
 was more discreet this time, as the advent of Du 
 rand had increased his desire that none observe him. 
 He walked up and down several times before he 
 put his hand to the gate. Each time he scanned 
 the palms and mangoes that lined the walk to 
 see that no one lurked behind them. An electric 
 light from the street corner above shed its 
 light dimly upon the scene. After he had walked 
 the distance so many times he thought he must be 
 quite alone. Best was driving the horse up and 
 down the street below, visible to Graham as he 
 crossed the intersecting street above the convent. 
 
 He quickly and boldly walked to the gate and 
 opening it stepped inside. Making his way to 
 the place he had met Olive before, he was glad to 
 see her white dress even before he was close to 
 her. Her presence assured him that the Abbess
 
 278 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 was still unaware that love-making was now an 
 addition to the curriculum of the convent. They 
 greeted each other pleasantly, without any show of 
 the affection that both felt so keenly. 
 
 Let it be said that Olive, though unsophisti 
 cated in love affairs more than anything else per 
 haps, had a discernment that easily saw in Gra 
 ham sterling worth and character with which the 
 heroes of the stories she had read were endowed. 
 While from the first she had in her heart a bit of de 
 sire for a small romance, yet she had found on their 
 short acquaintance that Graham was ever in her 
 mind. She was not foolish enough to be completely 
 infatuated with a man whom she had seen but thrice 
 and spoken with twice, yet she felt a desire to know 
 him better, and out of necessity she had concluded 
 to see him secretly. Why not? He was a man 
 to be trusted and she was no weak girl. Francisco 
 had given her the note just before the Abbess had 
 summoned her, and with a fast-beating heart she 
 had answered it, believing the Abbess knew of 
 Graham s visit to her. She was therefore sur 
 prised when the Abbess did not mention this, but 
 something else of importance to her. 
 
 When the Abbess had expressed a desire to know 
 a good man to whom could be entrusted Olive s 
 affairs, she naturally had thought of Graham and 
 hoped that affairs would shape themselves in his
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 279 
 
 favor. Yet she resolved not to tell him of the 
 dowry that awaited her, at least not yet, nor of 
 Durand s request to pay her homage. Afterwards 
 she read her note and waited for the hour to come 
 to go out and meet her lover. 
 
 She was in the garden and saw him pacing the 
 walk before he entered. She admired his figure, 
 even in the poor light. She admired his discretion 
 in making sure no one was in sight before he en 
 tered. She was thinking what a noble, painstaking, 
 careful young man he was, how modest and brave. 
 Surely he must also be good. His bravery she had 
 noticed when he tackled the eavesdropper, who 
 must have seen him enter and out of curiosity 
 followed on. Who was this intruder she was ask 
 ing herself, when she heard the slight click of the 
 gate, and Graham came toward her. 
 
 Graham explained to Olive that in view of the 
 prowler they had encountered before, it would be 
 better to drive about the city. For this purpose, he 
 explained his friend Best had the horse and cart 
 in readiness on the street below. To leave the 
 grounds at first frightened Olive, but the romantic 
 side of the drive about the city, the intoxication 
 of the Southern trade-wind that bore with it the 
 scent from a myriad of tropical plants and blos 
 soming trees served Graham s purpose, and she 
 quickly consented.
 
 280 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Going out the gate, they made for the corner 
 below. In passing down the long half block to 
 the corner they met a man whose figure Graham 
 felt sure was that of Durand. If it were he, he 
 appeared not to notice them, but had Graham 
 watched him he would have seen him turn quickly 
 once they had passed and ferociously look in his 
 wake, then step behind a tree to watch. But Gra 
 ham did not look back for the reason that he did 
 not wish to alarm Olive. She had not mentioned 
 the man they met and he would not. Once they were 
 away from the convent or outside its precincts 
 there was no cause for feeling timid, so they boldly 
 met Best, who stepped from the cart and handed the 
 lines to Graham. Best then found his way to the 
 Plaza hotel afoot where he sat on the veranda 
 again, and flirted with the women. Later he saw 
 Durand enter the hotel. 
 
 Durand had been watching that small gate of the 
 convent grounds every night since his encounter 
 there with Graham, with a vengeance born of jeal 
 ousy. His knowledge of these meetings between 
 Olive and Graham, he had this day concluded, was 
 the pivotal point of his suit. He had planned be 
 fore that should the Abbess refuse him his request, 
 he would have Olive in spite of her. 
 
 This night in question happened to be the one 
 following the day the Abbess had granted his in-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 281 
 
 terview and naturally he was sore and chafing from 
 her decision and her words of condemnation. He 
 had not arrived near the convent in time to see 
 Graham enter the gate, but he did see him and this 
 girl come forth and watched them go away with 
 the horse and cart which Best held in readiness. 
 
 He waited for them to return, but as they did 
 not come at once, he having perfected plans whereby 
 he expected to bring about what he wanted, retired 
 from the scene, and Best saw him as he returned. 
 
 Graham returned that night in great spirits. 
 Driving had solved the matter of how he was to 
 enjoy Olive s society. He did not like interviews 
 in the garden. There was about it a suggestion 
 of things not entirely decorous; there was about 
 it a suggestion of things clandestine, as he called it 
 to Best. Here in the city the populace drove much 
 by night, as the days are very hot, and they were 
 doing nothing extraordinary. It was a way out 
 that Graham enjoyed. In the absence of Best to 
 act as groom on his return, he had found a native 
 who held his horse while he escorted Olive back 
 to the convent gate, she asking him to go no further 
 as she was not afraid to go to the convent door 
 alone. 
 
 In both their hearts there was a song which 
 swung along to unspoken words, and with a rhythm 
 that was new and sweet. This drive with its new
 
 282 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 experiences, the fact they were together, talking 
 to one another was enough to satisfy both. Gra 
 ham had loved the girl from the start, and she now 
 was learning to care greatly for him. In fact this 
 night had revealed to her how much she cared. 
 Here were two level-headed young people fast taking 
 on enhancing love and respect for each other, with 
 never as yet a word of love breathed between them, 
 both content to let the affair take on its own 
 aspect, yet confident that in the end they would be 
 satisfied with the turn of fortune s wheel. Fate 
 was beckoning them on to the reward that would 
 be theirs, and they seemed to feel it and chafed 
 not under the delay. Many times Graham had 
 wanted to declare his love to the girl this evening, 
 yet had not done so by sheer force of will power, 
 for he felt it was not right to the girl, and more 
 over a travesty on the rules of a convent to win 
 a wife in spite of its brick walls and iron palings. 
 Nor was it fair to the Abbess. Then he argued, 
 why not see the Abbess? He would. Yes, in a 
 short time he would. 
 
 He had not forgotten to speak to Olive about the 
 next meeting, and it was arranged that on the fol 
 lowing night but one, they would again drive. Ac 
 cordingly on this night again, he and Best drove 
 into the city. Graham was in high spirits, while 
 Best not unmindful of this, asked him how much
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 283 
 
 longer the affair would continue in its present 
 status. 
 
 " It will soon change," Graham replied, as he 
 thought of his intention to soon interview the Ab 
 bess. 
 
 The affair did assume a different demeanor and 
 at once. He reached the convent grounds. He 
 met Olive in the usual place and the two quietly 
 moved toward the gate. Aside from salutations, 
 nothing had been spoken. Reaching the gate, Gra 
 ham opened it carefully, as he had been careful to 
 close it when entering. Olive stepped forward, he 
 following. As he reached the center of the gate, 
 his course was arrested. A hand shot out toward 
 him and a voice said, " Tit for tat, my young friend. 
 It is my turn this time." 
 
 The impact of the blow sent him backward to 
 the ground where he lay without moving. 
 
 The same strong hand was placed over Olive s 
 mouth, while an arm encircled her body. She was 
 picked from the ground and carried a distance 
 where her captor stepped into a waiting carriage, 
 with her still in his arms.
 
 284 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE night Graham and Olive took their first 
 drive Durand, as he entered the Plaza hotel, where 
 Best saw him, went at once to his room. He rang 
 the electric bell for a porter. The night porter he 
 had noticed was a man of forty-five, a light com- 
 plexioned native, who answered all calls promptly 
 and obeyed all commands with despatch. Not that 
 he had an inborn desire for work, but he did have 
 an inborn love for money that was given to him 
 as tips by the foreign visitors. These tips alone ac 
 counted for his active and servile inclinations. 
 
 Durand had need of some one who would serve 
 his purpose. This porter, Le Tosco by name, 
 seemed to him the first one he would consult, hence 
 the summons that brought the money-loving Le 
 Tosco to his room. 
 
 Le Tosco s avariciousness was no more a marked 
 quality in him than in a majority of the natives. 
 They developed these inclinations as a necessary 
 measure against the foreigners whose commercial 
 ism encroached upon the rights of the natives. 
 
 Durand knew of this inclination of Le Tosco s
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 285 
 
 and thought him a proper person to invest with his 
 proposed affairs. Durand had told the Abbess he 
 would yet defy her and have the girl Olive, and he 
 had concocted a scheme whereby this might be 
 effected. The knowledge that Olive took drives 
 with the young American, whose name he did not 
 know, had assisted him materially in laying out 
 this scheme. Le Tosco or some one Le Tosco knew 
 would furnish additional material while he, Durand, 
 would see to the rest. 
 
 Le Tosco obeyed the summons and appeared at 
 once. 
 
 " Is there anything you want, sir ? " said he in 
 the most suave of voices. 
 
 " Yes," said Durand, " there is much I want. 
 Sit down please," as he pointed toward a chair. 
 " I would talk with you." 
 
 Le Tosco obeyed. Looking up as he was seated, 
 he asked, " What is it, sir? I am waiting." 
 
 The fact was, Le Tosco s discernment, sharpened 
 by avarice, saw ahead possibilities of revenue. He 
 was not new to little jobs the guests wanted done, 
 nor averse to doing the jobs, providing the remuner 
 ation was sufficient. Such an one as he, about a 
 hostelry whose patrons were foreigners and bent 
 on personal enjoyment, was more or less a neces 
 sity, and Le Tosco realizing the chances, was al 
 ways ready.
 
 286 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Durand cleared his throat. 
 
 " The facts are. Le Tosco, I need help." 
 
 " Yes, monsieur," purred the wily porter, as he 
 drew his small fat figure together and twirled 
 violently upward the ends of his mustache. " Yes, 
 you wish something done." 
 
 " Exactly," replied Durand. " You have done 
 things for others before, evidently." 
 
 " Yes, yes," came the answer. " I know well 
 what it is to serve others. Besides, sir. I keep a 
 secret well. What I know or may learn is as se 
 cure as though it happened not at all." 
 
 " Good," said Durand. " You are the man I 
 want. By the way, are you married? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Good, it occurred to me you might not be, and 
 that would hinder my plans somewhat." 
 
 " I am married, sir, and live on the Rue St. 
 Peter, back toward the mountain, sir, and almost 
 out of the city." 
 
 " Good, all the better if it is far out." 
 
 " "What may I do for you, sir? Explain." 
 
 " Well," said Durand. " I want to know if I 
 can bring a young woman to your home, to remain 
 a few days. A wedding, too, will take place there 
 if you can find a missionary who will come and 
 perform the ceremony for us." 
 
 " Oh. yes." said Le Tosco, " many missionaries
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 287 
 
 from America and Europe come here in hopes of 
 making over this Catholic island. One can be 
 found no doubt." 
 
 " One thing more, Le Tosco; is your wife as tall 
 and muscular as the native women generally are?" 
 
 " Yes, she is very tall and strong, but why do you 
 ask?" 
 
 " Oh, this girl will try to get away perhaps." 
 
 " Then she will not want to stay with us? " 
 
 " That is it exactly. You see she is held at pres 
 ent by a person who pretends to be her friend. 
 Really I am her only true friend. She believes in 
 the other and will try to get away." 
 
 " My wife will keep her," said he. " We have 
 a room in which she can be kept locked until you 
 marry her." 
 
 " Which will be in a day or so, or as soon as she 
 consents, which she will when once she knows what 
 I can do for her." Such was Durand s conceit, 
 and his belief in the power of money. 
 
 " And monsieur, monsieur," meekly said Le 
 Tosco, " one thing you forget." 
 
 " What is that? " asked Durand. 
 
 " You say nothing of the pay we are to re 
 ceive? Such things as you require are mighty 
 ticklish you know. The police " 
 
 " Nonsense," broke in Durand. " There are no 
 police on this island worthy the name, but as for
 
 288 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 pay, don t worry. How would one hundred francs, 
 in a lump sum, suit you? " 
 
 " Ah, grateful, grateful, sir, would both my wife 
 and I be. You may feel secure that we are your 
 servants forever." 
 
 " Hold yourself in readiness then any night. 
 Have the room in order and your wife at home 
 waiting, for perhaps to-morrow night or the next 
 or the next we will come. By the way, Le Tosco, 
 I want you to tell me of a stable where I can get 
 a light rig and a driver who, like yourself, knows 
 how to keep silence. I want such a man as a 
 driver especially. I will bring the girl with a car 
 riage and I want such a man as I have named to 
 accompany me." 
 
 " I know the very man and the very stable," said 
 Le Tosco. 
 
 " Then engage him for every night as long as I 
 shall want him. He may call for me to-morrow 
 night at eight and so on until I get the girl." 
 
 As Durand and Le Tosco talked they heard the 
 sound of occasional deep inspirations as of one 
 breathing hard. As Le Tosco was about to with 
 draw, there came from somewhere the rustle of 
 silk as if a woman moved about near by. Durand 
 also heard, but presumed it to be some guest who 
 by accident was near his door at this time. 
 
 Thus Durand had perfected plans for controvert-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 289 
 
 ing the Abbess s authority. Now he was actuated 
 by a double purpose. He not only wanted Olive 
 because he fancied he loved her, but he liked not 
 this young lover of hers. " Suppose," he thought, 
 " that this young man wins her, and I fail. It may 
 please his fancy to make inquiry concerning my 
 stewardship of her estate. In that case it might 
 grow mighty uncomfortable for me. So get her I 
 must, if by force." He chuckled as he thought, 
 " She has been taken that way before." 
 
 He planned, if he could once get Olive in his 
 power, he as a man of age, experience and especially 
 wealth could easily influence her mind his way. 
 He would treat her with every respect due a young 
 woman ; he would use his eloquence effectively in his 
 own behalf, believing that cajolery when properly 
 presented, with the chink of gold accompanying, 
 would win her. That she might resent his method 
 of courtship he never considered, nor that she might 
 frown on him by reason of the great wrong he had 
 done her in the past. No, not he ; for would not the 
 money again be at his command? What more 
 could she want? When married they would leave 
 the island, forbearing the blessing of the Abbess, 
 he grinned taking the first steamer to any port its 
 destination might lead. Mademoiselle Sara would 
 not like it! Would she retaliate? She would know 
 nothing of the affair until it was over, and her re- 
 19
 
 290 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 venge would come too late. He would be care 
 ful, however, that she did not know. This grand 
 soiree of the Satanists with the marriage and the 
 accompanying feast he would give up witnessing. 
 They were holding their nightly meetings in prep 
 aration for the affair. Mademoiselle Sara was in 
 training as it were with her satellites for the affair 
 that was not far off. " Let them train," he solilo 
 quized, " I will train for something else, for the 
 model husband, perhaps." 
 
 The evening following Le Tosco s call on Du- 
 rand, saw Durand in the vicinity of the convent. 
 He had the carriage call for him at the Plaza. They 
 separated when near the convent, Durand alighting, 
 and bidding the driver stay near by. 
 
 For an hour or two Durand carefully patrolled 
 the vicinity ready to take to cover behind some 
 friendly tree, should any one appear, the driver 
 going aimlessly about, keeping all the while within 
 earshot or sight of the street corners above or be 
 low the convent. The quest was without fruit, and 
 Durand found himself obliged to abandon all hopes 
 of meeting Olive this night. Not daunted, how 
 ever, the next night he again took up the hunt 
 vigilantly, and waited. He took care that his horse 
 and the driver were on a corner farthest from 
 the corner where Graham had stationed his rig the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 291 
 
 night before, in fact Durand s man was on the 
 corner near the cathedral. 
 
 Looking down through the darkness between 
 the streets, he saw Graham come up carefully, beat 
 about the walk for eavesdroppers, and finally enter 
 the garden, going through the little gate Durand 
 had discovered a few nights since. 
 
 Motioning his driver to follow carefully, he 
 ran quietly down the street, keeping in the grass 
 that bordered the walk, so his footsteps would not 
 be heard. He was none too soon, for as he reached 
 the gate, the girl came out. She saw him, but aside 
 from her dismay that they were detected coming 
 from the convent ground, she felt no alarm at his 
 presence. These thoughts came to her momentarily. 
 Graham at once stepped out behind her. No sooner 
 did his feet touch the walk at her side than she 
 heard the stranger utter the words told in the 
 previous chapter, and saw Graham reel and fall 
 from the great blow dealt him. She was lifted 
 from her feet, a hand placed over her mouth and 
 she was taken to the carriage that drew up at the 
 curb, and the horses were sent forward at a rapid 
 pace. 
 
 She struggled to free herself, struggled to get 
 the hand from her mouth, but for the time was 
 unsuccessful. She saw they were nearing the light 
 below, and wondered in which direction they were
 
 292 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 going and why she had been captured. A great 
 fear shook her frame, not the fear alone that came 
 of this sudden attack or the sudden knowledge that 
 she was again abducted, but a great terror came to 
 her that this man she feared most was her captor, 
 was the man Durand. Her heart sank deep. Then 
 she made one mighty effort to free herself from 
 her abductor, and from the hand that made artic 
 ulation impossible. She was partially successful for 
 Durand was off his guard temporarily and a sudden 
 scream rent the calm night, a scream that carried 
 with it abject terror and fear. The scream, how 
 ever, was short and was broken off suddenly as 
 the hand again found her mouth. 
 
 A half minute later and she was conscious that 
 they were being pursued. She plainly heard the fall 
 of horse s feet behind and knew the horses attached 
 to the carriage in which she was a prisoner were 
 being urged faster by blows and loud words. 
 
 She wondered who the pursuer was. Graham 
 was probably unconscious. How her heart ached 
 for his safety. It could not be he. Then she 
 thought of Best, Graham s friend who was with 
 Graham s horse. He had heard her scream, he 
 had known something was wrong and was now in 
 pursuit. Would he overtake them ? Oh God ! 
 She hoped so. Better to die than be in Durand s 
 hands and power.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 293 
 
 So he wished to marry her, did he, and would 
 then steal her? In her heart there arose a great 
 hatred for this man. Marry him? Indeed she 
 would die first. 
 
 The race she knew was growing exciting. She 
 was held in her captor s arms and could see little 
 that was going on. Yet she could plainly hear the 
 beat of a horse s hoofs near at hand, and abreast of 
 them. Their driver gave out a great oath, and she 
 heard the swish of a whip through the air and knew 
 that her rescuer s horse had been struck a stinging 
 blow across the face. She heard the horse plunge 
 and rear at this. She heard the iron-shod hoofs 
 strike the pavement harshly, and out of unison with 
 its hoof beats when it was running. She also knew 
 Durand had two horses while her would-be rescuer 
 had but one. She knew from the absence of the 
 breathing that this horse also had lost ground tem 
 porarily. It was only temporarily, however, for in 
 a second she knew they were again abreast. Then 
 something happened. 
 
 A shot rang out. A shot, true and effectual, 
 from Best s revolver found its speedy way through 
 the shoulder of the horse next to his and into its 
 vitals. It reared high in the air and fell, rolling over 
 in the inextricable meshes of the harness and pulled 
 its companion down with it, where the two lay, 
 one dead and the other struggling violently.
 
 294 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The carriage stopped, so suddenly that the driver 
 flew out on the pavement, where he quickly regained 
 his feet. Durand with Olive still in his arms, how 
 ever, held to the wagon. Durand s strong arm 
 clutched the seat in front and saved them from a 
 fall. 
 
 It was as Olive surmised. Best leisurely driving 
 about, and waiting for Graham and Olive to ap 
 pear, saw the carriage come from the street he 
 expected them, and while curious he thought noth 
 ing of it until Olive s scream drew him on. There 
 was no other way, he thought, but for him to rescue 
 Olive. Graham might be dead. Any way he was 
 not there, and Best felt himself called upon 
 for heroic action. So he pursued, and having no 
 way whereby he might hope to capture Olive, he 
 thought of his revolver, as he rushed forward. 
 He seldom carried it, yet to-night he remembered 
 the trouble Graham had had a few nights before, 
 and saying nothing had placed it in his pocket, 
 thinking it might prove of assistance should any 
 thing contrary to their hopes and plans arise. 
 
 As he saw the dilemma in which he had placed 
 the abductor of Olive, he also saw his own position 
 was not entirely tenable. It was two to one he 
 knew, and while he had his revolver, yet the horse 
 was an impediment he did not like. He went 
 by them as the other horses fell, and slowing the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 295 
 
 momentum of his own horse, he turned about 
 quickly and at once was on the scene. 
 
 He saw the horses were still struggling; the 
 driver was down from the seat and was endeavor 
 ing to assist them to arise. Durand, he thought 
 it was, with the girl in his arms was already half 
 a block down the street, trying to run, now stopping 
 to shift his burden from one arm to the other, yet 
 withal making fairly good progress for one so 
 hampered by a dead weight, for Olive had fainted 
 in the mix-up that followed the fall of the horse. 
 Best knew not what to do with his horse should 
 he go in pursuit of the athletic fugitive and his 
 captive. No one happened to be near save several 
 native women who had rushed from their doors 
 at the commotion, and Best, as he hurriedly cast 
 his eyes about, longed for a friendly native with 
 whom he could trust the horse, for the horse must 
 hamper him should Durand essay to go through 
 gardens and unfrequented byways as he led the 
 chase. 
 
 Driving the horse up to one of the trees at the 
 wayside, he drew the line through the terret and 
 wound it about the tree, not waiting to even tie a 
 knot, trusting the few winds about the tree trunk 
 would be sufficient. This done he dashed down 
 the street in hot pursuit of Durand. The latter by 
 this time was fully two blocks away.
 
 296 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The area of St. Pierre was not large, so Best knew 
 he soon must have Durand at bay. He felt that 
 he was as well acquainted with the city as was 
 Durand, and that both knowing little about it, 
 Durand could not take advantage of any friend s 
 house. Best did not know of Le Tosco s waiting 
 home as a harbor for Olive. Durand, however, 
 as he ran, was at a great disadvantage, for besides 
 the burden in his arms he was, by force of circum 
 stances going in the opposite direction from Le 
 Tosco s home. In other words, he was going to 
 ward the water, rather than toward the mountains 
 in whose shadow the town reposed. 
 
 Best fast gained on Durand, and the latter saw 
 the necessity of subterfuge or trickery to gain the 
 vantage. He shot into a dark side-street, but kept 
 going himself, hoping the other would not see 
 the move. He was fast becoming winded. While 
 an athlete, yet he was unused to any violent exer 
 tion like this, and he hoped that should his pursuer 
 fly by this side-street, he could gain a few moments 
 perhaps in which he could lay down his burden 
 and himself rest. 
 
 In this he was disappointed for he saw Best turn 
 and come down this side-street after him. He 
 stepped behind a tree from where he watched for 
 Best to appear. As he saw Best he stepped forth 
 and ran again. A thought struck him. He ran into
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 297 
 
 a gateway and without waiting to ask admittance 
 crowded the door open with his body and was inside. 
 It was a mere hut into which he had interposed 
 himself \vith his burden. The locality was one 
 wherein live the poor native population. The street 
 was dark and the pursued again hoped here to Out 
 wit his pursuer in this darkness. He might, had 
 not circumstances interfered. Durand boldly 
 walked into the low, small room, and laid Olive 
 down upon the floor. She was commencing to re 
 vive he noticed. Then he looked about him and 
 saw two old people of black skins and open eyes 
 who stared at him hard, as if, their age forbidding 
 boldness, their gaze would make inquiry why the 
 intrusion. Durand saw their look and said, " This 
 young lady is ill. We were passing and I took 
 the liberty of coming in." 
 
 The aged man said slowly. " You are welcome, 
 sir. Can not we do something for the lady? A 
 little wine perhaps will bring her around." 
 
 He advanced and looked down in the face of the 
 girl. " My God," he exclaimed, " it is Olive, our 
 angel, she who brings in the good things from the 
 convent. Tell me, sir," he said, " why is she with 
 you ? She belongs at the convent where I am gar 
 dener." 
 
 Olive then opened her eyes and looked up. 
 
 " Francisco," she said simply. Before the old
 
 298 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 man could reply the door flew open and Best crossed 
 the threshold. He had heard the cry of the old 
 man. 
 
 " Ah," said Francisco as he recognized him, " you 
 are come, I am glad." 
 
 Best turned upon Durand. 
 
 " You are excused, sir. Please leave at once." 
 
 * I shall not," came the reply as he looked at 
 Olive yet stretched upon the floor. Here was a 
 prize he could not well afford to lose. A little 
 firmness he thought would put to flight the dignity 
 of the young man who commanded him. Making 
 a quick motion, Best drew the revolver from his 
 pocket. 
 
 "Go," he said, "before I kill you," and he 
 pointed toward the door. Durand cast one more 
 glance at the girl, and then at Best. He saw the 
 revolver pointed at his heart. From the gun he 
 looked at Best s eye. Its aspect was even more 
 dangerous than the gun. He walked to the door 
 and went out into the night.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 299 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DURAND left Francisco s somewhat baffled. He 
 was used to his own way, and it is not surprising 
 that he marveled that the fates for once had pre 
 vented him in his methods. He was quits at least 
 with this young man who had struck him the blow 
 on the chin when he was discovered in the convent 
 garden. He had returned blow for blow. Yet here 
 was another defender of the young lady, a glad 
 iator that he would now scheme to down. By the 
 candlelight in Francisco s cottage he had seen that 
 this new defender was none other than one he had 
 seen about the Plaza hotel, in fact the very one 
 who had assisted him up the portico that night 
 of his encounter with the other. He wondered 
 who they both were. He would take measures to 
 find out. Then in some new way he would humiliate 
 both. 
 
 As for the girl, he would have to let matters rest 
 for the present, yet he would possess her and by 
 some new scheme he would yet invent. He would 
 for the present abandon the idea of capturing her
 
 300 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 and keeping her in Le Tosco s home until he mar 
 ried her. He would yet discover some way more 
 feasible, more sure. It would be useless now to 
 attempt any capture again on these nightly drives 
 she and her lover were taking. This lover and his 
 friend would surely take precautions against an 
 other surprise. Could he stop these lovers in their 
 love-making and so allow his own chances no further 
 damage in that direction? Yes, he could. 
 
 To his sinister and evil mind, a way out of 
 every dilemma was forthcoming. He not only 
 could stop these lovers, but he would and effectually 
 too. 
 
 This communion with himself took place after his 
 return to his room from Francisco s cottage. He 
 had found his way back to the place where he had 
 left the driver trying to extricate the uninjured horse 
 from the tangle. He found he had led this one 
 back to the stable, had returned with help, and was 
 engaged in removing the dead horse. He had 
 promised to call at the stable in the morning and pay 
 for the dead horse, and then he made his way to his 
 room where now he soliloquized. 
 
 Ringing for paper and pen he sat down to the 
 small table in his room and penned the following: 
 
 "To the Abbess of St. Mary s Convent: By 
 reason of the knowledge of a secret, that preys upon
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 301 
 
 the writer s mind, and having at heart the interests 
 of the faith, I am compelled to send you this note. 
 By it I inform you that the rules of your institu 
 tion are being disregarded. In fact, love-making 
 is taking place under your very nose, and you know 
 it not. The girl Olive James has a lover who finds 
 his way through the little gate in the garden that 
 is left unlocked for his convenience, and the love- 
 making takes place in the convent garden or the 
 lovers drive about the city." 
 
 No name did he sign to it. 
 
 Summoning Le Tosco, he explained that for the 
 present he would not bring the girl to intrude upon 
 the hospitality of his home. Yet he would pay 
 well for the trouble to which Le Tosco s wife had 
 been put in arranging and preparing for the girl s 
 occupancy. He handed Le Tosco a gold piece of 
 generous denomination. One thing more, he had a 
 letter he would like Le Tosco to deliver in the morn 
 ing if he could find time. He would not trust to 
 the poor postal system of the city. Would Le Tosco 
 deliver it himself at St. Mary s convent next morn 
 ing, not giving his own name, nor telling who had 
 sent the note? Again a piece of money was brought 
 into play. Durand was generous in matters he 
 really desired. 
 
 Le Tosco would indeed do M. Durand s bidding.
 
 302 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 No one should learn from him aught of the source 
 of the letter, and if in the future M. Durand wanted 
 any assistance he could rely on the sagacity and 
 secrecy of his humble servant, Le Tosco. 
 
 A woman brushed past Le Tosco as he came from 
 the room. She beckoned him to follow her. He 
 entered her room. 
 
 " You have a message there," she said. 
 
 " Yes," he answered. 
 
 " Allow me to see it? " 
 
 " Nay I cannot ; it would not be right. M. 
 Durand just paid for my services and confidences. 
 He pays well." 
 
 " Exactly, and now I would hire you." 
 
 " Ah," he said, " that is different." 
 
 She handed him several five-franc pieces. From 
 his pocket he extracted the letter and handed it to 
 her, whereupon she read and returned it. 
 
 The following morning the Abbess received the 
 note. She had just finished a devotion when it 
 was handed to her. She sought the secrecy of her 
 own chamber and read it once and then read it 
 again. She cast it aside. 
 
 " An infamous lie," she said aloud, " Olive meet 
 ing a man in the garden at night. It is untrue. 
 Between those lines I read that this note is part 
 of a diabolical scheme of none other than Durand. 
 What the scheme is I cannot see, yet that it is part
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 303 
 
 of such a plan I am sure. Olive meeting men out 
 side indeed ! The child, while not in horror of men 
 as might be supposed of one reared here, yet 
 would never deceive me as this man charges. I 
 know she would not. I love her too much to be 
 lieve she would so deceive me and I will not believe 
 it any way. I shall not even speak to her of it." 
 
 The angelic face took on softer lines. " Yet this 
 has caused me to remember that Francisco is grow 
 ing old and may in his forgetfulness leave the gate 
 unlocked. I will speak to him about it, and in the 
 future we will make sure none enters the grounds, 
 for who knows but this Durand himself might elect 
 to invade the sacredness of this place." 
 
 Arising she made her way out and to the gar 
 den. Old Francisco saw her coming. He did not 
 enjoy her visit either. All the morning the re 
 membrance of last night s event was a thorn in his 
 side. Best had not explained to him anything of 
 the circumstances as to why a man should rush 
 into his home bearing Olive, and why Best a mo 
 ment later followed on and rescued her, at the point 
 of a gun. Yet he felt that his acceptance of a bribe 
 to leave the gate unlocked, implicated him deeply. 
 He was very sober. He had hoped Olive might 
 explain to him later, but he had not seen her yet. 
 When he saw the Abbess coming toward him, he 
 grew very nervous. She must know all and now
 
 3 o 4 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 was coming to upbraid him for his neglect or his 
 perfidy in accepting bribes. 
 
 She came close to him. He did not raise his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Good morning, Francisco," she said. 
 
 He returned her salutation, keeping at work, how 
 ever, with his hoe. 
 
 "Is not the work growing hard for you?" she 
 asked. " You are growing old." 
 
 It was coming, he felt. She was taking this way 
 to get rid of him as gardener. 
 
 " No," he said, " I am old, but yet able to care 
 for the grounds. A little lameness and stiffness in 
 the joints are the only manifestations of my age 
 that interfere with me." 
 
 "How about your memory?" the Abbess asked. 
 
 Now was the time, he thought, she would mention 
 his leaving the gate unlocked. " My memory is 
 not as good as it was once, Abbess, yet very good 
 for one of my age." 
 
 " Do you forget to lock the little gate by which 
 you enter and depart?" It had come. His heart 
 sank. He would not tell an untruth to this holy 
 woman of his Church. He would, however, pro 
 ceed carefully. 
 
 " I may," he said, " I may, but who does not at 
 times forget? " 
 
 " True," she said, " we all do, yet, Francisco, I
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 305 
 
 would that in the future you look very carefully 
 at the gate and make sure you lock it when you 
 leave." 
 
 " I will, Abbess. I will. Each night I will think 
 that you have mentioned it and it shall be locked." 
 
 She withdrew. 
 
 He looked after her and wondered why she had 
 thus spoken of this gate. She did not know of 
 course of what had been going on. It was merely 
 precautionary he thought, although he did not 
 know it by that word. 
 
 A little later Best came along the walk. Fran 
 cisco saw him before he saw Francisco. The old 
 man looked down at the ground. Best coughed 
 to attract his attention, but the old man did not 
 notice it. Best spoke to him. No answer was 
 returned. There must be something wrong, Best 
 thought. Did the Abbess know of the escapade of 
 last night, and had she found out the part Francisco 
 played in it ? He thought it probable. Graham had 
 wanted, after the disastrous attempt of the night 
 before, to see Olive again this evening and take the 
 promised drive. Best, as his emissary, carried a 
 note for her, to be given to Francisco, but the old 
 negro would have none of him. The night before 
 he and Olive had walked back to the convent, care 
 fully avoiding pedestrians ; indeed there were few 
 in this part of the city and this made it easy. 
 20
 
 306 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Leaving Olive at the gate, which they found 
 closed and no trace of Graham, proving he was 
 yet alive and had gone elsewhere for safety, Best 
 went to the place where he had tied the horse and 
 found it intact. He knew Graham would go to the 
 Plaza Hotel, their usual waiting place, rather than 
 attract attention by staying near the convent. So 
 toward this place he directed the horse, and found 
 Graham as he expected. 
 
 After the fruitless visit to Francisco, he again re 
 turned to the plantation of Graham and reported the 
 conditions he had found. Together they tried to un 
 ravel the tangle, tried to reason why Francisco had 
 changed. Could the Abbess know? If she did, 
 then who had told her, and what was to be done? 
 The gate and Francisco had been to them a chan 
 nel upon which reliance had been placed. Now it 
 had failed. 
 
 " Did you ever arrange any signals with Olive 
 that you could use in case anything happened like 
 this?" asked Best. 
 
 " No," said Graham. 
 
 " Never mind," said Best, " we have outdone 
 first the vigilance of the Abbess, then Durand, and 
 we will not give up yet. We will invent some way 
 of gaining an interview with Olive, and perhaps 
 you may again enjoy those drives." 
 
 Graham went about his duties on the plantation
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 307 
 
 after lunch with a heavy heart. The promise of 
 his friend had little weight with him. Did the 
 Abbess know? Then she would resent his manner 
 of courtship and would keep him and Olive apart. 
 Francisco at least had altered his course in the mat 
 ter, and that alone, even if the Abbess did not 
 know, was sufficient to block proceedings. His 
 cloud for the time being had no silver lining. 
 
 On the plantation was a workshop where tools 
 of all descriptions for the repairing of fences, 
 buildings and machinery \vere preserved. Best 
 for a time sat on the veranda smoking his after- 
 dinner cigar, thinking and meditating how he could 
 assist his friend out of the present dilemma. He 
 thought himself particularly to blame for it inas 
 much as he had first proposed these meetings in 
 the garden ; had himself bribed Francisco that these 
 meetings were made possible. 
 
 Had he waited, he thought, some other way for 
 Graham to meet Olive might have presented itself. 
 He admitted to himself that his love for things 
 original and extraordinary prompted him in all this. 
 Now his friends were deep in the matter, had fallen 
 in love he believed, although Graham had said little 
 of this, and it w r as for him to clear up the present 
 situation. He betook himself to the workshop and 
 there toiled for a couple of hours. He viewed his 
 workmanship with satisfaction, and took it with
 
 308 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 him to the veranda where he waited for Graham to 
 return. He said, " Well, Harold, will we go to St. 
 Pierre to-night ? " 
 
 " No, I think not. Why should we? " 
 
 " Well," said Best, " I have discovered a plan 
 that is better than digging for francs in moles 
 holes." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 Then he outlined his scheme. 
 
 " It looks good," said Graham, as he finished. 
 " We will try it." 
 
 Graham had brooded much that day and now was 
 most willing to clutch at any straw that might again 
 restore the meetings with Olive. " If it is true the 
 Abbess has learned of our meetings and has taken 
 Francisco to task for his part in the program, then 
 if this works we will have her outwitted soon ; that 
 is, if I see Olive to-night." 
 
 " You will see her, my man, don t worry."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 309 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN the evening they drove to St. Pierre again, 
 this time with a more commodious carriage. There 
 was use for the larger vehicle, for in the interior 
 was placed a light and fragile ladder, made dex 
 terously from the cane-stalk, a ladder that while it 
 lay in the wagon was not over six feet in length 
 and was really a double ladder, or two fastened to 
 gether at the tops. The rungs were of the same 
 material, and secured with light wire so as not to 
 reduce the strength. There was also another rect 
 angular shaped article, paper covered, and with a 
 paper tail, a kite in fact. Both were the handiwork 
 of Best, and were accessories to his scheme as out 
 lined to Graham. 
 
 It was nightfall when they started. They wished 
 none to observe them, at least not to see these art 
 icles in the wagon; for some inquisitive one, even 
 in that city of free movement and freer morals 
 might suspect their intentions. 
 
 It was late when they entered the city, nearly 
 nine o clock in fact. This suited their purpose
 
 310 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 as they wanted the street as deserted as possible. 
 They first drove by the convent. Not a light 
 shone, not a soul was awake so far as they knew. 
 Fortunately the light on the corner near the cathe 
 dral was not burning. This suited them, for the 
 less light the better, and the one below was shaded 
 by trees. 
 
 A little below the convent garden, the horse 
 was reined in next the curb. Without speaking 
 Best alighted and took from the wagon both kite 
 and ladder, and deposited them under a tree. He 
 then whispered to Graham, " All right, go ahead. 
 Come back in thirty minutes and I think the lady 
 will be waiting for you." 
 
 Without replying, Graham drove off, while Best 
 busied himself first with the kite, leaving the ladder 
 for later expediencies. From his coat pocket he 
 took a large ball of fine strong cord, and attached 
 this to the kite. Unwinding quite a quantity, a 
 hundred yards perhaps, he took from his pocket a 
 short piece of the same cord, some three feet long. 
 At one end of this cord were tied two or three nails. 
 The end opposite the nails he tied around the cord 
 attached to the kite, tying carefully so that it would 
 not slip. From his pocket he again took another 
 cord of the same length as the last one. Then he 
 reached into his inside pocket and took from it a 
 letter. Using his knife, he stuck the blade through
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 311 
 
 a corner of the envelope, and with the point of -the 
 knife worked the end of this cord through the slit 
 he had cut. Then he tied this around the main 
 string a few feet back of the nails. He knew when 
 planning this that the winds blowing in from the 
 ocean would assist, indeed would make his scheme 
 possible. Now with satisfaction, he noted the wind 
 was blowing strong inland. Glancing up and down 
 the street in either direction, he carefully raised the 
 kite and shook it to the breeze. It fluttered. He 
 jerked on the cord to help in maintaining its as 
 cendency. Slowly it arose. The wind once under, 
 it raised it fast. It soared out over the convent gar 
 den steadily, and as Best played out the cord it 
 continued to rise. 
 
 " About enough line out, I guess," he said aloud. 
 He heard the sound of some one walking. Hur 
 riedly he looked about and saw, by the light, two 
 men turn the corner below. What should he do? 
 Hastily he wound the cord about the paling of the 
 fence, and walked toward them. Passing them, he 
 waited until they disappeared above, when he came 
 back. The kite was still suspended as he left it, 
 so far out that the cord hung from it to the earth 
 at an angle of forty-five degrees. Untying it, he 
 walked up the street so that the cord suspended 
 just touched the end of the convent roof. By the
 
 312 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 white letter that floated above, he knew the loca 
 tion of the nails. 
 
 The end window of Olive s room he located with 
 his eye. Carefully he drew in the cord so that the 
 nails would, he judged, be on a level with the pane. 
 From right to left he oscillated the cord so that 
 the nails swung back and forth, each time hitting 
 the pane. He did this several times. Then he 
 heard the window softly raised. He kept on agi 
 tating the cord so that the girl s attention would be 
 drawn to it, that she might see the cause of the 
 noise she had heard. 
 
 For the darkness he could not see her hand ex 
 tended toward the cord, but a moment later he felt 
 it grow taut in his hand, as though interfered with, 
 and knew she had detected the summons and its 
 message. He hauled in the kite, winding up the 
 cord as he did so, and found the letter gone. Then 
 he sat down and laughed. 
 
 " When I left New York the people were aston 
 ished at the discovery of wireless telegraphy. I can 
 lay no claim to priority of invention, or to much 
 genius, yet I have solved the problem myself." 
 
 Some few minutes later he saw Olive come from 
 the convent and approach the gate. The note then 
 he had transmitted was responded to, for it merely 
 asked her to again come to the garden gate, and at 
 once. Best gathered up the kite and walked down
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 313 
 
 to the gate in question. There he met Olive. 
 He explained to her that Graham was near by, 
 and of the ladder he had brought that she might 
 get over the fence. 
 
 Making sure no one was approaching, he procured 
 the double ladder and swung one end over the 
 fence. Grasping it firmly he told her to mount. 
 Upon coming to the apex, he instructed her to place 
 one foot around and on the other side which he 
 held, and then to swing her body around and de 
 scend. This she did. " Good," he said, as she 
 touched the ground. " You are a girl well worthy 
 the efforts of an inventor." She did not under 
 stand this. 
 
 " Love laughs at locks," said Best, " especially 
 when love has an assistant as worthy the name as I. 
 I planned the kite and ladder." In the dark, Olive 
 blushed at the word " love." 
 
 Graham turned the corner below just then, and 
 they walked down and met him. Olive and Gra 
 ham drove away together. Best in a low tone said, 
 " Arrange signals and plans so that you may meet 
 even if Durand and the Abbess together interfere. 
 My inventive power is already exhausted." 
 
 He tore the kite in shreds and strewed it in the 
 road, knowing if its identity was discovered, its 
 use would be in the dark. The ladder he managed 
 to secrete in the brandies of the very tree that had
 
 3H THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 been used by Durand twice as a hiding place, the 
 thick foliage concealing it completely. " As I will 
 not be needed here for an hour and a half," the 
 time he and Graham had agreed upon, " I will go 
 to the Plaza hotel and make eyes at the passing 
 feminine show until I am called back here to again 
 assist in a certain feminine aerial feat," he said as he 
 glanced at the fence over which Olive would again 
 climb when she returned to the convent. 
 
 Graham and Olive were much pleased that they 
 could again be together. They laughed at the 
 manner which had been employed to gain the meet 
 ing. 
 
 " Best is a wonderful planner and is generally 
 right in what he does or says," Graham said. 
 
 " Yes," said Olive. " I don t doubt it." There 
 came to her mind what he had said of love and she 
 blushed again, but he did not see it. She added, 
 " He is very brave too. My rescue last night was a 
 wonderful exhibition of bravery." 
 
 " Were you not frightened ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, very much. I fainted and knew little of 
 what was going on until I found myself in Fran 
 cisco s cottage." 
 
 " You were not harmed of course. I should 
 never forgive myself had you been." 
 
 " No," she said, " I was not seriously hurt, just 
 frightened."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 315 
 
 " It was very bad at that," he said. " I regret 
 the interference and the plight and danger your 
 acquaintance with me has brought." 
 
 " Oh," she said, " don t look at it in that way 
 On the whole I enjoy it." 
 
 " So do I," he said. 
 
 " Yes," she continued, " this stealing away from 
 the convent, these drives are new to me, and besides 
 I enjoy your society." 
 
 Then she knew this was bold and she regretted 
 the remark at once. However, he did not appear to 
 notice any boldness in this remark. Had he 
 known that when the summons from Best came, 
 she was yet undressed and crying over the fact that 
 she had not been permitted to see him the night be 
 fore, he would have rejoiced." 
 
 " You were injured by that evil man, were you 
 not?" she continued. 
 
 " Yes," he said, as he put his hand to a lump on 
 his forehead that, though somewhat diminished by 
 treatment of cold water, was yet prominent. He 
 laughed. " Yes, but he and I are even now, you 
 remember." 
 
 " I hoped at the time you were not seriously 
 hurt." 
 
 " Did you ? " he asked, his face close to hers. 
 
 * Yes," she answered fervently. 
 
 He was tempted to speak, to tell her of his love
 
 3 i6 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 here, for her declaration that she was afraid he was 
 injured at Durand s hand had fired him. Such an 
 expression, if mere politeness was implied, would 
 have passed unnoticed, but in her words was in 
 corporated more than politeness, earnestness and 
 affectionate consideration. He had noted this and 
 would have spoken had it not been for this. 
 First, he was discretionary. He had command of 
 himself, even in matters of love. All along he had 
 hoped for some chance to woo Olive other than the 
 way he was doing, and he had resolved not to de 
 clare himself until such time as he could do so in 
 the open, and with the full knowledge and consent 
 of the Abbess. Secondly, he felt that he was playing 
 this Abbess a mean trick. He had hoped she would 
 discover their secret before long. He realized that 
 the matter should not go on as it was. Olive had 
 been endangered herself; had been abducted, and 
 only escaped by a mere chance, thanks to Best. The 
 Abbess perhaps even now might know this, and 
 would never consent to his suit. Yet he would 
 that something might happen to change the status 
 of things, so he might be able to speak his love, but 
 he never would do this as long as they were meet 
 ing in secret. He had told Best this, and even Best, 
 the intrepid, agreed with him. So he spoke no 
 words of love, the words he held back by sheer 
 force of will.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 317 
 
 He called her " Olive " now. He had asked for 
 this privilege and it had been granted. " Olive," 
 he said, " there is one thing I wish to tell you." 
 
 Her heart fluttered at this, for she expected then 
 and there a declaration. What should she say? 
 Aye, she felt what the answer would be, must be, 
 did he tell her of his love, but she hoped he would 
 not, at least not then. Like Graham she longed for 
 a chance to open her heart to the Abbess, longed 
 to tell her of the great light in her heart that over 
 whelmed her at present, to tell the Abbess that 
 the pith and rhythm of the song that echoed in her 
 soul at all times was love. But she had not, did 
 not dare to as yet, and yet she hoped the Abbess 
 might know, at least before Graham should tell 
 his secret which she knew he wished to speak. 
 
 But it was of other things he was to speak. " I 
 would speak to you about the man who has fol 
 lowed us about, who came into the garden that 
 night and who forcibly took you last night." 
 
 " Yes," she said, and she wondered if he knew 
 more of Durand than she did. 
 
 He went on. " His name is Herbert Durand." 
 
 "Yes," she said. 
 
 " Years ago he worked in the bank of which 
 my father was president." 
 
 Her heart gave a great bound. The speaker
 
 318 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 then was the son of the Mr. Graham the Abbess 
 had known. 
 
 " This Herbert Durand was employed there as 
 a clerk. Afterward he was made the custodian of 
 a large estate." 
 
 She trembled. It was her own story he would 
 tell. 
 
 " The proceeds of this estate he appropriated to 
 his own use, robbing a child, a little girl I believe, 
 who must be a woman now. No greater crime was 
 ever committed, save murder, than the robbing of 
 this little child, a crime that merits great punish 
 ment. Yet the plunderer of the innocent went 
 scot free after kidnapping and forever secreting 
 the little one." 
 
 " Forever, did you say? " 
 
 He did not notice this remark, but went on. " As 
 long as father lived he sought this man. At his 
 death I took up the search. I have found him and 
 I am now debating what can best be done in the 
 matter." 
 
 " What was the little girl s name? " she asked. 
 
 " I do not know, I do not remember. Only one 
 name stands out in this affair preeminently and 
 that the name of this villain Durand. But her name 
 is known at the bank where I can get it any time. 
 There are funds deposited there in her name I be 
 lieve, funds that in the years have enhanced in
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 319 
 
 value and are now worth a fortune. Funny I do 
 not know the girl s name, yet I don t know as I 
 have ever heard it." 
 
 Should she tell him she was the little innocent he 
 had mentioned? Should she tell him it was her 
 money in the bank ? Not yet, she thought. When 
 he should speak of his love would be time enough. 
 She would surprise him then. Besides the time 
 might be more opportune. Mayhap the Abbess by 
 that time would know. 
 
 " What about Durand? Are you going to molest 
 him?" 
 
 " Yes," he said. " To-day I called upon the 
 United States Consul for advice, but he is away, 
 but will be back in a day or two. Then I shall 
 see him and decide, upon his advice, the course to 
 pursue in moving against Durand." 
 
 " But," she faltered, " he has shown himself 
 dangerous. I am afraid for you if you should try 
 to molest him." 
 
 He looked at her closely. " I am pleased that 
 you are solicitous for my safety." She turned her 
 head away. " But I shall not fear him, so please 
 don t worry about me." 
 
 They were on the way back to the convent by 
 this time, and Graham allowed Olive to be escorted 
 from the corner below the convent back to the con 
 vent garden by Best, who was there in waiting.
 
 320 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Again Best assisted Olive over the fence, took down 
 the ladders and carried them to the wagon. 
 
 " I hope you have set the time for the next in 
 terview, Harold," he said, " so that the kite can be 
 dispensed with, and only the ladder used." 
 
 " By Jove, I never thought to mention a future 
 date, Frank. What a fool I was." 
 
 "Oh yes," groaned Best. "Blind to all out 
 ward things, blind to any and everything except 
 each other, and so taken up with love-making as to 
 forget to mention a future meeting. Were it not 
 for me, the wheels of the chariot of love would be 
 seriously blocked." 
 
 Olive in the meantime had worked her way 
 through the grounds toward the convent. She 
 had always come out and entered by the front or 
 main door. It was safer than the other doors, and 
 besides she knew the key was left in the lock and 
 to come out she had but to turn it and walk forth. 
 So to-night she made her way noiselessly up the 
 convent porch, which fortunately was always in the 
 shadow of the cathedral next above. 
 
 There was a window each side of the door and 
 through them she detected no light, yet as she 
 opened the door and stepped inside, she beheld the 
 figure of the Abbess, draped in her night-clothes, 
 holding in her hand a dim candle. For a moment
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 321 
 
 they looked into each other s eyes. The eyes of the 
 Abbess were penetrating. 
 
 " Is it you, Olive? Then you have returned. I 
 have awaited your coming for an hour." 
 21
 
 322 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE Abbess had not come upon Olive here by 
 accident. Then it must have been by design. This 
 was the case. When she read the note telling her 
 that Olive met a lover in the garden or went driv 
 ing with him in the evening, the Abbess did not be 
 lieve it, as we have stated; and further than to 
 increase the efficacy of Francisco s watchfulness, 
 she had done nothing in this direction. A turn 
 of circumstances ofttimes discloses facts that keen 
 perceptions overlook. It was a turn of this nature 
 that showed the Abbess her charge Olive undoubt 
 edly did have a lover and that she went out to meet 
 him, out from the sacred walls of a holy convent too, 
 where good works and love for the faith super 
 sede completely all love that is worldly. The turn 
 of circumstances that told the Abbess the contents 
 of the note was true was this. 
 
 On this night the Abbess, after her hour of vigil 
 and prayer, retired as usual. An hour later there 
 came a knock at her door. She arose and found a 
 waiting nun there who told her another nun was 
 ill and in great distress, ill with pains that were
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 323 
 
 excruciating and awful. The Abbess knew that 
 only one candle lighted the rooms of the nuns, 
 and that Olive enjoyed the privilege of having a 
 lamp, a privilege that frugality denied the nuns. 
 The Abbess made her way to Olive s room. She 
 knocked and no one responded. Thinking Olive 
 asleep she entered. She had been accustomed to 
 do this and at times she and Olive enjoyed little 
 visits, even when both were, by the rules of the con 
 vent, supposed to be asleep. As she entered, she 
 struck a match and lighted the lamp. Carefully 
 she glanced at the bed to see if she had awakened 
 Olive. Her eyes fairly started, for Olive was not 
 there. The bed had not been opened. She spoke 
 her name. " Olive, Olive," she said. No answer 
 came. Then she saw the note Olive had received 
 via the kite string. It lay where she had tossed it 
 earlier, never dreaming that eyes other than her 
 own would read its contents. The Abbess picked 
 it up and read : 
 
 " Dear Miss James : As our proposed meeting 
 last night did not materialize, by reason of outside 
 interference, will you kindly consent to come out 
 again to-night that we may enjoy the drive pro 
 posed for last evening? Come to the gate where 
 assistance will be given you to get outside. 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " HAROLD GRAHAM."
 
 324 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The Abbess clutched at her throat. Then it was 
 true. Olive went out to meet men, or a man and 
 drove about the city. She, the child of her adoption, 
 the object of her love and prayer. " Olive, Olive," 
 murmured the Abbess, " how could you do this 
 after my kindness and my love for you, after the 
 years of tender rearing through which I have 
 brought you, and you now defy my authority and 
 teachings; defy the authority and teachings of the 
 Church and the sacred convent in which and by 
 whose charity you have been reared. Oh ! Oh ! 
 To what depths have you sunk here in this immoral, 
 this devil scourged city. You go out to meet some 
 man, the man whom you only saw upon Mt. Pelee 
 the day of our picnic. That was scarcely a fort 
 night ago and now you are lovers. There must 
 be another too who interferes," as she glanced at the 
 note. " Aye, I know who that one is," as she 
 thought of Durand, " a villain. I would rather you 
 would die than fall into his clutches. You are ex 
 posed to the evil influence of evil men." And the 
 Abbess threw herself on Olive s cot and sobbed, 
 sobbed with more grief and anguish than ever before 
 in her life. For a time she lay thus, unmindful of 
 the suffering nun below, unmindful of anything 
 save that her ward had done exceedingly wrong, 
 and even now in her purity was exposed to the evil 
 intentions and passions of man. For a time her
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 325 
 
 grief was great. She marveled at Olive s deception, 
 her ingratitude, her unfaithfulness. Yet as she 
 thought, slowly over her there came a change. 
 
 Olive was no mere child. She herself had seen to 
 it that she had been instructed along lines that 
 would readily develop her womanhood. Then was 
 Olive not able to take care of herself, to withstand 
 temptation of the world she met outside the convent ? 
 Surely she was. The Abbess felt this was true. 
 
 Such was her great love for Olive that she could 
 condone the appearance of wrong in all Olive had 
 done. What of the deception and disobedience, 
 however? Well, these alone remained flagrant, yet 
 there might be mitigation for these, did she know 
 the whole circumstances. There must be mitiga 
 tion. She would not judge her wrongly until she 
 had heard Olive s story, until Olive had told her 
 all. 
 
 She arose from the bed, and leaving the note 
 still on Olive s table, took up the lamp and went 
 below to attend the sick nun. Her face was a little 
 paler perhaps, but the lines were a trifle softer, 
 the light then there a bit brighter. Why not? She 
 had conquered suspicion. She had already for 
 given Olive s offenses. Forgiveness is a cardinal 
 principle of the faith. Why not then the deeper 
 angelic expression on the face of the Abbess ? She 
 found the sick nun already relieved and left some
 
 326 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 directions regarding her further care, and passed 
 out of the room of the sick. 
 
 She went to the several doors of the convent that 
 opened outside and found only the main door un 
 locked. Olive then had gone out at this one. She 
 would wait her coming. She seated herself in the 
 corridor as far from the door as possible and waited. 
 An hour later a light hand on the door knob was 
 heard deftly turning it. 
 
 She saw Olive start when their eyes met. The 
 Abbess was cool and collected. Olive s eyes sought 
 the floor. She stood convicted before the Abbess, 
 convicted and trembling. The Abbess did not 
 speak. Anguish almost unbearable flooded Olive s 
 heart. Why, oh why did not the Abbess speak, 
 upbraid her, turn her forth, anything besides this 
 look? She was searching the girl s features for 
 evidence of wrong doing, for evidence of wilful 
 disobedience. The Abbess was fair-minded. She 
 could not detect any such look. 
 
 Olive stood there, glancing first at the Abbess 
 and then at the floor. She felt she could no longer 
 stand the ordeal. She must speak. " Mamma," 
 she cried, " speak to me." 
 
 The Abbess walked around her and fastened the 
 door Olive had not locked. Then she put her arm 
 around Olive s waist and whispered in her ear. 
 " Do not speak. None other here must know of
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 327 
 
 this. The discipline of the convent would be 
 ruined." 
 
 Together they silently walked up the stairway 
 and down the hall to Olive s room, treading as 
 softly as Olive would had she been alone, the Ab 
 bess as anxious as she that the matter might be a 
 secret between them. Inside Olive s room, the Ab 
 bess placed the light on the table and approached 
 Olive again, put her arm about her waist and drew 
 her toward the bed. Together they sat down on 
 the bed, the Abbess s arm yet about the girl. 
 
 The Abbess was first to speak. " Olive dear, 
 tell me all about it. Tell your mamma all about 
 it." 
 
 The tones in which the words were delivered 
 carried forgiveness and assurance with them. Olive 
 no longer hesitated. She started in and told all. 
 Told of the time she had first seen Graham at the 
 Cathedral, then again of her meeting him on Mt. 
 Pelee. Told of the first note he had sent her, and 
 how, through old Francisco it had reached her, ex 
 cusing the part Graham had played as mere ex 
 pediencies induced by the fact that a convent is an 
 impregnable fortress to a young man who seeks a 
 fair one within, and subterfuge must be resorted 
 to. Olive told of all that had been done; of the 
 part Durand had played in the affair. As she told 
 of her capture by him and her subsequent escape,
 
 328 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 thanks to Graham s friend, Mr. Best, the Abbess 
 frame shook. " Olive, Olive," she said, " why did 
 you not tell me of this that I might protect you 
 from this awful man, Durand." 
 
 Continuing she told of the successful attempt 
 made that evening to communicate with her, of the 
 effectual use of the kite and ladder in this. The 
 Abbess almost smiled at this detail. Yet Olive 
 noticed it not. 
 
 Her voice was meek and penitent, yet the Ab 
 bess had not spoken a single word of reproof, but 
 as she finished, she turned and looked into her 
 face. She saw there only forgiveness and gratitude, 
 forgiveness for herself and gratitude that her es 
 cape from Durand had been so fortunate. 
 
 " Mamma," she said, " forgive me; will you 
 forgive both Harold and me? " 
 
 " Harold," said the Abbess, " and indeed has it 
 come to this that you call him Harold ? " 
 
 There was really a bit of alarm in her voice. She 
 hoped Olive and Harold, as she called him, were not 
 engaged, at least until she could see this man 
 " Harold," and ascertain his fitness and character. 
 
 She said, " Olive, I forgive you, but this young 
 man I would know more of before forgiving him. 
 What do you know of him ? " 
 
 " Oh, plenty, mamma. He has told me much 
 about himself. Besides, mamma, I learned some-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 329 
 
 thing of great importance concerning him and us 
 to-night. His name you know is Graham. Well, 
 he is the son of the bank president you once knew 
 back in New York." 
 
 " Impossible," said the Abbess. 
 
 " Yes," said Olive, " it is true. Yet he knows not 
 I am the one who was robbed by Durand, although 
 he knows Durand s identity. His father sought 
 Durand for years that he might prosecute him for 
 robbing me, and the son promised the father to 
 continue the search. He will soon move against 
 Durand." 
 
 " Child, child, do you speak the truth? Does he 
 speak the truth ? " 
 
 " Surely mamma, we both do." 
 
 The two women looked at each other for a mo 
 ment. The head of the Abbess bent forward ; tears 
 flowed down her face. Olive caught the sentiment. 
 She knew not what or why, but she cried also. 
 Locked in each other s arms they cried on, one 
 by reason of mingled emotions. Her ward she was 
 sure had placed her confidence and love, love was 
 it, had it come to that, in a man, the magic of whose 
 name assured the Abbess of his worthiness. Then 
 too she cried, because in the end she must lose 
 Olive, Olive, her almost daughter. 
 
 Olive cried first for joy, joy that the Abbess had 
 forgiven her and looked with forgiveness upon her
 
 330 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 exploits; cried for gladness that the Abbess really 
 knew her secret, and deception was a thing of the 
 past; cried for joy over the fact that the secret 
 she had housed in a corner of her inner soul was 
 known now and her great love for this man could 
 be consummated, and no longer be a secret. 
 
 " Olive, do you love this Mr. Graham? " 
 
 " Yes, mamma," faltered Olive. 
 
 " Are you engaged ? " 
 
 " No, mamma." Through her tears came the 
 qualification " not yet." 
 
 The Abbess smiled. " I would see this Mr. 
 Graham or Harold to-morrow. Olive, we will send 
 for him. Good night." 
 
 " Good night, mamma." 
 
 " But you haven t forgiven Harold yet," con 
 tinued the girl. 
 
 " Oh, all right, I do now. Good night again." 
 
 The Abbess went to her own room and retired, 
 as did Olive. Both went to sleep feeling a load had 
 been lifted from their souls.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 331 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A NATIVE boy stopped his bicycle in front of 
 Graham s cottage and dismounting came up the 
 flower-banked walk toward the porch on which 
 Graham and Best were sitting. It was the morn 
 ing the Abbess had promised to send for Graham. 
 
 True to her word this messenger bore a note to 
 him. They were just discussing the successfulness 
 of the previous night s adventure. Graham had con 
 gratulated Best on the fertile productiveness of his 
 mind in suggesting kites and ladders as accessories 
 to his suit. Best s reply was characteristic. 
 
 " In the future Cupid will be pictured with not 
 only his bow and shaft, but a kite and a ladder will 
 be added. This will greatly add to his dignity and 
 effectiveness." 
 
 Graham took the proffered note from the mes 
 senger and opened it. His face fell as he did so. 
 He turned to the messenger and said, " There will 
 be no reply." As the messenger got out of ear 
 shot, he turned to Best and read aloud:
 
 332 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 "Mr. Harold Graham, 
 
 " DEAR SIR : The Abbess at St. Mary s con 
 vent, St. Pierre, would be pleased to see you at 
 once, and about a topic that is of interest to you 
 as well as to her. 
 
 " St. Pierre, Martinique." 
 
 Graham was pale and trembling by this time. 
 Here was the very thing he longed for, for the 
 Abbess to know of his affair with Olive, and now 
 that it had come, he quaked. The peremptory tone 
 of the note made him fear. Her prejudices were 
 against him. He reasoned, " Well, I might have 
 known better. Nothing worth while was ever 
 gained by secrecy and stealth." This he said aloud. 
 
 Best instantly said, " Now, Harold, don t despair. 
 I am sure the Abbess wants you to let her set the 
 day for the wedding, and here you are mourning 
 lest she will cut you off altogether because you have 
 offended against certain rules of the convent that 
 only love can or is entitled to break. Go to the city 
 at once. I will go with you and drive about while 
 you interview the Abbess." 
 
 An hour later they drew up in front of the con 
 vent and Graham slowly got out and walking 
 through the gate ascended the steps. His ring was 
 answered by a nun who seemed to expect him, for 
 she asked not his business, as was customary be-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 333 
 
 fore allowing any one to enter. His heart palpitated 
 loudly as he stepped inside. He was seated and the 
 nun withdrew. 
 
 In a minute he heard footfalls coming from some 
 where. He felt sure he would now reap the re 
 ward for his presumption in loving Olive and try 
 ing to win her as he had. Through the door at 
 the farther end of the hall a figure stepped, followed 
 by another. The first was Olive. Before she of 
 fered any greeting, Graham searched her pale face 
 for some sign of the ordeal before them. Her 
 face was mobile, yet pale, and no gaze of his could 
 penetrate further than this. The Abbess in her 
 black cloak and white bonnet came close behind. 
 Mr. Graham looked upon her at first as he might 
 had she been a she-dragon instead of a beautiful, 
 sacrificing soul, who even now was doing things 
 for Olive and him that the convent forbade. 
 
 Olive now said, " Good-morning, Mr. Graham." 
 Her voice was soft and it seemed to him faltered a 
 little. This he misunderstood as fear. His voice, 
 however, was faltering also, faltering and meek 
 ness itself. They advanced to where he stood. 
 
 " Mr. Graham, this is the Abbess. Abbess, this 
 is Mr. Graham." 
 
 Nothing more. A simple introduction that was 
 followed by a silence which was awkward and pain 
 ful to Graham. Of course the Abbess had not of-
 
 334 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 fered him her hand, could not, for one of Holy 
 Orders would not be expected to. The Abbess broke 
 the awkward silence, " My ward Olive tells me you 
 are the son of Mr. Charles Graham, formerly of 
 New York." 
 
 " I am," he replied. 
 
 Surely there was naught of rancor in her voice. 
 
 " I am pleased to see you," she said. 
 
 Olive brought some chairs and they were seated 
 near him. Seated, and the Abbess resumed the con 
 versation. 
 
 " I once knew your father." 
 
 " You did," said he eagerly, for by this acquain 
 tance he hoped to gain partial expiation for his 
 great wrong done the Abbess. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I knew your father, not well, 
 but through slight business dealing." 
 
 " Yes," he said, as he wondered if she would up 
 braid him later. 
 
 " Last night Olive told me of you." She omit 
 ted to give any particulars as to why ; " and I at 
 once knew who you were. I sent for you for that 
 reason. Had I not had previous knowledge of 
 your family, I might not have done this," and she 
 raised her eyes to his face and looked at him for 
 the first time closely. 
 
 He was struck with her beauty, the angelic sweet-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 335 
 
 ness of her expression. He understood the im 
 plication in her words. 
 
 " You were most kind to do it. I most sincerely 
 crave forgiveness for the deceitful way I have 
 treated you," he said. 
 
 She nodded merely at this and said, " We will 
 come to that later. First I would tell you a story, 
 would you listen to it, for it concerns you, you and 
 Olive?" 
 
 " Yes, I would indeed care to listen." 
 
 Then she commenced and told the same story 
 that has been told in these pages before, told by 
 the Abbess to Olive, told in part by Graham him 
 self to Olive, only the Abbess could supply details 
 that Graham had not known. She told the story, 
 however, leaving out the names, save that of Du- 
 rand and of his father. Graham sat a perfect list 
 ener. As she went on, he wondered how she knew 
 it, asking himself many times, " Did the Abbess take 
 any part herself in what she is relating?" Al 
 though she had said it concerned Olive and him 
 self, yet he in no way thought of Olive as the lost 
 child. He had thought of the wronged one as only 
 a child, forgetting the lapse of years. 
 
 When she had finished, he said, " I have heard 
 the story before. Aye, I have searched for this 
 villain you have mentioned. It was an injunction 
 from my father that I have not forgotten."
 
 336 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Yes," said the Abbess, and she wondered if he 
 suspected she and Olive took a part in the story. 
 
 " He is here in St. Pierre. In this out of the 
 way island I have located him, and shall soon pro 
 ceed against him." 
 
 " Yes," said the Abbess, as if to draw him on. 
 
 " Soon," he continued, " it will be done, and then 
 I have, in the name of justice, carried out my 
 promise to the father I loved so well, and will have 
 Avenged the wrong done an innocent child." 
 
 The Abbess glanced at Olive who returned her 
 glance. He did not know that Olive was the in 
 jured child. 
 
 " You would then avenge the wrong in what 
 way?" 
 
 " By the arm of the law." 
 
 " But this is French soil. No criminal who com 
 mitted a crime in one country is amenable for thai 
 crime in another country." 
 
 " I know," said he, " but a criminal can be ex 
 tradited." 
 
 " True. But by the law of God one will be pun 
 ished. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. 
 
 " You would not have me molest the man ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " No, or not until you have exhausted all other 
 means to the end that he may disgorge riches that 
 are not his. The law can be resorted to then."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 337 
 
 " But the man is dangerous. The safety of so 
 ciety demands that he be molested in the name of 
 the law." 
 
 " Yes, after all other means fail." 
 
 Graham suddenly asked : " Tell me, Abbess, how 
 came you to know the story of this man Durand. 
 So far as I know, none other but me knew the 
 story, save my friend Best who is visiting me and 
 to whom I related it." 
 
 " Can you not guess? " she said slowly. Graham 
 looked from her to Olive and then back again. 
 He read nothing in their faces that gave an inkling 
 as to what the Abbess meant. He thought a min 
 ute. 
 
 " I have not always been in a convent," said 
 the Abbess, as if to assist him. He looked at her 
 curiously. It struck him suddenly who she and 
 Olive were. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he said, " I see it now. Olive is the 
 child Durand wronged and you were the nurse from 
 whom she was stolen." 
 
 The Abbess nodded. 
 
 Olive spoke. 
 
 " Until last night I did not know who you were, 
 that is, that you were the son of the man whom 
 the Abbess knew. Then I did not explain for the 
 reason that I did not want you to know all about 
 me; at least, not yet." 
 
 22 ,
 
 338 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 As she let the words " not yet " fall from her 
 lips, she colored prettily. Graham understood and 
 made no reply. Indeed he looked confused. 
 
 Graham felt he should speak. " Abbess," he 
 said, " I am glad you sent for me. Glad for Olive s 
 sake and for my own. I am glad to know that 
 the one whose cause I championed and whose 
 wrong-doer I sought should prove to be your ward, 
 for whom I have the most tender affection. I am 
 speaking boldly. Yes, I am, but my pent-up feel 
 ing while but the culmination of two weeks ac 
 quaintance, yet compels my speech. That Olive, 
 however, should be the one whom this man Du- 
 rand defrauded of her own is a great surprise to 
 me, and only serves to make stronger my regard 
 for her. Abbess, let me explain my conduct to you. 
 If these meetings between Olive and myself have 
 not met with your approval, I pray you to lay all 
 blame upon me. It was I who sought it ; I who al 
 lowed it, and Olive merely consented to the plans. 
 Upon me all the blame should fall. I regret that 
 the sanctity of this holy place should in any way be 
 pervaded by the worldly affairs of man, yet often 
 love is supreme and before it the rights of man 
 must bow, the traditions of religion go down if need 
 be that its end may be accomplished. Forgive us, 
 Abbess. Forgive us." 
 
 " Aye," said the Abbess. " All is forgiven. A
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 339 
 
 supplicant other than you had preceded your ap 
 peal and received forgiveness." Graham glanced 
 at Olive who looked confusedly at the floor. 
 
 " Abbess," he said, " I just mentioned that love 
 was supreme. Believing this, I ask your consent 
 to offer my love to Olive." 
 
 The Abbess said, " Olive is no longer a child, 
 though I might wish she was, for I would fain 
 keep her here forever, but a bird of freedom will 
 droop if caged. Before you came, she was content 
 here. But love has changed her. Now she could 
 not be content, and I am not selfish. Self-abnega 
 tion is a first great lesson, so I forfeit my right 
 to Olive to you. I would not, could not ask for 
 anything only that which will bring to her the 
 greatest happiness. You have my consent," and 
 she nodded toward Graham. 
 
 " Olive, our meetings have been secret, at least 
 without the knowledge and consent of the Abbess. 
 For this reason I am bold now. I have longed for 
 this chance to tell you of my love. As we have 
 been meeting outside without the consent of the 
 Abbess let me now make bold in her presence. 
 Olive, you must already know I love and would 
 wed you. Tell me that you love me." 
 
 She looked at the Abbess and blushed prettily 
 before she spoke or acted. Graham came closer 
 to her as she said,
 
 340 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Yes Harold, it is true. I love you." 
 
 He took her in his arms. What did it matter if 
 this holy woman was by, this woman who by her 
 vows could kiss no man nor allow any man to kiss 
 her? What did it count should the whole universe 
 stand by as spectators? Love was here supreme, 
 and the first virgin kiss was its seal and nothing 
 should prevent it. 
 
 When Graham came out a half hour later he had 
 a smile on his face, a more elastic spring in his step 
 as he walked up the street in the direction of the 
 Plaza Hotel. He was looking for Best that he 
 might go with him and hear him denounce the 
 coward, hear him, in lieu of a despoiled woman, 
 make demands upon the cur who had despoiled 
 her. He found Best sitting on the piazza, com 
 placently smoking. 
 
 Best glanced at him. " My, Harold ! what has 
 happened? Your face is as beaming as a negro s 
 at sight of a water-melon. But tell me about it. 
 Have you conquered the ire of the Abbess and so 
 quickly? " 
 
 " There was no ire to conquer." 
 
 " No, then the Abbess succumbed to your charms 
 as easily as did the girl. I supposed nuns were im 
 mune against the snares of men. But are you en 
 gaged? Tell me quickly." 
 
 " Yes," said Graham, " we are."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 341 
 
 " I thought so. Nothing short of it would cause 
 that jubilant expression. 
 
 " As to details," broke in Graham, " leave that 
 for some other time. I have something on now 
 more important than details." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 Graham arose and stood in front of Best. Draw 
 ing himself up, he said, " Frank, I can now boast 
 that I am fully qualified to champion Olive s cause 
 against Durand. Fortified with my successes of 
 the day, I will immediately see this Durand. Will 
 you go with me? Not that I fear him, but the 
 presence of we two who have frustrated him in the 
 past may awe him and make my task easy. Will 
 you go with me? " 
 
 " Certainly, I would not allow you to go alone, 
 for the man you would deal with is dangerous." 
 
 They entered the hotel and then inquired if M. 
 Durand was in his room. Being met with an affirm 
 ative answer, they sent up their cards. 
 
 Durand was in his room when the cards were 
 brought in. He looked at both names and it did 
 not occur to him that he knew these men who de 
 sired an audience with him. Even the name Gra 
 ham awoke no more than a passing notice. There 
 were many Grahams in the world and he did not 
 remember any Harold. He had only seen him once 
 and that was insufficient to remember so small a
 
 342 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 thing of a man as his first name, even had he heard 
 it 
 
 He would see the men ; they might be shown up, 
 he told the boy. A minute later they came. He 
 arose to greet them but stumbled back into his 
 chair without having offered his hand in greeting. 
 He was not pleased with his visitors. He glanced 
 at the cards again, and read the name " Graham." 
 He looked the men over, and saw in one a resem 
 blance to the father he had known. " Fool," he 
 thought, " why had not I thought of this before? " 
 
 The effrontery of Durand was not as pronounced 
 as before. The rebuffs he had met in his efforts to 
 wed Olive had taken from him at least a little of his 
 great assurance. Before he might have known 
 exactly what procedure would be desirable under 
 present conditions. Now he merely gazed in amaze 
 ment as he realized Graham s identity. He was 
 too amazed to inquire the business that brought 
 them there, or knowing, he dreaded mentioning it. 
 They stared at each other for a moment as if tak 
 ing one another s measure, Best looking on. Gra 
 ham broke this silence : 
 
 " Your name is Herbert Durand is it not? " 
 
 " It is, sir." 
 
 " So I thought," said Graham. " Strange, too, 
 that you have not used a disguised name, for you 
 have reason to use such a name."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 343 
 
 Durand fired up. " You have come here to berate 
 me, and you a stranger? I shall not allow this. 
 Will you retire, please?" 
 
 " No, I will not. I have come here to denounce 
 you, and denounce you I will before I leave. I have 
 also come here to exact justice to a wronged wo 
 man. I might have begun my speech to you in 
 softer terms. I might first have tried reasoning and 
 argument, but they would have availed nothing, so 
 I come at you as I do, come at you in the only 
 way open to deal with one of your stamp." 
 
 " You are getting excited," said Durand. 
 " Since you will not leave at my request, sit down 
 and let us find out what reason you have for this 
 visit, these denouncing words and your excitement." 
 
 It was plain Durand realized Graham to be 
 greatly in earnest. Best was surprised at the great 
 earnestness of his friend, surprised at his fierce 
 manner that left no room for compromise. 
 
 "What brings you here?" asked Durand. He 
 was playing for time and fast regaining his old 
 confidence now that a fight or contest was in sight. 
 
 " I am here in the name of justice, of equity, and 
 to demand reparation, to demand a settlement of 
 the estate of Olive James, who as a little girl, 
 many years ago, you robbed of her birthright." 
 Graham was less excited now. 
 
 "Ah, that is all? Then if that is all, young
 
 344 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 man, you may go on about your business, for any 
 such settlement as you ask for will never be made 
 by me." 
 
 " I shall invoke the aid of the law." 
 
 " The law of this God-forsaken island will give 
 you little assistance." 
 
 " But the American consul can." 
 
 " Can he? Well, go ahead and we will see." 
 
 " You don t deny that you are Durand, the rob 
 ber of this girl? " 
 
 " I deny and affirm nothing, nothing. You are 
 making the case against me." 
 
 :< Yes and I have the proofs too, and strong wit 
 nesses, none less than the Abbess at St. Mary s 
 Convent who knows you and your perfidy." 
 
 Durand made no reply to this. It had been the 
 intention of Graham to make strong charges against 
 Durand, at first using strong accusations and 
 threats to the end that he might be intimidated, and 
 would consent to a settlement. He thought now the 
 proper time to try this : " Cannot you and I avoid 
 future trouble, and in this way? You agree to 
 turn over this original fortune intrusted to you 
 by this girl s father. The use or interest on this 
 original amount, if well guarded, will be sufficient 
 to keep you well if you retain it. We will consent 
 that you keep this, giving us only the original 
 principal."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 345 
 
 " Never," said Durand. 
 
 Graham replied. " I have delayed seeing the 
 consul for many days, hoping some way might be 
 found that your arrest might be avoided. Now I 
 can see naught ahead for you but arrest and extra 
 dition." 
 
 Durand merely shut his lips tight. True he 
 feared the law, but he loved money more, and he 
 would never relinquish his hold on Olive s dower 
 if arrested and imprisoned for not doing so. 
 
 "Cannot we get together in some way?" again 
 asked Graham. 
 
 Durand thought a minute. " Yes," he said, " I 
 think we can. I hope so any way." 
 
 " Tell me how," eagerly said Graham as he tilted 
 his chair forward toward Durand. 
 
 " Simple enough. We can compromise." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " I will give to you personally one quarter of 
 the estate if you will not molest me, and the estate 
 has not shrunken any since I have had it either." 
 
 Graham s answer came quickly. Like a tiger 
 springing upon his prey, he sprang upon Durand, 
 striking him a powerful blow that felled him like 
 an ox. " You hound, you cur, you ask me to assist 
 you in this robbery ? Get up that I may knock you 
 down again." 
 
 Best spoke here. " Harold," he said, " com-
 
 346 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 pose yourself." His quieting order had the desired 
 effect, for Graham immediately sank back in his 
 chair. 
 
 Durand arose quickly and turned to his dresser. 
 Opening a drawer he took from it something they 
 did not see until he turned around. " Damn you ! " 
 he said. " The other night to my sorrow I was 
 caught without a weapon. Then you and your 
 friend won out. Now I am armed and shall settle 
 with you for this insult. I will kill you where you 
 sit." He glared at Graham, who turned pale. The 
 revolver clicked ominously. 
 
 " Drop that gun or I ll blow you into h 1 this 
 instant," sounded the voice of Best. " Again I 
 have the drop on you." 
 
 Durand looked at Best and saw his revolver 
 pointed at his head. He knew one whose marks 
 manship was good enough to hit horses in motion 
 was a dangerous one to dispute. Besides, Durand 
 at bay was a coward. He dropped the gun to the 
 floor. Best picked it up and tossed it back on 
 the dresser. 
 
 " I am unarmed," said Durand as he faced Gra 
 ham, " yet I will tell you what I will do. I will 
 fight a duel with you. The money and the girl 
 shall be the stakes. Since you will not compromise 
 I make you this offer."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 347 
 
 " The girl," said Graham. " She would die 
 rather than marry you." 
 
 " Oh, I don t think so. I am not so bad," said 
 Durand. " Many women have been willing. Some 
 are even now." 
 
 " Yes, but no decent ones, I am sure. No, I will 
 not fight you. I am no coward either. I should ex 
 pect treachery in some form, for men like you are 
 cowards and never fight in the open. If I were 
 killed, you might go on with your nefarious plots 
 and ways, and indeed steal Olive for a third time; 
 in other words, make good your attempt of a few 
 nights ago. No, I repeat, I will not fight you, and 
 I am not a coward either." 
 
 " What ? You will not fight. You will not com 
 promise matters. Damn you. You are different 
 from your father. He could compromise at least." 
 
 " What do you mean, sir? " this sternly. 
 
 " Just this. The son gets angry over an offer of 
 a compromise that the father, in the same matter, 
 accepted, and for a generous slice forever held his 
 peace." 
 
 " Tis a lie," said Graham, as he again sprang 
 at him. This time Best stepped between Durand 
 and Harold, saying, " Calm yourself." 
 
 But Graham was not so easily calmed this time. 
 The insinuation that his father was a party to the
 
 348 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 defrauding of Olive was a cut that sank deep into 
 the quick. 
 
 " You coward," he cried, " it is beneath the dig 
 nity of any gentleman to notice you, but that the 
 earth may be rid of the greatest lying villain, robber 
 and despoiler of dead men s good names, I will fight 
 you anywhere and any way you may suggest." 
 
 " Good," said Durand. " We will arrange this. 
 I will send you the name of my second and details 
 later. You may do the same." 
 
 A sardonic smile played on his face as he showed 
 them out. Closing the door he said to himself, 
 " Well, that thrust about his father did the business. 
 If he don t die as a result of this duel, I miss my 
 guess." 
 
 He rang the bell violently. Le Tosco appeared 
 in a minute, and an interview of an hour s dura 
 tion followed.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 349 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BEST tried to persuade Graham not to fight. He 
 was afraid of treachery. He knew Durand would 
 not be so anxious unless he had in mind some trick 
 for the undoing of Graham. 
 
 " I shall fight him," Graham replied. " His 
 damnable implication that my father shared in the 
 robbery shall not go unpunished. I have much to 
 live for now. There is Olive and the restoration 
 of her fortune, now that Durand has been dis 
 covered. Do you think I could become the husband 
 of Olive so long as this villain is alive and 
 dares to renew his base charges that my father 
 assisted in defrauding the girl I would marry? 
 Besides I have no fear of the outcome, for some 
 thing tells me I shall be unharmed ; something tells 
 me the future will yet be resplendent with peace 
 and I shall reap the fruits of love. In the name 
 of a just cause I will fight him ; in justice to Olive, 
 in justice to the father I loved." 
 
 Best gave him his hand. " Well said, Harold. 
 You have bravery. I never doubted it, yet watch 
 out for treachery."
 
 350 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Best came to the city again that day. He learned 
 from Durand that one La Monta, whom the reader 
 knows as he who had initiated Durand as a Devil 
 Worshipper, was to be Durand s second. La Monta 
 was summoned by Durand, and he and Best ar 
 ranged all the preliminaries, which were as fol 
 lows : Durand, La Monta and a surgeon were to 
 leave the hotel in their carriage at exactly six 
 o clock the next morning, following along the Fort 
 de France road. Precisely at this time, Graham 
 and Best were to leave the former s home and pro 
 ceed toward the city. Both parties were to drive at 
 a six mile pace, and whenever they met, they were 
 to alight and fight with pistols, at twenty paces. 
 
 The next morning at daylight both Best and 
 Graham \vere early astir. Graham took his pistols 
 and went out to the roadside where he took several 
 shots at a target of paper pinned to a tree. He was 
 not unused to firearms, but of late had paid little 
 attention to his marksmanship. The previous after 
 noon he had practised considerably, and found his 
 cunningness of aim was not less sure than of 
 old. Now to test his nerve he tried again and found 
 his sureness of aim had not deteriorated during the 
 night, in which he had slept well. He had formu 
 lated plans as well as improved his shooting ability. 
 He did not believe Durand was as eager for the duel 
 as he claimed. He reasoned that if he could wing
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 351 
 
 him, as it were, the duel would stop there, and that 
 in the future he would not be molested by him, 
 neither he nor Olive. 
 
 His deductions were correct regarding Du- 
 rand s bravery, yet he had forgotten one insidious 
 characteristic of his enemy, that of treachery, for 
 it was true Durand did not relish the idea of mak 
 ing himself a target and had planned otherwise. 
 Graham knew naught of his intentions and believed 
 that a shot in the arm or hand perhaps would throw 
 his enemy into fear, and cause him to abandon 
 thoughts of revenge and to be pacificatory in the 
 future. Graham realized he ran some danger, in 
 spite of the thought, as he told Best, that he would 
 be unharmed. He was angry enough at Durand 
 when his father s name was slandered to have killed 
 him outright. 
 
 His later deliberations and more sober thoughts 
 were responsible for the conviction that he did not 
 care to pose as a murderer and would be satisfied 
 to wound him, to draw his blood and avenge the 
 aspersion of his father s name, and yet not in 
 jure him fatally. He relied on his marksmanship 
 to make the latter feat possible. After the practice 
 this morning, the two friends retired within the 
 house and partook of their breakfast, after which, 
 it being six o clock, they started at once for St. 
 Pierre.
 
 352 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 At the same time Durand and his friend, La 
 Monta, with coachman and a surgeon left the Plaza 
 hotel, swinging out of the city, and taking the 
 Fort de France road. The surgeon, a Frenchman, 
 grumbled at the earliness of the hour, saying he 
 was unable to understand why Christian gentlemen 
 could not settle their affairs at more decent hours. 
 
 The two vehicles sped toward one another, the 
 occupants of each with vigilant eye watching each 
 turn of the road for the appearance of the other. 
 At last they sighted one another. It was the sig 
 nal for decreased speed. 
 
 The place where they met was exactly half way 
 between the Plaza hotel and Graham s plantation. 
 Their speed had been practically the same and was 
 responsible for this fact, a fact that Durand ap 
 preciated, for it was his plan to have it so, a plan 
 as dark and diabolical as devil ever inspired or man 
 executed. 
 
 This place was perhaps a quarter of a mile from 
 any habitation, and while not especially lonely was 
 out of danger or view from the commercial clientele 
 of this northern part of the island. On the left 
 hand, looking toward St. Pierre, was the level sweep 
 of a plantation, cleared and cultivated, but with no 
 fence or barrier against him who would outrage 
 this soil by shedding human blood there, or against 
 the simple encroachers who might desire to leave
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 353 
 
 the road and trespass. On the opposite side, how 
 ever, was a hill covered with small trees and an 
 undergrowth that made it nearly inaccessible. 
 
 The two principals stepped from their respective 
 vehicles and glanced at each other a moment. Du- 
 rand turned his face away and took from his pocket 
 a white kerchief with which he wiped his face, 
 then it fluttered to the ground. It looked to be 
 accident or inadvertence, yet had one known the 
 inside of the plot and followed the glance of Du- 
 rand, he would have seen a certain bush or small 
 tree at his left and on the upper side of the road, 
 shiver and bend slightly as if some force other than 
 the trade-winds were agitating it. Durand with 
 drew his gaze and a look of satisfaction played 
 upon his sinister features. 
 
 The surgeon unloaded a case of instruments for 
 any contingencies that might arise. Durand looked 
 at this and said nothing. 
 
 A little distance away stood Graham, leisurely 
 awaiting the pleasure of the other party. La Monta 
 had explained to Best that he had participated in 
 similar little affairs before, and so was made master 
 of ceremonies as well as Durand s second. Briskly 
 he moved about, his little figure looking more pudgy 
 and shriveled than ever. 
 
 Carefully he measured the distance, pacing it 
 and stepping as far in doing so as his short legs
 
 354 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 would allow. This done he said in French. " Mat 
 ters of this kind are better settled than deferred. 
 Get ready at once." 
 
 Durand coolly took his place without a word, 
 and watched Graham, who did not keep him wait 
 ing- long. The two faced each other. From their 
 facial expression, it could not be said either showed 
 fear. On the contrary, both looked confidently at 
 the outcome, one relying on his marksmanship and 
 the other on fiendish trickery. 
 
 La Monta said, " Have both arranged your 
 earthly affairs ? " Durand replied in the affirmative. 
 Graham merely nodded. He did not expect to die, 
 then why should he make any arrangements that 
 might be put into execution after his exit. 
 
 La Monta said, " Is all in readiness ? " 
 
 Both answered, " Yes." 
 
 " Positions " he called out. " Get ready. When 
 I count three, fire." 
 
 In French he slowly called, " One, two, three." 
 
 There was but one report, although both had 
 aimed, and apparently meant to fire. 
 
 The smoke lifted. Graham was unharmed, while 
 Durand had dropped his pistol to the ground. His 
 right hand in which he held it was bleeding badly. 
 He was dancing about. The aim of Graham had 
 proven true. The surgeon rushed toward Durand 
 as if to assist him. With his left hand he quickly
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 355 
 
 picked tip the pistol and tried to aim it at Graham. 
 Although his hand shook and faltered as he aimed 
 it yet his determination was good. " Damn you," 
 he said, " I will kill you anyway, even if my luck 
 i^: .^- : :: : : -. r. .;r/r. : ; ; ;- 
 
 The pistol was wavering in his hand as he pulled 
 the trigger. Crack, it sounded. La Monta saw 
 what he was doing but made no effort to stop him. 
 Best, on the other hand, had just come forward 
 and congratulated Graham on his escape and marks 
 manship when he glanced at Durand and saw his 
 murderous move. He sprang upon him, and to 
 gether they went to the earth. 
 
 This move of Bests, however, was unnecessary 
 a- it proved, although in keeping with bravery and 
 safety. \Ye mentioned the glances of Durand to 
 ward the bushes on the opposite roadside. From 
 them now came forth a howl of pain, a howl of in 
 jured humanity. Be=t was quickly on his feet and 
 drew his own pistoL " Xo more treachery, Du 
 rand," he shouted " or you die." 
 
 From the bushes emerged a native, hatless and 
 excited. Like a wild Apache he danced about, and 
 then fell on his face in the dusty road. It was Le 
 
 " I am a dead man," be said. " My God! get a 
 priest q:r*ck. Get a priest ! " he shouted, as Best 
 and Graham were first to reach him.
 
 356 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Tell me," said Graham, " are you injured? " 
 
 " Yes, I am dying. In the name of the Blessed 
 Mother get a priest." 
 
 " Where are you injured? " 
 
 " Here," he said, as he pulled up his trouser leg 
 and showed a bullet hole just above the ankle. 
 
 " That shot of Durand s did this," said Best. 
 
 " Yes," said Le Tosco, " and I am a dead man. 
 Oh, oh ! Get a priest, I say." 
 
 " Be quiet," said Best. " A wound of this kind 
 is not fatal. You will be all right after the sur 
 geon fixes you up a bit. Calm yourself." 
 
 " Nay," said Le Tosco. " It is fatal. This bul 
 let of M. Durand s was poisoned. I soaked the 
 cartridge in the virus of the fer-de-lance myself." 
 
 " Poisoned ! " cried Graham, horrified at what he 
 had escaped. 
 
 "Yes," said Le Tosco. "At M. Durand s re 
 quest I poisoned these bullets. Some of the poisoned 
 bullets were in his pocket, some in mine. The 
 ones in his were only to be used if necessary. You 
 noticed he did not fire at first. I was to do it for 
 him. In fact I was to fire at the count of two in 
 stead of waiting for the third count. If I missed he 
 was to fire himself. This I tried to do but my 
 pistol failed. The cartridges were too wet from 
 soaking in the poison of the fer-de-lance. I tried 
 twice. The next thing M. Durand fired, and I was
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 357 
 
 hit and now I die. Forgive me," he said, im 
 ploringly to Graham. " Forgive me." 
 
 " Yes," said Graham, " I do." 
 
 La Monta and Durand came forward now. Du- 
 rand had heard what Le Tosco had said. Best 
 again covered Durand with his gun. " No trickery 
 this time, Durand, or you will die in your tracks." 
 
 Durand, a bit cowed, replied, as the surgeon with 
 a tourniquet bound tight the leg of Le Tosco above 
 the wound, thereby stopping the poison from get 
 ting through his system, " I am sorry I fired upon 
 Mr. Graham so unwarrantably, yet my wound 
 crazed me. This man here tells you a falsehood. I 
 never saw him before. I have made no such com 
 pact with him as he says. He is probably some 
 native who saw our affair here and has inflicted a 
 self-wound that he might gain sympathy and a 
 competence. What he says is untrue." 
 
 " What you say is a lie," said a voice behind 
 them. " The wounded man spoke the truth. I can 
 prove it." 
 
 It was a woman who spoke. Neither Graham 
 nor Best knew the sound of her voice or the face 
 as they looked upon her. However, Durand evi 
 dently knew the voice and was surprised to hear it, 
 for he turned and looked into the face of Made 
 moiselle Sara Le Blanc or Mademoiselle Lillith as 
 the Devil Worshippers called her.
 
 358 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ONCE, after the ride in which Durand and Sara 
 met the Abbess and Olive together with the con 
 vent children returning from the picnic up Pelee s 
 side, did Mademoiselle Sara see Durand face to 
 face and alone. This meeting was brief and to 
 the point. 
 
 M. Divan was making a beast of himself now. 
 The subtle poison of absinthe was in his veins and 
 drew him on with an irresistible force and power 
 that only those addicted to it understand, that the 
 very few who have thrown off its awful influence 
 know justly how to fear. Each day her love for 
 Durand grew; each day she saw more in her own 
 life to condemn and each day longed to quit it. 
 Marriage to Durand offered the only way of escape 
 from her present condition, and her affection for 
 Durand came nearer the genuine article than she had 
 experienced for any of the number of her former 
 lovers. Unlike the virgin Queen Elizabeth, after 
 long experience she longed for one lover who would 
 be constant. Mademoiselle Sara met Durand on
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 359 
 
 the stairs one evening as she descended to go to 
 the temple where some awful incantation, prelim 
 inary to the grand fete, now only a short time 
 off, would take place. He had drawn aside to let 
 her pass, but she stopped. 
 
 " M. Durand, you do not come to the temple any 
 more. What is the reason? I miss you. On the 
 ocean you were attentive to me, but now I see you 
 not at all." There was pleading in her voice, but 
 he smiled at her earnestness. 
 
 " What difference can it make to you ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " I admit I am interested in you," she said. 
 " Once you were in me. Yet lately you avoid me. 
 Is it that you care less for me or more for the con 
 vent maid we saw the other day ? " 
 
 " You are right in both deductions," he said. 
 
 " And am I nothing to you now ? " 
 
 " No, and never will be," he said. " I have a 
 liking for the young and the beautiful, especially 
 where the beautiful is young. This is not so in 
 your case." 
 
 r< Then I am nothing to you ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 She might have berated him. She might have 
 shrieked and feigned faintness, but she did neither. 
 She drew her skirts about her and continued down 
 and to the Temple.
 
 360 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 This happened at about the time of Durand s en 
 counter with Graham at the convent gate, or a few 
 days later. He believed then he would win Olive. 
 It was before he had met many rebuffs, before he 
 had failed to capture her, and before he had learned 
 Graham s name and identity. Believing in him 
 self, he had not reckoned that he might care some 
 day for Sara s friendship. 
 
 Mademoiselle Sara was no respecter of persons. 
 She had loved best those who could best provide 
 for her. She could hate, with a vengeance that was 
 unfeigned, any who crossed or rejected her. She 
 then and there resolved that henceforth Durand 
 was her enemy, upon whom her vengeance should 
 fall. He had scorned her. He had refused to 
 marry her. His offer to make her his mistress had 
 not jarred on her sense of propriety, but his rejec 
 tion of her only terms on which she would come to 
 him fired her hatred, aroused the slumbering 
 fiendishness that is in every heart, only in most 
 people it is controlled by environment and the will. 
 
 She sought not vengeance on Olive either, as most 
 women would. She was wise enough to lay her 
 own chagrin to the one responsible for it. She 
 knew he believed he was in love with the convent 
 girl, and this only enhanced her passion. She re 
 solved to watch him, to know his moves and in 
 the end frustrate his plans and bring him to the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 361 
 
 dust. Her evil ways had always run on unchecked, 
 and as an evil woman, one who so far had but 
 once shown herself to possess womanly attributes, 
 and that once when she admitted to Durand at the 
 time she kidnapped Olive that she really liked the 
 child, she plotted the undoing of Durand to the 
 extent that she would kill him if necessary, to re 
 mind him that she could hate instead of love. 
 
 With this in view, she watched his door; she 
 listened to his conversation with his visitors. She 
 heard him and Le Tosco discuss and plan the plot 
 to capture and conceal Olive. It was the rustling 
 of her skirts that they had heard outside the door 
 as they plotted. She would have sought out the 
 girl and the Abbess then and warned them, only 
 it would be more confusing to Durand did she allow 
 the girl to be captured, and then reveal the girl s 
 whereabouts and expose him to the law of the is 
 land. She was glad, however, when she heard Du 
 rand return and notify Le Tosco his plans had mis 
 carried, for it saved her from showing her hand 
 as yet. 
 
 As an eavesdropper, she feared she would be 
 discovered outside Durand s door, so she hired 
 the room next his, paying well for it upon the con 
 dition that the fact should be kept a secret, espec 
 ially from Le Tosco, the porter. The manager, 
 not unused to liaisons, mistook her motive, and as
 
 362 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 was his wont, smiled and let her the room with 
 out questioning. 
 
 M. Divan seldom bothered her now, which gave 
 her plenty of time to occupy this room and listen 
 to all that passed therein. If Durand had a visitor, 
 she kept watch and noiselessly entered the room, 
 where she heard all that was said. This thing hap 
 pened when Best and Graham called upon him. She 
 heard the quarrel and the blow of Graham s that 
 felled his adversary. She heard Durand s decla 
 ration to kill Graham. She was ready to shriek as 
 the voice of Best sounded its mandatory warning 
 and command to Durand to drop his weapon. 
 
 As the details of the duel were arranged, she 
 hoped in this duel Durand might be killed. It 
 would be a handy exit for him, and no one would 
 regret it. Such was her hatred for the man who 
 had rejected her love and told her she was rejected 
 for another he hoped to win, but whom she felt he 
 could not with this young man as a rival, this young 
 man whom she knew not, but whose voice possessed 
 candor and resolution. This latter trait was the 
 one she had admired in Durand formerly, but now 
 she saw it warped and made to weaken by the con 
 tinued evil which it tried to force. After Graham 
 and Best left, she heard him summon Le Tosco, and 
 after that worthy s appearance, she heard the das 
 tardly plot planned, that of poisoning the bullets
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 363 
 
 by soaking them in the poison of the fer-de-lance, 
 and also having Le Tosco secrete himself in the 
 bush at the wayside close to the place where the 
 duelists would meet. 
 
 Durand himself was to make the entire distance 
 that evening, and ascertain the exact midway place 
 between the Plaza hotel and Graham s villa, and 
 mark this place so that Le Tosco would here secrete 
 himself with the knowledge that the two would 
 meet near by. 
 
 As to the poison to be used, Mademoiselle Sara 
 could hardly believe her ears. Every visitor to 
 the island is warned against that serpent whose bite 
 is always fatal. Sara had heard of many deaths 
 since she came here caused by the bite of the 
 fer-de-lance, deaths of people even within the 
 bounds of the city. Evidently Durand knew of 
 this. Aye, he even knew more than she knew, 
 that the poor, ignorant populace believed in the ef 
 ficacy of this venom of the snake as a charm to 
 ward off evil and disease. Furthermore he knew 
 that the killing of these snakes that the venom 
 might be extracted and sold commercially was a 
 business with some, and that this venom in small 
 vials was for sale at the shops of the apothecaries, 
 who were able to do quite a trade in this commod 
 ity, making thereby no small profit, for who would 
 not stand the extortion in buying such a priceless 
 charm ?
 
 364 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Lest she had not heard aright, she watched Le 
 Tosco leave the hotel. She followed and saw him 
 enter an apothecary s shop. She waited until he 
 came out and was a little distance away, then she 
 entered, and having made some trifling purchases, 
 asked if the man who had just left did not buy some 
 of the venom of the fer-de-lance. He had. 
 
 Going back, she sat down and thought it over. 
 She must, she would, prevent this horrible death 
 that awaited Graham should he be wounded, even 
 slightly, by Le Tosco whom Durand had hired to 
 treacherously shoot at the count of two. How 
 would she do it? She knew all that had been 
 planned by Durand and so was mistress of the 
 situation. Yet what would she do ? At last it came 
 to her. She would attend the duel. She would be 
 there just as the contestants were taking their 
 places. She would denounce Durand and reveal 
 the plot. As a proof she would have them beat 
 about and reveal Le Tosco in his hiding-place. It 
 would be a part of her revenge. Graham could 
 take what retaliation upon Durand he saw fit. At 
 least she would have partial revenge then; the 
 balance would come later. 
 
 For Le Tosco, at least, it was unfortunate that 
 she had not arrived on the scene of the duel a bit 
 earlier. She knew all the details and thought to 
 follow Durand. This she did. but he had the start 
 and she failed to overtake him.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 365 
 
 As it was, when she arrived, she was pleased that 
 Le Tosco and not Graham was injured, that the 
 poisoned bullet had acted as a boomerang and hit 
 one of the plotters. As Durand faced her, she de 
 nounced him as a liar in his assertion that Le Tosco 
 had spoken untruthfully about being hired to kill 
 Graham with a poisoned bullet. 
 
 His face grew pale. " You here," he said con 
 fusedly. " Why do you deny my words? " 
 
 The answer came back at once, " Because I want 
 every one to know what a villain you are; I want 
 them to know I overheard you and this Le Tosco 
 here," pointing to the prostrate man in the road, 
 " plotting this scheme which now through fear 
 he reveals." 
 
 " A jealous woman," said Durand, as he snapped 
 his fingers at her. 
 
 This enraged her. " Yes," she said, " a jealous 
 woman, but one more honest and gracious than 
 you." 
 
 " Indeed, a mistress to other men, one who has 
 importuned me as Potiphar s wife importuned the 
 youthful Joseph, in the Bible story." 
 
 " It is a lie," she said, her voice loud and ex 
 cited. " The reverse is true. I would come to yQU 
 only as your wife. For that reason you cast me 
 aside." 
 
 " Cease this wrangle," spoke Graham. " We
 
 366 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 care not to witness the laundering of dirty 
 linen." 
 
 She turned upon Graham : " You know but little 
 of this man. He s a robber. By his orders and a 
 liberal use of money he had a child kidnapped years 
 ago." 
 
 " Yes," said Graham, " but how do you know 
 this?" 
 
 She did not hesitate to say, " I needed the 
 money. I did the job for him. Now he would 
 cast me aside. Now he thinks he loves a convent 
 girl." 
 
 " Do you know the name of the convent girl ? " 
 suddenly asked Graham. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Her name is Olive James." 
 
 "Is she, the the same one?" She laughed 
 hoarsely in Durand s face. " And you would steal 
 her twice? " 
 
 At this reference to his recent attempt to ab 
 duct Olive, Durand retorted, " Strumpet, mistress, 
 you." 
 
 " Durand," said Graham, " you undertook to 
 steal Olive a few days ago. Now you have tried 
 to murder me, and by a method both fiendish and 
 cruel. In both these attempts you were frustrated. 
 I warn you not to attempt anything further in this 
 line. I also give you fair warning that I am not
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 367 
 
 through with you yet. Your offences shall not go 
 unpunished. I had in mind first to kill you, but 
 later decided to wound you as the accuracy of my 
 shot must prove, for I hit you just where I in 
 tended, and disarmed you. I spared you that I 
 might work out your punishment in a humane way, 
 and as the law prescribes. To this law I shall ap 
 peal at once." 
 
 "And if the law fails?" insolently asked Du- 
 rand. 
 
 " Then God will punish you. Crimes of the 
 enormity of yours shall not go unpunished. This 
 man whom you wounded will be cared for by your 
 surgeon. The tourniquet has probably saved his 
 life." 
 
 Durand again sneered at Graham and withdrew, 
 calling out as he did so to the surgeon, " When 
 you get the nigger fixed up, come and attend to my 
 hand." 
 
 Mademoiselle Sara offered to take Le Tosco home 
 and he was assisted to her carriage. The surgeon 
 also climbed in and they followed Durand to the 
 city, while Graham and Best made their way home 
 in the opposite direction. 
 
 You only winged him, Harold," said Best as 
 they drove along. " Yet he will retaliate if you 
 are not watchful. Implore the aid of the law at 
 once." 
 
 " I will," was the answer.
 
 368 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 GRAHAM and Best entered the city again that 
 day. Their visit was made for two objective 
 reasons. First, Graham would see the United 
 States consul, a Mr. Penticost, and with him try 
 and arrange for Durand s arrest on charge of kid 
 napping and embezzlement. Second, he had not 
 seen Olive since the day before and he had much to 
 tell her. The duel had taken place and of course 
 she was in ignorance of it or its outcome, and he 
 would warn her to keep well inside the convent 
 unless he was near by. He, however, believed that 
 Durand was somewhat cowed, and perhaps would 
 attempt nothing further toward Olive at present, 
 yet he was not so sure regarding Durand s attitude 
 toward him. He felt adequate to handle that end 
 of it, and he gave this little thought. But Olive 
 should be warned. 
 
 He had secured the Abbess s consent that his 
 meetings with Olive should continue. Really the 
 Abbess saw no other way out of it. She realized 
 the happy couple would desire to meet. There was
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 369 
 
 no way of meeting, she knew, unless they continued 
 to drive. Certainly Graham could not come to the 
 convent and see Olive. She knew Graham to be 
 honest and good. She would help them. 
 
 The Abbess herself that day had seen the old man 
 Francisco and bade him go to a locksmith and get 
 a duplicate key made from the one he carried. The 
 old man, fearful and wondering what she could 
 want with the duplicate, complied. This key the 
 Abbess gave to Olive and warned her to be most 
 discreet in the way she emerged from or entered 
 the convent when going to meet her lover. 
 
 On the way into the city, at a turn in the road, 
 they sighted Mt. Pelee with the city of St. Pierre 
 at its feet, St. Pierre, the beautiful, the city 
 of beautiful gardens and southern foliage, and 
 withal the city of wickedness and the head of the 
 Satanists. 
 
 " Look, look," said Best, as he caught Graham s 
 arm. " Look at old Pelee." 
 
 Graham raised his eyes and beheld Mount Pelee, 
 or really a portion of it, for the upper half was 
 submerged in smoke, black and dense, clinging to 
 it like an enshrouding pall. Just then a breeze 
 brought to them the odor of sulphurous gases. 
 " Pelee is again active," said Best. " Yet how can 
 it be, for the old crater is a deep lake? " 
 
 " Some new crack perhaps, or a new crater." 
 24
 
 370 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Then for the first time they noticed the air 
 contained very fine particles of dust. 
 
 " Ashes," said Best as he flicked some off his 
 coat-sleeve. " Ashes surely and from Pelee. This 
 promises to be interesting." 
 
 As they looked they saw small streaks of light 
 ning playing in and out through the dense smoke 
 they had observed on Pelee s summit. They passed 
 natives who in awe and wonderment looked toward 
 the mountains. Some looked in open-mouthed won 
 derment, and did not see them as they passed. 
 Here and there a native stood and crossed himself 
 as his lips moved in prayer. Others knelt by a 
 roadside shrine of which there are many in this 
 Catholic country, just and noble reminders of the 
 good and sacrificing Jesuits who carried the tidings 
 of a risen Lord into every clime, worthy examples 
 which if emulated might have had a benign effect 
 on the wicked populace and changed a Sodom into 
 Eden. Those engaged in prayer at the shrines 
 mumbled incoherent words of mingled fear and pe 
 titions for mercy as they passed them. On the out 
 skirts of the city, Best alighted, and purchasing the 
 Petit Journal read of the developments in Pelee 
 affairs, read that the lake had disappeared, at least 
 so an adventurous scientific explorer, whose courage 
 and desire for facts led him up the mountain, stated. 
 
 The River Roxelane, having its source in Mt.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 371 
 
 Pelee, a small stream that ran through a portion 
 of the city, was running mud instead of water, evi 
 dences of seismic disturbance. The paper cautioned 
 the populace against excitement, counselling the 
 excitable to keep cool, and explaining that no reason 
 as yet was apparent for an exodus from the city. 
 The article further stated that undoubtedly a little 
 later the smoke would be accompanied by flames 
 from the crater s mouth, and that even this should 
 not alarm or disturb the people. 
 
 " Rather too rosy a view," said Best, as he fin 
 ished reading aloud the article. 
 
 " I know little of volcanoes," replied Graham, 
 " although for a number of years I have lived in 
 the shadow of Pelee, yet I hope these inhabitants 
 will not stay in this city, as did those of Pompeii, 
 until too late to escape an awful death. I deplore 
 the reason that prompts a paper in advising none 
 to leave. Commercialism is their only reason for 
 doing this." 
 
 These strong gases became more oppressive as 
 they entered the city, and thus came nearer the vol 
 cano. Occasionally smoke came down upon the part 
 of the town nearest the mountain, leaving a gray 
 coat in its wake. 
 
 Graham and Best were not altogether at ease 
 concerning Mt. Pelee s latest move. They recalled 
 now the strong sulphurous odors that they ob-
 
 372 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 served the day they were up Pelee s side. They felt 
 now that the slight disturbance accountable for 
 this was but the forerunner of the present con 
 dition, and they feared that even more violent dis 
 turbances would follow. Volcanoes seldom have 
 preliminaries without a convulsion following. 
 
 Their fear did not divert them from their mis 
 sion. Far from it. Graham had a debt to pay 
 his dead father, to fulfil his promise. Besides a 
 certain obligation to a little god, to whose equip 
 ment of a quiver and a bow Best had added a 
 kite and a ladder, had to be attended to. The lat 
 ter could wait just a little while. He would see 
 the consul first. 
 
 The city was built on a series of elevations, one 
 slightly above the other. The southern and 
 higher part of the town was the better part, that 
 is, the part wherein lived the most wealthy. The 
 residence of the American consul was here situ 
 ated, and from this place he transacted the affairs 
 of state that came under his jurisdiction. Toward 
 this place they drove. On reaching it, Graham 
 alighted and leaving Best without the house, passed 
 to the door of the legation, where his ring at the 
 door was answered by a servant. His card was pre 
 sented and a moment later he was informed that the 
 American minister, Mr. Penticost, was in and would 
 see Mr. Graham at once.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 373 
 
 They had met before at one or two social func 
 tions, to which the few American people of the is 
 land were invited, but Graham was too intent on 
 sugar-raising to pay much attention to dignitaries, 
 even though they were Americans, and so they were 
 not on over-intimate terms. 
 
 Graham entered the business office of the con 
 sul, and after short formalities gave the reason for 
 his visit, going to the core of the matter at once, 
 announcing that circumstances were opportune, lest 
 the man, Durand, make good his escape. He ex 
 plained he was looking for information as to how 
 to proceed, the legal process in line with this action 
 he did not understand. He would furnish proof 
 of what he said. He could offer the evidence of 
 the cliild who was robbed and stolen. He could, 
 he thought, bring forth the woman who did the kid 
 napping at the instigation of Durand. She was 
 here in St. Pierre and evidently had lost her in 
 fluence with her former master. So he went on, 
 forgetting no detail that had a bearing on the case, 
 eloquently telling the story as a fulfilment of a 
 promise to a dead father. 
 
 What would the American consul advise? How 
 should he proceed? 
 
 The consul sat and listened eagerly, listened as 
 one might listen to a tale that was simple and yet 
 deeply absorbing. In his official duties he came
 
 374 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 across many peculiar tales from those who courted 
 his assistance, tales that for the most part were 
 exaggerated, and told with the end in view of 
 gaining assistance, both financially and socially. 
 Yet here was one far out of the usual line. No 
 thought of doubt entered the consul s mind. He 
 believed the young man before him told the truth. 
 His fifty years experience with men and their arts 
 had taught him to search out and separate the 
 true from the false. His face, grave and noble, 
 showed even some agitation as he listened to the 
 story of a man s wrong-doing and an innocent 
 girl s peril. Yes, he would assist, so he asked his 
 first question. 
 
 " The proof, you say, can be relied upon as di 
 rect and convincing; no doubt as to establishing 
 the identity of this Durand or the girl, Olive 
 James? " 
 
 " No, for Durand in my presence and the pres 
 ence of others admitted his identity. And as to 
 the young lady, the Abbess at St. Mary s Convent 
 can vouch for her identity. The case is clear." 
 
 " Very well, I will apply to the French authori 
 ties here for permission to arrest the man at once. 
 You will make the complaint, of course, upon which 
 he will be arrested." 
 
 At this, he took some papers from his desk and 
 got out pen and ink. The complaint was being
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 375 
 
 made out when Consul Penticost said : " About 
 how long ago was this offence committed in New 
 York?" 
 
 " Some fifteen years ago." 
 
 The Consul sat back and whistled softly. " That 
 makes a difference. The man is not amenable to 
 the law for this crime now." 
 
 " What ? " asked the astonished Graham. " Not 
 amenable now? Why not?" 
 
 " In New York crimes of this nature outlaw in 
 five years." 
 
 " He must know this," said Graham, " for he 
 seemed not in the least perturbed when I threat 
 ened him with the law this morning." 
 
 " Yes," said the other. " He probably knows." 
 
 " Cannot he be arrested just the same, and thus 
 rid the young lady of his menacing presence? " 
 
 " Useless," said Mr. Penticost, " for he would 
 speedily be back here did he so choose, as a habeas 
 corpus proceeding under the circumstances would 
 readily free him. No, young man, it seems to me 
 that if he is ever brought to justice for this offence, 
 some other way will have to be found." 
 
 Graham was greatly disappointed. He had 
 longed for the time when retribution by the way of 
 the law would be Durand s portion. He had more 
 than a passing interest in it. Not alone his promise 
 to his father or the cause of Olive, but all just men,
 
 376 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 however brave, fear other men who are lawless. 
 He feared lest by some underhanded method and 
 cunning or stealthy way he or Olive would feel his 
 hand. Yet, even now he was to go scot free to 
 work more injury to the innocent perhaps, or to 
 kill some one with poisoned bullets. The consul 
 noted the great agitation in his face; saw that 
 thwarted look that came over his features. He 
 ventured to make an inquiry. 
 
 You desire this man s arrest at this time, do 
 you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, but not through vindictiveness. He 
 wronged my father; he wronged the girl, and I 
 would that he be punished for it, but if the lapse 
 of time has made him safe from the law, then 
 justice can only come to him by the hand of God, 
 as I told him this morning." 
 
 " But of the girl, mayhap you have more than 
 a passing interest in her and fear this man s in 
 fluence or interference?" 
 
 Graham saw what he was after and promptly said, 
 " She is my promised bride, and I do fear this man 
 may work her harm. A short time ago, he tried 
 again to abduct her. In fact he did this, and only 
 for the interference of a true friend of mine, who 
 is outside, he would have succeeded. My friend 
 disabled one of his horses and followed him, and 
 finally rescued the girl. This morning he and I
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 377 
 
 fought a duel on his invitation. I wounded him 
 slightly, while a wild shot of his hit a native in am 
 bush, whom he had hidden there with instructions 
 to kill me before I could fire. The native s pistol 
 missed fire, else I would have been dead ere this 
 and from a poisoned bullet, as this native afterward 
 confessed." 
 
 " Poisoned bullets, that sounds like a tale of the 
 western plains of America." 
 
 " Yes, sir, and poisoned with the venom of the 
 fer-de-lance too." 
 
 " Well, I do not blame you for wanting this man 
 taken care of. But if he knows that by the statute 
 of limitations his crime has outlawed, why does 
 he seek your life? " 
 
 " Ah," said Graham. " I had not told you he 
 loves this girl, or at least he so claims to her guard 
 ian, the Abbess." 
 
 " Loves her after having wronged her as he did ? 
 There is something in this that tells me he shall 
 find his deserts here. The very idea that he loves 
 this girl shows plainly that the worm is turning. 
 This process may be slow but will be effectual." 
 Then he looked at Graham sharply. " I have an 
 idea. While he cannot be dealt with for the old 
 offences, you said he undertook the abduction of this 
 girl recently. Then why not have him arrested 
 for this offence? French law processes are very
 
 378 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 slow. He would be in prison for at least a month 
 before being given a hearing or a chance to give 
 bail. In the meantime, my young man, I would 
 advise that you marry the girl, and then only can 
 you feel reasonably assured of a degree of safety 
 for her. This man seems to be a great villain, and 
 I would move at once against him." 
 
 " But, if it could be arranged, I would rather 
 Olive s name did not appear in the matter. She 
 is a very modest girl, and naturally would shrink 
 from a court-room." 
 
 " Your friend outside saw the attempt at abduc 
 tion you told me about. Then his word as a wit 
 ness is all that is desired. The young woman will 
 not be brought into it at all." 
 
 Best was summoned and the consul took his affi 
 davit, together with Graham s, as to what had tran 
 spired, promising that he would do the rest; he 
 would see the proper authorities and acquaint them 
 with the facts and see that Durand was at once ar 
 rested and incarcerated. 
 
 They talked of the latest action of Mount Pelee 
 for a moment, and started to withdraw, but as they 
 passed out, the building under their feet shook 
 quite perceptibly, and a dull roar was heard that 
 seemed to come from the bowels of the earth. 
 
 " Pelee is growling inwardly," said Best. 
 
 Outside, the populace did not look on this latest
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 379 
 
 action of the earth with the same equanimity of 
 feeling as did Best. Ignorance and superstition 
 are twin brothers, born of darkness, and nowhere 
 more rampant than in this southern isle of the sea, 
 and so this people s ignorance accounted for their 
 great fear and they, men and women, rushed from 
 their low, stucco houses. 
 
 Our friends, as they came into the more thickly 
 populated part of the city, met many natives decked 
 perhaps scantily, showing they had been dressing 
 at the time. Others came fully dressed, bearing 
 some cherished treasure. One girl held in her hand 
 a corset, another a pair of shoes, while a third 
 seemed contented that she was permitted to take 
 with her her only article that contributed to the 
 making of her toilet, a tooth-brush. They lined the 
 streets, their faces blank and fearsome, their eyes 
 large and white, fairly starting from their sockets. 
 Moving among these natives were men of cool 
 minds and judgment who were advising against 
 an exodus from the city. A few, however, could 
 not be quieted, but the greater part finally re- 
 entered their homes. 
 
 It was near nightfall as our friends drew up 
 at the Plaza, where the occupants had concluded 
 to dine, and where Best would finally await the 
 other s return ere they went home. They expected 
 to encounter Durand here and cared not if they
 
 380 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 did, hoping their presence might awe him further 
 than had the marksmanship of each, as he had con 
 clusively evidenced. Nor were they disappointed. 
 
 The dining-room of the Plaza was a most elabo 
 rate affair, if floral decorations counted. As most 
 of its guests were foreigners, the manager had felt 
 it wise that these be allowed to feast their eyes 
 upon beauteous orchids. 
 
 Through the bowers of flowers moved the wait 
 resses, fairest of Martinique s daughters, tall of form 
 and lithe of body, whose faces belied not the 
 French blood that flowed through their veins. 
 
 Tables, about which were seated lovely women 
 and men in evening dress, lent a charm to the scene. 
 These diners for the most part were followers of 
 a strange, freakish religion, and who loved to call 
 one another by that name that to most people would 
 have been a synonym for fiendishness, Satanist. 
 But Graham and Best knew not of their identity. 
 
 Mademoiselle Sara, most radiantly attired, was 
 there, and of course they recognized her. Sur 
 rounded by her friends she was the center of at 
 traction, they anxious to pay homage to a celeb 
 rity of their order. Durand too was present. He 
 dined sullenly by himself. It was noticed that his 
 hand was bandaged, and that this interfered with 
 its free using in handling his food. He glowered 
 upon his adversaries of the morning, and did not re-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 381 
 
 turn Best s taunting nod. He ate little, and after 
 seeing Graham seemed lost in thought. He hur 
 ried through and passed out, giving them a con 
 temptuous look as he went close to their table. 
 
 " Will he be arrested to-night ? " asked Best. 
 
 " I hope so, but probably not. Considerable red 
 tape has to be complied with first. In the morning, 
 however, it will come." 
 
 But they knew not of a new plot, a new scheme 
 of revenge he had hatched, while he looked upon 
 them, and which he would proceed to execute before 
 the night was much older.
 
 382 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 DURAND had never doubted from the first but 
 that he would possess Olive. Certain difficulties 
 had arisen and he would be obliged to wait until 
 they were overcome, then he could go ahead. Gra 
 ham, he considered as one of these obstacles. He 
 must be overcome. Durand had for some time 
 wondered who that hard-fisted young man was 
 whom he had twice encountered as he sought Olive. 
 At any rate, he knew him to be a rival suitor and 
 an aggressive one at that, with a friend who was 
 always close at hand, and whose able assistance 
 could be relied upon. 
 
 After his attempted abduction of Olive, he 
 thought it best to find out his opponents, and if 
 possible first conquer them. They called on him 
 and made this easy. He appreciated this, but he 
 was much surprised to learn that one of the young 
 men, the one he considered his rival, was none 
 other than the son of his old-time employer, and 
 in whose interest the father had reluctantly con 
 sented to maintain silence while he pilfered the 
 coffers of the funds he held in trust. He laughed
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 383 
 
 as he reviewed this. It was only when in a rem 
 iniscent mood and as he thought of the little tricks 
 by which he had been benefited that he allowed 
 himself to smile. 
 
 During the call of Graham and his friend upon 
 him, he felt that he must in some way rid himself 
 of this young man s presence, for he well knew 
 that Graham would attempt to bring him to justice 
 on the old score. He would harass Graham pur 
 posely. First, however, he would try that same 
 measure that villains always try, that of a compro 
 mise. He would try to bribe him to keep silence. 
 He would give him a slice of the estate as the 
 price of silence. If this failed he would provoke 
 a duel, and he would take precious care that no harm 
 came to himself. He would employ outside forces 
 to assist him. 
 
 The offer of a compromise was rejected with 
 more violence than he bargained for, and he would 
 have killed Graham then and there had not Best 
 interfered. Then he provoked Graham further by 
 claiming that his father had shared in the spoils. 
 He knew he had said the right thing, and at once 
 pushed matters toward the duel. 
 
 But he did not like the duel s ending. That 
 idiot Le Tosco had undoubtedly soaked the bullets 
 in the poison too long and thus made some of them 
 worthless, yet the one that did not miss fire was
 
 384 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the one from his own pistol that found a lodging 
 place in Le Tosco s leg. A bungling job at the best 
 had Le Tosco made of it, and Durand was not 
 sorry that he had been hit. He had no one to blame 
 but himself and Durand cared so little that he had 
 not even made inquiry concerning him. What he 
 was most concerned about was that the plot had 
 failed. He was anxious that another one might be 
 launched and successfully ended. 
 
 Notwithstanding Graham s warnings, which, by 
 the way, Graham had hoped would prove efficacious, 
 Durand yet treasured thoughts of revenge, aye, 
 even more serious now than before the wound to his 
 hand was administered. When he saw his enemies 
 dining at the Plaza, even before they saw him, 
 he had set his most fiendish deliberations to work. 
 
 Here now was his chance. He would take no 
 partners this time. Alone would he kill this man 
 Graham. He knew that Graham would in all proba 
 bility meet Olive, and that they, in spite of the fall 
 ing ashes and the earthquake, would take a drive 
 about the city. He knew this not from conjecture 
 alone, but from certain circumstances that had come 
 to his knowledge. After sending the anonymous 
 letter to the Abbess, he had set Le Tosco to watch 
 over the convent and mark developments. It hap 
 pened that Le Tosco was only on duty in the even 
 ing at the Plaza, or from twelve o clock at noon
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 385 
 
 until twelve midnight. So that the day the 
 note to the Abbess was delivered, that worthy re 
 ported that a young man had just entered the con 
 vent. Le Tosco s description of his size and bear 
 ing tallied with that of Graham. So he doubted 
 not that the Abbess knew of Olive s meetings with 
 him. He even thought perhaps she favored this 
 young man as Olive s suitor, and for that reason 
 had refused him what he asked. Knowing then 
 that his enemy would go home later, he went to 
 his room and carefully laid plans. 
 
 An hour and a half after this he ordered his car 
 riage to be brought to the door, went down, and 
 entering it started away alone. Wandering about 
 the crooked streets of the city, he at last drove out 
 along the St. Pierre road. Coming to the place 
 where the duel of the morning was fought, he 
 turned from the road and halted near this spot. 
 Hastily alighting, as if he would accomplish it 
 before any one passed, he took both lamps from 
 the carriage and extinguished the lights. The night 
 was very dark, as was usual here when the moon 
 did not shine. It suited his purpose, this darkness, 
 for he did not wish to be seen. He was far enough 
 from the roadway so that the lights from the pass 
 ing carriages would not make visible his presence. 
 
 Taking from his pocket his pistol he threw it on 
 the seat, and then climbed in himself. He was 
 looking for a rig with two occupants. 
 25
 
 386 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The hour was late, and he was certain that if 
 one thus laden should appear it would surely be the 
 one of his enemies. 
 
 Ten to fifteen minutes elapsed before he heard 
 the on-coming of a fast approaching wagon. It is 
 said that Caesar s hesitancy before crossing the 
 boundary river of his province was by reason of 
 quakings for the result. Not so with Durand. No 
 palpitation, no nervousness. His left hand could 
 not be relied upon, as the morning had proven, and 
 he only wondered if the bandages on his right 
 would interfere with his aim. 
 
 The wagon came nearer. The bend of the road 
 caused the sweep of the light from the lamps to 
 circle in the opposite side. He was ready. 
 
 He cocked the pistol with his left, and placed it 
 in his right hand. Those he took to be his enemies 
 came even with him and passed on. They had 
 scarcely passed a dozen yards when a pistol shot 
 rang out on the night air. 
 
 When the others had gone by, the glow from 
 their carriage lamp made a circle of light which 
 cast its rays ahead and not behind. One looking 
 into this light from behind as Durand did, saw 
 plainly the outlines of the two passengers in relief 
 against this light. 
 
 Durand, being able to see well, aimed at the man 
 seated at the right, at the driver. By the same
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 387 
 
 light he saw this one pitch forward as his shot rang 
 out. 
 
 " Damn you, I got you this time," he said, as 
 he started his horses homeward, not daring to re 
 light the lamps until well on the way. His thoughts 
 ran like this. "If Graham is dead no suspicion can 
 be cast on me. Upon whom, then, unless upon this 
 Best, can suspicion fall? Alone and riding by 
 night, a shot in the back too. It would be plainly 
 established by a sharp lawyer that Best pulled a 
 pistol at the other s back and did the trick." 
 
 Yet Best s actions at this moment hardly coin 
 cided with what Durand, if he were suspected, would 
 try to prove. He heard the shot and saw his friend 
 pitch forward. He knew at once what had been 
 done, aye, and who had done it. As Graham 
 slipped forward he released his hold on the lines, 
 but Best caught them at once. Horses when guided 
 are man s slaves, but when in motion and uncon 
 trolled they become devils. Yet here was no time 
 for an exhibition of devilish tricks, for Best dex 
 terously saved the day. He saw that Graham was 
 in danger of falling to the ground, and catching 
 him with his free hand he also saved the day so 
 far as an upset was concerned. A wide swerve in 
 their tracks was all he allowed the horses to per 
 form. Taking in the situation, he placed a foot on 
 either side of Graham s body, which by this time
 
 3 88 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 had slid to a position at his knees, and hitched along 
 in the driver s seat. 
 
 Best knew that a surgeon should be seen at once, 
 but first the patient must be rallied, if alive, and 
 made comfortable, so he gave the horse the whip 
 and away they flew. The speed was awful. The 
 wagon rocked this way and that way, leaping and 
 plunging. 
 
 It must be remembered that this day Pelee s act 
 ivity alarmed the island s inhabitants thoroughly, 
 and while these natives along the Fort de France 
 road were used to the presence of vehicles, yet to 
 night, as a team and wagon with its two flaming 
 lights sped by, hearing the roar of wheels, the 
 tramp of hoofs, the superstitious ones mistook it to 
 be a further demonstration of the power of hidden 
 forces, and rushed from their homes. Best glanced 
 from the corner of his eye and saw them kneel and 
 pray, and to this day, those who by distance from 
 Pelee escaped from the awful cataclysm that fol 
 lowed later, declare that the devil rode the Fort de 
 France road that night, his chariot drawn by 
 racing dragons. 
 
 The terrific speed was only slackened a little as 
 Best sighted the habitation of the wounded man. 
 He drew up, stopped short and alone bore the body 
 of the yet unconscious Graham within the house. 
 After getting a light he summoned the native serv-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 389 
 
 ant and his wife and together they carried Gra 
 ham to his own room, where his wound was exam 
 ined and he was put to bed. It was seen that a 
 long abrasion away across the top of his head, a 
 bloody wound, was the place wherein the enemy s 
 bullet had done its work. The bullet had struck the 
 skull a glancing blow, thereby saving his life, and 
 had glanced along over the scalp, a wound some six 
 inches long and as deep as the scalp would permit. 
 
 Best s first thought was, that the bullet was pois 
 oned. No, he well knew it was not, for the ex 
 periment of the morning had proven the inefficacy 
 of bullets soaked in poison. 
 
 Leaving the servants to watch over his friend, 
 instructing them how to care for him, Best walked 
 forth again, entered the carriage, and sped toward 
 the city, in quest of a surgeon. He was gone 
 scarcely an hour, when he returned, bringing the 
 only one he knew, he who had attended the duel 
 of the morning. 
 
 " The wound is not dangerous," said the doctor. 
 " He will live." 
 
 Until nearly morning they worked over Graham. 
 At last their efforts were rewarded. He opened 
 his eyes and inquired what had happened. Quietly 
 Best told him all, and added, " Your enemy shoots 
 better by night than by day." 
 
 " You think then it was Durand ? " 
 
 "Certainly," said Best, "who else?"
 
 390 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 GRAHAM rapidly recovered, but upon the advice 
 of the surgeon, remained quiet for several days. 
 After the soreness had subsided, he was able to be 
 about and was comfortable, save that he was not 
 permitted to see Olive, and the reports of Pelee s 
 activity disquieted him. 
 
 The morning after his injury, Best came to the 
 convent to tell Olive of Graham s mishap. A little 
 accident on the return the previous night had hap 
 pened, he explained, and Olive attributed his in 
 jury to mere accident to the wagon. Best and Gra 
 ham thought it well to keep her in ignorance as to 
 the source of his injury, fearful that if Durand s 
 name was mentioned, it would cause her undue 
 worry. 
 
 Olive wished to go to her lover at once, but she 
 could not go alone, and the Abbess of course could 
 not accompany her, so she was forced to stay at 
 the convent, however, exacting from Best a promise 
 that he would come and report Graham s condi 
 tion to her every day. This Best faithfully did, 
 carrying back and forth letters that breathed of
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 391 
 
 fervent love and sympathy on one side, and on the 
 other fervent love and regret that the writer could 
 not come himself as the messenger. Nor were the 
 messages Best brought to Graham entirely reas 
 suring, for they told every day of some new feat 
 of the volcano at the north, told of more ashes, 
 more gases, and earthquakes of which Graham 
 already knew, as the latter were felt the island 
 over. They told of the concern and consternation 
 of the people. An exodus from the town had 
 thinned the population by perhaps one fifth. The 
 remaining portion evidently had resolved to stay, 
 defying Pelee to do its worst. 
 
 One day Best came back from the city and re 
 ported that draft horses fell in the streets, suffo 
 cating and dying from the gases that permeated the 
 air; of people dying likewise or made mad through 
 fear. Another time he told how a stream of mud and 
 lava had flowed down the southeast exposure of 
 the mountain, and destroyed plantations and one 
 immense sugar refinery, on its way to the sea. 
 
 Graham was as apprehensive of Pelee as any 
 native, not that he feared for himself, for distance 
 made his place secure from any attempt Pelee might 
 make to destroy the city; but there was Olive; yes, 
 and the Abbess with her brood. Somehow they all 
 seemed dear to him now, irrespective of color. He 
 feared for their safety. One of his notes to Olive
 
 392 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 contained a word to the Abbess, a word of advice, 
 and praying that she would quit the city. He had 
 commenced building on the plantation a storage 
 building that at this season was unoccupied. The 
 children and the nuns could be housed there, while 
 the Abbess and Olive could come under his own 
 roof. He cited the situation as extremely preca 
 rious. He hoped the Abbess would confer with the 
 Bishop and arrange to come. He would be pleased 
 if the Bishop would come also. Delay might mean 
 death. Anyway if Pelee should give no further 
 trouble, if they were beyond its harmful reach, she 
 and the children would be benefited, as the appre 
 hension they must feel and suffer would here be 
 alleviated. 
 
 The Abbess was most grateful for the hospitable 
 offer of Mr. Graham, but she had conferred with 
 the Bishop, who assured her that no harm would 
 befall them if they remained, but the Abbess added, 
 " For myself I can say that I should feel much more 
 secure were we enjoying your offer." 
 
 Graham sighed as he finished. " So much for 
 the judgment and discretion of the Bishop," as 
 he snapped his fingers, " yet I suppose the Bishop s 
 word is law unto the Abbess and nuns." 
 
 Best each day brought back the Petit Journal, 
 and before even reading of the consecutive move 
 ments of Pelee, they scanned the columns each issue
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 393 
 
 for a notice that Durand had been arrested, but saw 
 none. This also worried the housed-up Graham, 
 for since the shot in the dark that had most mirac 
 ulously avoided killing him, he hoped for the ap 
 prehension of this man that all concerned might 
 feel safer. 
 
 On the fourth day after he was wounded he 
 bade Best, as the latter was making ready for his 
 daily visit to the city, to call upon Mr. Penticost 
 again, and ascertain from him news regarding the 
 case against Durand. 
 
 Best did this, but the consul could give him no 
 information further than the fact that the author 
 ities were looking into the standing of Best and 
 Graham, the complainants. Later they would move 
 in the matter he felt sure. Graham groaned in 
 spirit. Pending the working out of this official 
 red tape, the culprit could leave the island did he 
 so choose. 
 
 The day following, Graham was much improved. 
 The vertigo, a result of the injury, had en 
 tirely left him, and his head had healed to the ex 
 tent that he could wear the soft cap Best had 
 brought him from the city to replace the one de 
 stroyed by Durand s bullet. He felt he could no 
 longer stay away from Olive. He must see her. 
 He would call and see the consul himself, and from 
 there go and take Olive for the drive that had been
 
 394 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 delayed for several days. He thought if he could 
 see her and explain the serious outlook the out 
 break of Pelee had to him, possibly some of his 
 fear might be transmitted through her to the Abbess 
 and from the Abbess to the Bishop, who mayhap 
 would alter his mind, and allow the convent 
 people to change their habitation, if only for a few 
 days, or until the activity of the volcano ceased. 
 He wished he might take Olive, even if the others 
 remained behind, but did not hope to do this. 
 
 For a couple of days past, violent detonations of 
 thunder had shaken the foundations of the island, 
 and these were felt at Graham s plantation, while 
 at night the whole northern part of the island was 
 lighted by the almost perpetual lightning that 
 played about the crater, evidencing to all the cause 
 of the thunder. While Graham knew this, yet he 
 did not know the true conditions existing in the 
 city this day; did not know that semi-darkness had 
 hung over it this afternoon, a darkness caused by 
 smoke and ashes filling the air. Perhaps had he 
 known this, he would have gone for Olive and in 
 sisted on her coming away with him or even com 
 manding her, were it necessary. But matters had 
 grown worse since Best was in the city that morn 
 ing. He did not know that within the city the 
 pavement gave no answering ring to the tramp of 
 the horses iron shod hoofs, that the vehicles as
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 395 
 
 they rolled along through the eight or ten inches 
 of ashes gave forth only muffled sounds; that the 
 insects had taken to cover in the pores of the earth; 
 that the birds no longer sang but instead perched 
 on the branches of the thick-foliaged mangoes to 
 protect themselves from the rain of ashes and 
 smoke. 
 
 Yet this was true. Mount Pelee was about to 
 commit the greatest of modern tragedies and had 
 given warning to those of the ill-fated city, who, 
 unmindful, bought and sold in the markets and 
 " married and were given in marriage " up to the 
 day of judgment, as did those of Sodom and Go 
 morrah. 
 
 Graham was much surprised at the conditions 
 within the city. He felt that Olive must suffer 
 terribly from fear, she who had been reared in a 
 convent where at least the young are more suscep 
 tible to things of a terrifying nature than those 
 reared less carefully. He blamed the Bishop for 
 his error in judgment in keeping the Abbess and her 
 people within the city. Certainly he, whose word 
 must be law here, was in error. 
 
 He came to the city, he found the ashes so deep 
 that it was with difficulty he moved about, and then 
 only slowly. Yet there was not a dearth of people 
 in the streets, for they, unmindful of the threaten 
 ing calamity, and reassured of the conditions by
 
 396 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 those who claimed to possess cooler heads, were to 
 be seen moving about their daily duties. 
 
 The city was in partial darkness he noted, and 
 to relieve this the electric lights were trying to 
 shed some artificial rays upon the darksome, ap 
 palling gloom, and with little result as their light 
 only permeated a small circle. 
 
 Best had not accompanied him, as he was suf 
 fering from a severe headache. He knew Graham 
 was not over strong as yet, and gladly would have 
 come with him, yet he knew not of the enhanced 
 critical conditions within the city, and so remained 
 behind. 
 
 He drove to the United States Consulate. He 
 rang the bell. No answer came in response. He 
 tried it again. The same result. Then he knew 
 Mr. Penticost with his family and servants had left 
 the city, as many had done, for fear of the conse 
 quences of Pelee s activity. If Mr. Penticost 
 thought it wise to flee, why did not others? Why 
 did not the Bishop allow the convent people to go 
 also. 
 
 Graham dined at the Plaza again. If the guests 
 had been richly appareled when he with Best dined 
 there last, to-night they far outshone that other 
 night in the matter of jewels and fancy raiment. 
 No Parisian salon or fashionable cafe ever con 
 tained a more dazzling show of white polished
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 397 
 
 shoulders and bare arms, the one laden with trap 
 pings of sapphire and diamonds or pearls. It was 
 indeed a scene that outshone the dazzling crowd 
 at the Cafe de Noir when Durand was first intro 
 duced to the Devil Worshippers, or of that throng 
 that gathered about the festive board after his in 
 itiation in the banquet room of the Temple of Satan 
 in Paris. 
 
 Unmindful of the falling ashes outside, of the 
 gloom that since night had fallen was impenetrable, 
 or the detonations that now and then were heard, 
 even though the lightning flashes were obscured 
 by the gloom, these merry diners seemed una 
 ware of the dismal outlook, of the appalling sense 
 of fright that should have been theirs. Instead, 
 their hilarity seemed to Graham to be intensified 
 past the point of discretion. He noticed that they 
 consumed much wine, but as yet it had no effect 
 save that of loosening their tongues and giving 
 quicker action to the brain. 
 
 He noticed two people whom he had seen before, 
 Mademoiselle Sara and La Monta. Mademoiselle 
 Sara unmindful, as she looked upon Graham, of the 
 frowns of M. Divan, smiled and nodded, while 
 Divan turned his sodden eyes upon him and stared. 
 
 An hour later, leaving the merry diners behind, 
 he departed from the Plaza, amidst a gloom whose 
 impenetrable blackness was all the time just ahead.
 
 398 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The falling ashes flitted through the air and blew 
 about the street corners in drifts a foot high, 
 little gusts of the land breeze swept it about, re 
 minding him of snow-storms in the northern country 
 that was once his home. But he drove ahead into 
 the gloom. 
 
 With difficulty he reached the convent garden 
 gate. He would not blame Olive did she forbear 
 coming out this night, yet knew she would. Per 
 haps they had better chat a little and then part. 
 They could chat at the gate to-night without being 
 disturbed. No curious eye of a passing pedestrian 
 would see them for there were few abroad, save 
 only those who, mayhap, were bent on errands of 
 love or mischief. He had not long to wait. He 
 did not see Olive, until she was at the gate, be 
 cause of the gloom. He was out to greet her, and 
 as she offered him her hand he noticed it trembled. 
 
 " An awful night," he ventured to remark. 
 " Perhaps we are foolish in starting out." 
 
 There is a fate that guides us at times it seems, 
 and makes our pathway easy. That fate makes no 
 wild gesticulations, as at the cross-roads it bids 
 us go this way or that. Instead of signals it 
 reaches out, takes us by the hand and leads us. This 
 fate was kind to these lovers that night, for it was 
 written that they no more would leave this convent 
 under these circumstances. Aye, they did not know
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 399 
 
 it then, but by the fact that they refrained not from 
 this night ride, they yet live. 
 
 Graham at once began questioning Olive as to 
 the state of terror that reigned in the convent since 
 the unusual action of Pelee this day. He found 
 the Abbess had exhibited no great fear, yet Olive 
 noticed as she moved about dispensing cheer and 
 counseling bravery that her face was very pale. 
 The nuns and little ones had shown less fortitude. 
 The afternoon had been spent indoors by all the 
 children, huddled in little groups here and there 
 about the halls and recitation rooms, the nuns at 
 the sanctuary in deep prayer. She told him the 
 Abbess had again importuned the Bishop that they 
 might escape from the city, accepting the invitation 
 of Graham, but that the holy man persisted in be 
 lieving that no harm would befall those who stayed 
 within the city. 
 
 "Are you not afraid to stay here, Olive?" he 
 asked. 
 
 For a reply, she huddled close to him and took 
 his arm in hers. 
 
 " Would you not prefer to come to my home, 
 you and the others ? " 
 
 Falteringly she answered, " Yes, I would. I am 
 fearful that something dreadful will happen. I 
 know little of what takes place in the city, but on 
 every hand, from the Abbess, and even the Bishop,
 
 400 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 I learn that the city is very wicked. With this 
 visitation so evident, it makes me fear that God 
 will avenge the wrongs committed against Him. 
 The Abbess has told me of those awful blasphemers, 
 the Devil Worshippers, who have a temple here. 
 I have thought much about them all day, and it has 
 impressed me that he might now punish them for 
 their idolatry and blasphemy." 
 
 Yes," said her lover, " the city is most wicked 
 and I fear for its ultimate ending, or at least for the 
 ultimate ending of the people, but just now I am 
 more interested in your welfare and those in the 
 convent, whom I have come to regard favorably. 
 Do you think the Bishop would lend an ear to my 
 efforts did I seek to convince him of the danger of 
 staying here? " 
 
 " Yes, no, I don t know ; but try it, will you ? " 
 
 * Yes, in the morning, if nothing prevents, I will 
 call on him and argue the case. Believe me, I will 
 argue it most eloquently." She knew he meant that 
 his love for her would be the inspiration for his 
 eloquence. 
 
 A half hour later they had hardly gone two miles 
 about the city because of the impediment the vol 
 cano had sent. They continued on their way for a 
 time, talking as only lovers can. 
 
 The horse became weary. Graham urged him 
 on. His pace was growing slower and finally he
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 401 
 
 stopped. A great coughing sound escaped him and 
 he lay down. Graham was out and examining him 
 at once. The horse shuddered, coughed again and 
 lay quiet. He was dead, suffocated. 
 
 Olive sat quiet, in the meantime, wondering what 
 the trouble might be. Graham s words to her 
 were not reassuring. " Can you walk back, dear 
 est?" 
 
 "Why, yes," she said, "what is the matter?" 
 
 " The horse is dead. I am afraid we will have 
 to abandon the wagon here. How will I get home, 
 even if we reach the convent?" 
 
 " Cannot a livery be found ? " 
 
 " No livery will venture a rig out to-night. I 
 will take you to the convent and then stop at the 
 Plaza for the night. Best will worry, but that can 
 not be helped." 
 
 He helped her down from her seat. She held 
 her skirts in her hand to keep them from sweeping 
 the ashes. 
 
 Graham felt perfectly at home so far as their lo 
 cation was concerned. They walked on for a dozen 
 blocks, long and short as the irregular city af 
 forded. 
 
 " Strange," said he, " but I thought we should 
 have come out on the Rue Victor Hugo before this. 
 Can it be we are lost in so small a city? If so, the 
 26
 
 402 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 darkness and winding streets are responsible rather 
 than the size of the town." 
 
 They retraced their steps for a time. Graham 
 tried hard to get his bearings, but failed. Olive 
 felt well worn out through the day, and when 
 the horse died she felt like crying, but did not. 
 Now she burst into tears. 
 
 " Ah," she sobbed, " we are lost, and at such a 
 time as this." 
 
 He might have been more reassuring, but he also 
 was a bit terrified by the confronting facts, and 
 moreover he was not yet strong and felt himself 
 growing weaker. This was responsible for his 
 answer. 
 
 " Yes, I fear we are lost." 
 
 He felt the hand on his arm relax. He turned 
 and in the darkness saw her reel slightly. She must 
 have shelter. He grasped her in his arms and 
 stalked up the approach to a brick house, of whose 
 large outline he could see but a part. As he ap 
 proached it, carrying the fainting Olive, he saw, 
 through the Ethiopian darkness, windows from 
 which a dull, red glare shone forth. Opening the 
 door, not pausing to ceremoniously knock, or ring 
 the bell, he set Olive down inside and stepped in 
 after her.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 403 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AFTER the duel Durand had paid no attention to 
 the wounded Le Tosco. " Bah," he thought, " the 
 idiot has blundered. He deserved to be shot and 
 suffer." Next time he would entrust with his deli 
 cate work only those who were apt or cute, and not 
 a money-loving nigger like this. So he dismissed 
 Le Tosco altogether from his mind, not even in 
 quiring after him or his wound. He might be 
 dead for all he knew or cared. To inquire after 
 him or to pay the surgeon s bill did not enter his 
 mind, as being a just and proper thing to do. He 
 used his money where it benefited himself. Le 
 Tosco, if he had succeeded in killing Graham, would 
 have been well paid. As it turned out, he must 
 provide his own surgeon, so far as Durand was 
 concerned. 
 
 Yet Le Tosco had not fared badly since his in 
 jury. Far from it. His bills had been paid, his 
 table supplied and he himself well cared for. The 
 promptness of the surgeon in applying the tour 
 niquet had saved his life. The wound was opened 
 wide and long. In a few days the swelling had
 
 404 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 subsided and he was much better. The hardihood 
 of the negro race stood him well in hand, and he 
 recovered quickly. 
 
 Mile. Sara it was who had paid his bills, who had 
 furnished his table. On her advice, he refrained 
 from working, even when well enough to do so. She 
 seemed to have taken a strange fancy to him. He 
 did not understand why but he was willing, so long 
 as she maintained him in idleness. He did not 
 know it, but she was training him to do her will. 
 She was impressing upon him that to her he owed 
 great gratitude and obedience. Like a horse being 
 fitted for the race, she was training Le Tosco for a 
 major part in a tragedy she would soon stage. 
 And the motive for that tragedy was the slogan 
 that prompted her. It was to be found in the word 
 revenge, a word sweet to the wronged or vindictive. 
 
 Durand had in public rejected her when before 
 Graham and Best he denounced her. Those 
 references to the similarity between her and 
 Potiphar s wife should not go unpunished. He 
 would be made to bite the dust. She would kill. 
 Yes and Le Tosco would do it for her. She would 
 make him do it, and he would be willing ere she had 
 finished with him. So she worked into the graces 
 of Le Tosco and his wife. She called on him every 
 day. She told the surgeon to call every day. She 
 paid the bills and the surgeon well knew Le Tosco
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 405 
 
 no longer required his skill, yet the pay was good, 
 and why should he not call? 
 
 As for Le Tosco, he liked it and so did his wife. 
 The beautiful French lady surely must love them 
 to do so much for them. In this way, she completely 
 won their confidence. One day as they sat together, 
 she having generously emptied a w r ell filled purse 
 in the dusky wife s hand, she suddenly asked: 
 
 " Le Tosco, did you and M. Durand ever quarrel 
 previous to that duel?" 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Because I am looking for the motive he had in 
 trying to kill you." 
 
 "Kill me? He did not try to. It was an accident." 
 
 " Bah ! " said the crafty Sara. " He wanted to 
 hit you." 
 
 " I can t believe it, Mademoiselle. Can t believe 
 it." 
 
 " Can t believe it. Why not ? He has not been 
 to see you nor to care for you. Where is there a 
 gentleman who at least would do less than inquire 
 for you, to say nothing about paying the surgeon s 
 bill for a poor man he had wounded? " 
 
 Le Tosco was silent for a moment. Then he said, 
 " He was most generous before this." 
 
 To be sure, he was looking out then that you 
 did not escape him." 
 
 Le Tosco moaned. "Do you believe it?"
 
 406 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Certainly I believe it. Why did his shot go far 
 wide of his opponent ? It was meant for you." 
 
 " Why should he want to kill me ? " said the 
 alarmed native. 
 
 This inquiry rather staggered the sagacious and 
 quick-witted adventuress for a moment, but her 
 wits came to her suddenly. She knew the deep- 
 rooted superstition of the colored race. She would 
 play upon that superstition. She also well knew 
 that the presence of the Devil Worshippers and their 
 temple was known to the natives, that they feared it 
 and cared not to go near it alone at night, that the 
 mention of the cult drove frantic thoughts through 
 their minds and played havoc with their judgment. 
 Confidentially she leaned forward, raising her finger 
 to her lips in token of great secrecy and whispered 
 hoarsely, " M. Durand is a Devil Worshipper." 
 
 His mulatto skin whitened. He trembled and 
 raised a palsied hand. " No, can it be? " 
 
 " Yes, it is true." 
 
 Mile. Sara was a psychologist. She knew she 
 had touched a chord in Le Tosco s sensibilities that 
 would work out to her desires. Le Tosco would no 
 longer try and reason out a motive for Durand s 
 actions. She had cast the dart that would tell. She 
 arose and departed. 
 
 The next day Mile. Sara called again. She 
 talked of many things. Le Tosco was better. She
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 407 
 
 could see it in his countenance. Would he soon go 
 back to work at the Plaza? She had inquired and 
 found that the management were holding the place 
 open for their former valuable employe. Le Tosco 
 discovered he was much improved. Yes, he would 
 soon be back at work. In fact this day he would 
 go and see about his former place. So he would. 
 His manner was nervous and agitated when in her 
 presence. She saw he wished to talk about some 
 thing else, but she did not assist him by mentioning 
 the topic she knew he wanted mentioned. After a 
 time she arose to leave the small stucco house he 
 called his home. He felt he must speak now. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he commenced, " are you certain 
 M. Durand wanted to kill me?" 
 
 She merely smiled in reply. 
 
 "Why should he?" he asked. 
 
 " To feed you to his devils," she replied. Her 
 reply caused her to smile, but he did not see it. 
 Again he was agitated, more so than the day 
 previous. 
 
 " Will he try it again ? " he inquired. 
 
 " The devils are always hungry," and she was 
 off, while the affrighted, superstitious negro looked 
 after her. He shook his head as she passed out of 
 sight. 
 
 " I must do it," he muttered to himself, glancing
 
 408 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 at his wife lest she should hear him. " I must do 
 it." 
 
 The next day Le Tosco was back at work at the 
 Plaza. Mile. Sara saw him, and welcomed him 
 cheerfully. When he had time would he come to 
 her room ? She would see him. Shortly afterward 
 he came. 
 
 " Le Tosco," she said, " how are you going to 
 repay M. Durand for his attempt to kill you? " 
 
 His eyes rolled this way and that before he 
 replied. Then it came, straight from the frightened 
 negro s heart : " I will kill him." 
 
 Mile. Sara showed no surprise. To have done 
 so might have caused him to change his mind. She 
 looked at him a second, and then asked simply 
 "How?" 
 
 " I don t know how, but I will." 
 
 " Le Tosco, he would kill you with the poison 
 of the fer de lance? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered, but he failed to see what 
 she would bring out. 
 
 " Then I would kill him in the same way." 
 
 " Not with a poisoned bullet. I would be de 
 tected." 
 
 " They who would slay with the sword must 
 perish by the sword," quoted Sara. " Let the fer 
 de lance do its own work on him." 
 
 "How?"
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 409 
 
 She leaned forward and they whispered together, 
 whispering for the very reason that she remembered 
 even walls may have ears. 
 
 The day following was set for carrying out the 
 plot. Le Tosco left his home in the morning and 
 proceeded on foot out of the city and to the north 
 toward Pelee. He was amazed at the prevalent 
 conditions, the result of Pelee s activity. 
 
 The conditions grew worse as he came nearer the 
 foot of the volcano. He was too engrossed to 
 experience alarm just now. For a few days, he had 
 felt he must move forward if he would destroy the 
 man who sought his life ; aye, who was not fit to live 
 himself and who by his devil worshipping practices 
 was a destroyer of the faith that with Le Tosco was 
 a mania. 
 
 Le Tosco went well out of the city and then drove 
 into the thicket that touched the roadside, skirting 
 Mt. Pelee s base. Up the foothills through the 
 ash he climbed a distance; then came into a path 
 that ascended the mountain diagonally. In the midst 
 of thick foliage he stopped in front of a peculiar, 
 stone-like pile, that on the outside resembled closely 
 a vault for the dead. Indeed it was the front of a 
 hovel that was made by excavating back into the 
 earth, as are made our modern vaults. In the center 
 of this stone work was a door. On this Le Tosco 
 rapped hard.
 
 410 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The door was pushed a little way open and a face 
 of Nubian darkness protruded. 
 
 " Hello Ferro, the charmer," said Le Tosco. 
 
 The man thus saluted scrutinized the intruder 
 a moment and in poor French jargon asked, " What 
 would you with me? 
 
 " I would buy a lance, " said he, using the term 
 by which the natives term this most deadly snake. 
 
 The man saluted as Ferro, the charmer, invited 
 him in. Ferro was a most unwholesome looking 
 individual, black, with long hair, flat nose and a 
 brow so sloping as to make it hard to determine 
 if it were really meant for a brow, and with fierce, 
 protruding teeth. His clothes were ragged and 
 reeking with filth. 
 
 Le Tosco once inside looked about him. The 
 excavation was perhaps twenty feet long and twelve 
 feet wide and divided in two apartments. In one 
 lived Ferro, the charmer. In the other lived Ferro s 
 pets, his snakes. 
 
 The snakes were shut off from Ferro s apartments 
 by means of an iron screen extending across the 
 front. They were his stock in trade, his bread 
 and butter. On his dexterity as a snake catcher de 
 pended his livelihood. The venom of the " lance " 
 was held in high esteem by the natives. As a charm 
 against evil and disease it was in their minds most 
 effectual. Not content with a vial in the pocket or
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 411 
 
 attached perhaps to a string about the neck, many 
 also wore the skin of the snake as a belt about their 
 waists. So this barbaric Ferro, with his pipe or 
 flute could charm them, and after killing could bar 
 ter the pelt and venom for a goodly sum. 
 
 Ferro moved back a small door of the cage, and 
 took down his pipe from the wall. Slowly he began 
 playing on it. The weird character ol the music 
 that filled this room in the earth, together with 
 the darkness, the only light coming through open 
 ings in the stone on either side of the door, where 
 the fresh air also entered, this darkness made still 
 deeper by the ash gloom outside, made Le Tosco 
 forgetful of his mission and almost fearful of the 
 surroundings. 
 
 Ferro, the charmer, continued to play on the 
 pipe. A reptile s head with red forked tongue, 
 darting in and out, came slowly from the cage. 
 Another followed and another and another. The 
 floor about him became black with a writhing mass 
 of creeping snakes. Le Tosco, as he looked, forgot 
 his fear, so intent was his gaze fixed on Ferro and 
 his snakes. The serpents became intently interested 
 in the music, if such the noise could be called. 
 Ferro blew out louder and bolder notes. The 
 snakes held aloft their heads. Ferro swayed 
 his body from side to side. The reptiles swayed 
 their bodies. They were now in his control. He
 
 4 i2 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 had made good his title of " Ferro, the charmer." 
 These deadly, loathsome snakes were now in the 
 magical power of their master who sold them dead 
 or alive for money. 
 
 Ferro s eyes sought Le Tosco s, the pipe keeping 
 up its loud tones all this while. Ferro motioned 
 with his head toward one huge snake that was 
 close on him, as if to ask, " Would that one do? " 
 Le Tosco nodded in reply. 
 
 The music suddenly ceased. Ferro dexterously 
 swung his hand and caught the charmed and 
 unsuspecting reptile just back of his head. He 
 roused from his torpor. He wriggled and wound 
 himself about his captor s black arm, his fangs dart 
 ing, his eyes ablaze. Ferro picked up a bag and 
 landed the writhing snake in it. With broom-like 
 boughs he brushed the others back into the cage. 
 
 Le Tosco asked the price, paid it and left. As 
 he moved along toward home, he congratulated 
 himself that the money Sara had given him for this 
 purpose was twice as much as Ferro had exacted. 
 
 This was the morning of the day Graham came 
 into the city, the day when at night he had dined 
 at the Plaza and had noted Sara s radiance, the 
 result of expected consummation of a revenge she 
 had prepared for the man who had scorned her, 
 who had compromised her name in the presence 
 of other men. This afternoon, in spite of terror-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 413 
 
 izing conditions abounding throughout the city, 
 these conspirators held whispered consultation in 
 the room the mademoiselle had rented that she 
 might spy upon Durand. Late in the evening Le 
 Tosco carried out the plans they laid down. 
 
 It was an opportune time, too, for the consum 
 mation of the plans. The hotel was deserted. In 
 spite of conditions out doors, he noticed the guests 
 nearly all depart in carriages, depart in the darkness, 
 with muffled sound. Those remaining had gone to 
 bed, or the few who had not were seated about the 
 corridors in groups of two and three, discussing the 
 eruption and accompanying earthquake. None 
 noticed him as he passed up the stairs and to the 
 suite of rooms occupied by Durand. 
 
 In his hand he carried the same bag he had 
 procured from Ferro in the morning. Its contents 
 was a bit more lively than then. Le Tosco had 
 secured the duplicate key to Durand s room and 
 easily let himself in. Here he opened the bag, and 
 holding the top up with his other hand extracted 
 a small bottle from a pocket, grasped the cork in 
 his teeth and extracting it, poured the contents in the 
 bag. The pungent, volatile odor of chloroform filled 
 the room. The serpent at once became more quiet. 
 The ceaseless squirming now was lulled, and finally 
 stopped. Laying down the bag, Le Tosco went 
 softly out to return a moment later with a stick some
 
 4H THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 three feet long, and a coil of wire in his hand. 
 Catching up the lower end of the bag, he dropped 
 the snake out on the floor. Then he straightened 
 his serpentship, and laid the stick down beside him. 
 The serpent was still under the chloroform, but for 
 fear he would not stay so long the man worked 
 quickly, uncoiling the wire, and winding it around 
 both snake and stick, winding it tightly so that the 
 wire nearly sank into the snake s skin. As he 
 finished, he looked upon his work. The snake s head 
 overlapped the end of the stick to which he was 
 bound, by a good foot. When he awoke it was 
 plain he could not crawl but could use his head to 
 advantage. Then he opened the bed, the bed upon 
 which he expected Durand would repose, and placed 
 the serpent well toward the foot of the bed, his 
 head toward the upper end. 
 
 As he replaced the clothes, the snake awakened, 
 striking this way and that, writhing and twisting, 
 but the tough wire held him. He quieted at last 
 and seemed content to await developments, to await 
 the time when he would perform the work a 
 jealous, bad, devil-worshipping woman had planned. 
 
 This was to be the revenge of Mile. Sara, the re 
 jected lover of Durand, unless God interposed.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 415 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 As Graham and Olive entered the house, to keep 
 back the dust and gases he closed the door quickly 
 behind. Aside from the uncertainty of getting 
 back with Olive to the convent, the sulphur in the 
 atmosphere had almost choked them, and he 
 thought Olive would be better inside. They needed 
 shelter to drive away the disquieting effects of the 
 conditions abroad that night, for none, we have 
 said, would venture out save for mischief or love. 
 
 He seated Olive on a settle that was near the 
 door. She was better at once. A mirror over her 
 head showed him as he looked up that he was pale, 
 while a certain trembling of his limbs told him he 
 was both agitated and weak. He wondered whose 
 house it was he had invaded. He saw no one, heard 
 no noise of moving about or talking. The hour 
 was not far from ten. Surely the owner or his 
 family had not yet retired. He looked about and saw 
 opposite the settle, a door. He would see the 
 family, he thought, and explain their intrusion.
 
 416 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Surely they would be forgiven for it on such a 
 night as this. Who could refuse shelter to them ? 
 
 He opened this door and stepped into a drawing- 
 room, furnished as any similar room might be 
 furnished. There were no occupants. Coming out 
 he advanced down the very long hall, to a door, 
 some distance from the one they entered. He tried 
 it and again invaded a room of the house whose 
 owner he sought. This room was similar to the first 
 one, only smaller, and looked to be a more private 
 retreat. Olive had followed him and now the two 
 walked on together and came to a door at the far 
 end of this hall or corridor. He noticed it was 
 a double door, ponderous and heavy. He would 
 enter. He thought they might be obliged to spend 
 the night here, at least if, after inquiry, they found 
 themselves far from the convent. He must seek 
 some one in this house of whom he could make in 
 quiry or ask for privileges. 
 
 Graham seized the knob and pulling the door 
 open, stepped in, Olive following close behind. The 
 door closed behind them with a dull noise. They 
 were in a room that, save for a light in the center, 
 which was intermittent, was gloomy. 
 
 A voice on their left spoke. " I must have been 
 nodding I guess." 
 
 Graham saw the figure of a man, who arose from
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 417 
 
 a chair nearby. He took one step toward them. 
 " The countersign, please." 
 
 Graham did not understand. The voice repeated, 
 " The countersign, please." 
 
 Just then the waning light came out bright again. 
 It lasted momentarily, yet long enough for Graham 
 to see a brilliant reflection upon a large motto over 
 the door, a motto some fifteen feet long and with 
 letters six inches high, standing out. They seemed 
 to be of burnished gold, so bright did they look. 
 As he looked distinctly he read, " All hope abandon 
 ye who enter here." 
 
 The blood in his veins seemed congealed. He 
 gasped as the suspicion of where they were came to 
 him, this place of Devil worship into which he had 
 led Olive. 
 
 The man at his left again asked, " Monsieur, 
 will you oblige me with the pass words ? " 
 
 His tones were not soft; they were severe. Olive 
 noticed this and wondered what they would do. As 
 for Graham, he was too bewildered at the words he 
 had read and the knowledge they carried with them 
 to hear what was said. Audibly he murmured, 
 " All hope abandon ye who enter here." 
 
 He repeated it unconsciously as one may those 
 things which please or disturb or impress him. 
 
 The guard at once replied. " It is well, but why 
 27
 
 418 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 not give it to me at first? I almost suspected 
 you were spies." 
 
 Olive took his arm and whispered, 
 
 " Come, let us move. You have guessed the 
 pass word." 
 
 Then it occurred to Graham just what had hap 
 pened. They had stumbled into the most secret 
 room of the Devil Worshippers. The guard was 
 supposed to take the pass word from members 
 before they entered. But while he slept they had 
 entered, and the words over the door which Graham 
 had seen, and unconsciously and through great 
 surprise articulated, were the pass words. Should 
 they leave? He did not want to expose Olive to 
 harm here. They could not go out in the street 
 again and wander about. Neither of them could go 
 much farther. Perhaps they could stay here awhile 
 and rest. He was a bit fond of adventure. Not 
 to the degree his friend Best was perhaps, but he 
 was loath to go without some exploration of this 
 place, a place which probably no one not identified 
 with the Satanists had ever entered. 
 
 After walking forward some ten paces, they 
 stopped. The ominous light had led them on so far. 
 Now the shutting of the door behind them, the one 
 by which they had entered, as it clicked, sent a 
 tremor through them. Did the guard suspect them 
 and had he locked them in? Graham had not
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 419 
 
 whispered to Olive the nature of the place, and she, 
 poor girl, only realized that something about this 
 place, with the intermittent light, was terrorizing. 
 
 She trembled as they heard the door close. Then 
 they stared a minute at the mysterious light, a light 
 that was of the same mechanical contrivance as 
 Durand had seen in the Temple of Satan at Paris. 
 Then they heard something click, and a great burst 
 of light overspread the place, as a myriad electric 
 bulbs shed out their brilliancy from the sides and 
 from the great dome overhead. 
 
 They were now facing the center of the room, a 
 room perhaps seventy-five feet square, with an 
 arched dome high over all. Their eyes were blinded 
 by the glare of light at first, yet at once they saw, 
 and such a sight. Rearing itself at least a dozen 
 feet high, there was a most glaring thing of metal, 
 a devil, huge, hideous, awful. Its horrid hooked 
 nose, with leering lips and protruding tongue, was 
 typical of all the devils those people worshipped. 
 An extended arm dropped living fire into the pan 
 placed for that purpose. Its shoulders were nearly 
 four feet across, the arm fully one and a half yards 
 long, and very large in proportion. It sat on a large 
 raised platform or dais, the dais forming a table 
 about it, and was for the presumable purpose of 
 receiving offerings. The body ended where it met
 
 420 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 this platform, so that the bust was really all there 
 was to the devil. 
 
 Graham took a step backward as he looked. As 
 for Olive, she did not shriek as might have been 
 expected. Instead she turned a whitened face to 
 ward her lover inquiringly. 
 
 " We are in the temple of the Devil Worshippers," 
 he said, as he grasped her arm to steady her. " But 
 have courage, we will leave at once." 
 
 They started for the door. He would try it and 
 see if they could not leave. His eyes peered about 
 the room as they advanced. It was richly furnished 
 with plush, damask and leather covered furniture. 
 Facing the idol, was another dais on which was a 
 chair of gold and silver. It might have graced the 
 throne of a king or emperor, had it been used for a 
 different purpose. Graham guessed that here the 
 great potentate of this sect sat and ruled those 
 of his faith. Just back of this great chair he saw 
 statuary on pedestals, and paintings hanging from 
 the walls. Above it all was an illustrated frieze of 
 tri-colored demons, deformed and seemingly furious. 
 It was plain that the designer of this frieze, aside 
 from understanding demons, had been a despoiler of 
 the tombs of ancient Egypt, and therefrom drew 
 many of these designs. They looked upon paintings 
 of demons, half man, half horse, and of great satyrs. 
 The statuary was both ancient and modern. That
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 421 
 
 of modern date was not inferior to the others. 
 There were Devils with smaller imps growing out 
 of their abdomens, their arms ending in writhing, 
 coiling snakes. The ancient ones showed again the 
 despoiler s hand, for none but the tomb of a 
 Rameses or a Pharaoh could furnish such deities of 
 black basalt rock as had been made to serve as devils. 
 Demons of wood and of stone everywhere sat 
 about. 
 
 Graham looked with interest upon these mementos 
 and tokens. Olive shuddered, yet did not collapse 
 as a delicate woman might be expected to in such 
 a place. 
 
 They reached the door. Graham felt instinctively 
 that the guard stood just outside. He felt that he 
 had flashed on the lights of the temple as visitors 
 were expected, or rites were to be celebrated. 
 
 Remembering the outside conditions, he shuddered 
 as he pictured Pelee above them manifesting the 
 power of the God who placed " its awful foundations 
 in the central fires," while inside blasphemous 
 ceremonies might ensue. He hoped to walk boldly 
 out, unobserved perhaps save by the unsuspecting 
 guard, and to find shelter elsewhere. 
 
 He put his hand to the door and opened it. He 
 would have motioned Olive out and followed her, 
 had it not been that he glanced down the hall. 
 There he saw at least a score of people who had
 
 422 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 just entered. He feared to run the gauntlet of so 
 many scrutinizing eyes. He knew not the penalty 
 the Satanists by-laws prescribed for spies, but he 
 felt that men and women, who could in praise and 
 adoration consider the demons and things devilish 
 they had just looked on, would, in keeping with 
 these things, mete out terrible punishment to eaves 
 droppers. He closed the door quickly and drew 
 back. 
 
 His eyes sought the farther side of the house. 
 There was a small door. He grasped Olive s arm. 
 Together they ran across the lodge room, or, as 
 they thought, the Chamber of Awful Things, and 
 to this door, which opened as Graham tried it. 
 They stepped inside. The room was merely a 
 private room of the dignitaries of the order, as the 
 paraphernalia upon the walls and about it proved. 
 It was useless for them as a hiding-place then. 
 Graham had hoped it had an outside connection. 
 This was not so. 
 
 They again stepped out into the main chamber. 
 No other door was to be seen, save the one by which 
 they first entered. In their extremity, as Graham s 
 eyes sought about for an exit or a place to secrete 
 themselves, his glance fell upon something before 
 unnoticed. So engrossed had they been in viewing 
 the walls and devils above that one thing that now 
 was to prove highly important to them had escaped
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 423 
 
 their notice. It was this ; the dais upon which rested 
 the chief or central devil was surrounded with a 
 black drapery that hung loosely all around the 
 circular platform and to the floor. Graham ran to it 
 and pulled it up and peered underneath There was 
 space and a hiding-place. 
 
 " Quick," he said in a hoarse whisper to Olive, 
 and he held aloft the black curtain or pall. 
 
 She was on her knees and under at once and he 
 followed close behind.
 
 424 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 VAGUELY had rumors come to Graham in the 
 past of this cult who worshipped Satan. Olive too 
 had heard the nuns tremblingly mention them, 
 while all the populace knew of them only with 
 superstitious fear. With this in mind, Graham now 
 was amazed at the condition fate had forced upon 
 Olive and himself. Under the chief idol or devil of 
 a devil-worshipping cult, whose followers he believed 
 would kill both him and Olive, should they be 
 detected, was the situation in which they found 
 themselves. 
 
 How long, they asked themselves, would they be 
 here? Before long it would be midnight, the 
 ghastly hour which these revilers of sacred things 
 had chosen for their rites, Graham whispered to 
 Olive, as they heard the doors of the entrance 
 open. A moment later, music from an organ floated 
 out to them. Then they heard the tramp of many 
 feet as if a host was moving in. Many voices in 
 unison broke out in chanting. 
 
 The procession halted in front of the huge idol. 
 Some stood so close that Graham could have
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 425 
 
 touched their shoes. A seam in the curtain or pall, 
 behind which they were sheltered, had parted a 
 bit. Through it Graham gazed and glancing up 
 ward looked into the face of La Monta. This second 
 of Durand s was then a Devil worshipper. He 
 noticed the dress of La Monta. On his head was 
 a scarlet turban, set with jewels; over his shoulders 
 hung a scarlet silk robe with gold facings. About 
 his neck hung a flaming stole, embroidered with 
 designs of devils and satyrs. 
 
 About La Monta were clustered a dozen people, 
 men all save one. They were dressed in robes of 
 the same style as their chief, except these were 
 of a different hue. They wore no stoles. 
 
 At the back stood a woman, her form concealed 
 beneath a long black robe that touched the floor at 
 her feet. The robe was a beautiful work of art, so 
 far as workmanship goes, embroidered with a 
 cluster of devils, all hideous, that were grouped 
 about a central figure. This central figure repre 
 sented the expulsion from Eden of our first 
 parents. The serpent, instead of having a serpent s 
 head, carried aloft a head that was the counterpart 
 of the head of the central idol, horns included. 
 Below it all were written words that the serpent was 
 supposed to say : " Henceforth I rule forever." 
 This woman Graham recognized as Mile. Sara. 
 
 Now they broke into a chant again. These were
 
 426 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the words they chanted to music of a weird char 
 acter : 
 
 " O Beelzebub, we bring to thee ; O Beelzebub, we bring to thee, 
 Our worshippings. Our worshippings. 
 
 That are our dues to thee. 
 
 Thou art our all in all. Thou art our all in all ; 
 To thee we humbly bow. To thee we humbly bow, 
 
 For thou to us art all. 
 The gods of earth are naught to us ; The gods of earth are naught 
 
 to us, 
 We acknowledge only thee. We acknowledge only thee. 
 
 No other power we know. 
 
 O, Beelzebub, we bring to thee ; O, Beelzebub we bring to thee, 
 A maiden wondrous fair. A maiden wondrous fair, 
 
 She thy bride will be." 
 
 As they chanted, the procession divided, one-half 
 standing on either side, leaving a pathway leading 
 up to the idol. 
 
 The dignitaries or officers were then escorted 
 to their places about the room. Then followed 
 some opening exercises, exercises in which La 
 Monta, as Beelzebub, read from the liturgy blasphe 
 mous invocations, the people responsively answer 
 ing. 
 
 Many formalities were observed, formalities that 
 were tedious to the prisoners under the dais of the 
 idol, who were obliged to lie quietly, shifting a 
 limb or the body with great care lest they should 
 make some slight noise and be detected. 
 
 Detonations were heard from Pelee coming at
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 427 
 
 short intervals all through this. These detonations 
 had commenced afresh at the commencement of the 
 liturgy, but as it was finished a terrible rumbling 
 came, one lasting a full half minute. The earth 
 seemed to vibrate from its very foundations, shak 
 ing the building and causing a rattling of vases set 
 about the room, and a jarring of glass. A heavy 
 glass panel from the dome directly over the idol fell, 
 striking the outstretched hand of Beelzebub, and 
 dropping in a thousand shimmering pieces over the 
 pall of the dais. 
 
 Feminine shrieks were heard about the room, 
 while a groan here and there told of masculine 
 fright. A silence fell upon the assembly. La 
 Monta arose. 
 
 " Fear not, my beloved adherents of the faith," 
 he said. " Fear not, I say, yonder Pelee approves of 
 our ceremony, sending forth its sulphurous-scented 
 breath and its mighty roarings that shake the island 
 we favor with our presence. Lucifer himself joins 
 with his favor and approval. Fear not then the 
 voices from the infernal regions." 
 
 In contrast to La Monta s interpretation of the 
 action of Pelee, Graham whispered in Olive s ear, 
 " The God above will rebuke these scenes." 
 
 La Monta s words had a quieting effect and he 
 was able to begin the ceremonies of the occasion. 
 He rapped with his gavel and called out :
 
 428 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 " Ye priests of the Powers of Darkness, as 
 semble." 
 
 Footfalls told those under the idol that his man 
 date was being obeyed. A dozen men in robes of 
 red and red caps assembled in front of the idol, 
 facing it. Priests recited the black creed. Slowly 
 and in a singsong tone they chanted a travesty of 
 the words of the Catholic Creed, naming the devils 
 as supreme by right of priority and the number of 
 constituents. It was awful. Graham could hardly 
 suppress a groan. He wanted then and there to 
 come forth and denounce them all as idolators and 
 liars, but fear for Olive and himself prevented. 
 
 Attendants brought forth silver vessels. They 
 were the same that, pillaged from the churches of 
 France, had done service at the banquet following 
 Durand s initiation in Paris. " We will proceed to 
 the Black Mass," announced the potentate. Surely 
 they would not imitate the White or Christian Mass 
 of the Catholic Church Graham asked himself, but 
 he was mistaken, for this was exactly what they 
 did. They all assembled and stood in front of 
 the idol, while the imps in priestly garb distributed 
 something from these pillaged vessels, whose pur 
 pose was being outraged. 
 
 Graham and Olive were both of deep religious 
 convictions. To lie quietly and hear the holy offices 
 of the Christian faith made a mockery gave them a
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 429 
 
 strong feeling of repugnance. Yet they were 
 powerless to do otherwise than listen. How long, 
 they asked themselves, would this continue, how 
 long before they might escape? 
 
 It was now past midnight, Graham saw as he 
 consulted his watch, by the light that came through 
 the aperture in the hall. Surely ere long this sin 
 ful celebration must run its course and cease. 
 
 Again they heard the voice of La Monta. What 
 he said gave them an inkling of the real purpose 
 of the meeting. 
 
 " Fellow adherents of the faith," he said, " from 
 all the world we have come. Of every clime and 
 country we are representative. Nor is our mission 
 here one of sight-seeing and pleasure, although this 
 wonderful island wherein we have erected our chief 
 monument to the Powers of Darkness is one of 
 beauty and its grandeur worthy of praise. Our 
 mission here carries with it a duty to the Evil One. 
 Remiss indeed would we be if we performed not 
 that duty. 
 
 " The order of Satanists is not of recent date. 
 Far from it. The God whom the world worships has 
 furnished His followers with accounts of Himself, 
 dating back to that time in history when on the 
 plains of Babylon civilized man built cities and 
 wrote his name on history s page. Demonology 
 antedates this by centuries. Established throughout
 
 430 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 the world are temples wherein we worship, yet there 
 is only one central temple which, erected by the ad 
 herents of our creed, furnishes us with a retreat 
 to which we may repair once in a decade, coming 
 from all parts of the world, there to enjoy and 
 participate in those rites that Beelzebub exacts, rites 
 that carry with them sacrifices and ceremonies pleas 
 ing to him. 
 
 " The first participants taught and indeed prac 
 ticed a great sacrifice. They believed, and this be 
 lief has not been entirely eliminated, that to please 
 his Majesty, the Devil, the sacrificing of human life 
 was essential. An important English colonizer and 
 explorer, when in the captivity of the North 
 American Indians, indited a letter to his friends in 
 which he gives a minute description of the sacrifice 
 of an Indian child to the devil spirit. This is but 
 an additional proof of my assertion that human 
 life was offered to Beelzebub until the modern laws 
 of nations interfered and prevented it. 
 
 " This does not prevent us from substituting a 
 most beautiful ceremony in its place. If then we 
 can no longer please Beelzebub with the sacrifice 
 of human life, we will substitute something that 
 we hope, aside from being beautiful, may be ac 
 ceptable. Thus was instituted the marriage that 
 now will follow, and which we are here assembled 
 to witness.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 431 
 
 " Every decade, upon the recommendation of the 
 potentate, a beautiful maiden is chosen for the 
 Devil s bride, and we assemble here to witness the 
 ceremony, a ceremony that may seem empty to the 
 neophite or uninitiated, but to the true follower of 
 the faith is commemorable and dutiful. An inter 
 mission will now be given, after which the marriage 
 will be celebrated." 
 
 After the intermission the priests were again 
 assembled and given orders. They were to pre 
 pare all things and then notify the bride that all 
 was ready and escort her before the idol. The 
 preparation of arrangements consisted in bringing 
 several paper screens and putting them down in a 
 place hard by. This was done ceremoniously and 
 in order. Then they repaired to without the main 
 room. For a few minutes all was silent. 
 
 Suddenly the peals of a wedding march broke 
 forth and announced the bridal procession. In 
 they came. First, two priests escorting Mile. Sara, 
 rechristened Lillith, the Devil s Bride. After them 
 followed a dozen priests coming two by two. They 
 marched around the room twice to the notes of 
 the wedding march and finally stopped in front of 
 the representation of Beelzebub. They had now 
 come for the marriage. When first they entered 
 before, escorting Lillith, it was only that she might
 
 432 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 be inspected. Evidently the inspection pleased, for 
 now the marriage was to take place. 
 
 Our friends in concealment again shifted their 
 positions and looked upon Sara. Before her robe 
 had been black. Now it was of pure white, the 
 garb of innocence and purity. It was trimmed with 
 white lace and gold embroidery, and was a thing of 
 marvelously wrought beauty. 
 
 Sara looked indeed a bride. In spite of her years 
 she had preserved a freshness of skin that belied her 
 years. Her blonde hair as a background to the 
 spirited bright eyes, and slightly aquiline nose gave 
 her face a setting of wondrous beauty. 
 
 The priests again broke out in a chant in which 
 they extolled the virtue and beauty of the bride, 
 and hoped she might be acceptable. 
 
 Then the mockery of a marriage took place, a 
 mockery that carried with it ridicule. La Monta 
 acted as interlocutor while a priest acted as sponsor 
 for the inert idol of Beelzebub, Mile. Sara, for her 
 part answering audibly and with promptness. 
 
 This ceremony was long and most tedious to the 
 prisoners. After it was over La Monta announced 
 that Beelzebub would now view the bride. He ex 
 plained that this procedure prescribed that the 
 bride bare her person before the idol. The opaque 
 screens were set up in a square about Sara or Lillith,
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 433 
 
 so that they completely hid her from the eyes of 
 those present. 
 
 Then came the command, " Disrobe." 
 
 After La Monta s command there was silence; for 
 some minutes nothing could be heard save the dis 
 tant rumblings from Pelee. Finally the command 
 was given for the bride to don her robe. Then the 
 screens were removed and Mile. Sara stood smiling 
 as she listened to the hand clapping and plaudits of 
 the audience. 
 
 La Monta himself led the procession that came 
 and congratulated her, some one hundred in all, as 
 near as Graham could judge. 
 
 When the line had passed, the priests resumed 
 their line of march and escorted Sara out of the 
 room. 
 
 La Monta congratulated all on the happy and suc 
 cessful ending of the rites. " We regret," he said, 
 " that we have no banquet hall here in which to 
 celebrate the wedding feast, but nevertheless we 
 have decided to hold the feast here in the very room 
 wherein took place the marriage," and with great 
 unction he ceremoniously closed the conclave. 
 28
 
 434 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 As Mile. Sara stood before the idol, her face 
 took on a radiance that was not entirely natural. 
 Not that she thoroughly enjoyed her position in this 
 mocking ceremony. She had little heart in the 
 matter. It was not love for the cause that accounted 
 for her participation. In Paris she had told Du- 
 rand that it paid well, and bought the rich dresses 
 and jewels, so dear to her heart. But the conscious 
 ness of the presence of the jewels on her person, of 
 the rich robe she wore or the distinction of being 
 honored in the ceremony furnished not the inspi 
 ration for the smile. In this instance her smile 
 was one of exultation. She believed by this time 
 Durand had met his fate, that he was dead as the 
 result of the snake s bite. 
 
 We have shown in the foregoing chapters that in 
 her expressions of love for Olive she possessed wo 
 manly instincts. True she did, yet within her was 
 contained a vindictive impulse that would not hesi 
 tate to mete even worse destruction upon her enemy 
 than she had planned for the man who had cast her 
 off, who had referred to her shame in the presence
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 435 
 
 of other men. So she smiled. By this time Durand 
 must be dead. Why not smile? She had shown 
 him how love could be turned into intense hate. 
 But Sara had reckoned only on her own power and 
 cunning in planning Durand s death. She had not 
 reckoned with the true God whom she reviled, the 
 God who said, " Vengeance is mine. I will repay." 
 Aye and who would repay swiftly and who would, 
 beside interfering with her plans for Durand s 
 death, execute other plans that did include him, her 
 self, and the unrighteous mob that were assembled 
 in Satan s temple that night. 
 
 Durand was in prison in the town s Bastile down 
 by the roadstead. Neither Mr. Penticost nor Gra 
 ham had been informed of the fact, yet the processes 
 of French law had begun to work and he was appre 
 hended. That very afternoon he had been sum 
 moned to the door of his room by a French police 
 officer. The officer wished him to come along with 
 him. He did not fully understand but without noise 
 or demonstration went along. None about the hotel 
 knew or suspected the meaning of the officer s pres 
 ence, save the manager who had directed him to 
 Durand s door, and he refrained from mentioning 
 the fact to the others. 
 
 Mile. Sara missed him at the dinner that night. 
 She missed him at the temple s ceremonies. It was 
 a fact that since he had seen Olive and forsaken
 
 436 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Sara, he had paid little attention to the Satanists. 
 Yet she expected he would surely witness the clos 
 ing ceremonies of the Black Mass and the mar 
 riage. Her eyes sought the throng about the room. 
 He was not there; it was past midnight. Hence 
 he must have retired and met his death before this. 
 
 The officers at the Bastile, as well as the one who 
 arrested him, gave Durand no information as to 
 why he had been taken in custody. 
 
 Graham might be dead, he thought, or if alive 
 he might have charged him with attempt to murder. 
 He had accompanied the officer from the hotel and 
 through the street a little way without exciting much 
 attention, yet a prisoner will always draw the at 
 tention of the morbidly curious, and in spite of the 
 fact that Pelee s feats had driven the people from 
 the streets, at sight of Durand in the custody of an 
 officer they flocked out and followed in the trail 
 of the custodian of the law and his prisoner. That 
 he should be hauled through the streets with a jeer 
 ing mob at his heels was not pleasing to Durand. 
 He was furious in fact. He fairly boiled inwardly. 
 He vowed that if Graham was not dead he should 
 die on sight when they met. Such indignities to 
 himself would not go unpunished. 
 
 He was incarcerated in a cell of the broad, one- 
 storied bastile. The cell was not over small, and 
 would afford him room to move about, he had
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 437 
 
 noticed as he entered. To be incarcerated long 
 would be bad indeed, but the cell was fairly pleas 
 ant, with its two medium sized windows that over 
 looked a court, yet he did not intend it as an abiding 
 place for a great while. 
 
 It was nearly nightfall when he heard the click 
 of the lock that closed him inside. So he had not 
 long to wait for the dinner, a meal that he admitted 
 to himself was not so bad for such a place. This 
 was his comment, as he sorted it over a bit and ate 
 what pleased his fancy. He was not cast down in 
 spirit. On the contrary he was angry. His in 
 domitable courage and mastery of intrigue had res 
 cued him from predicaments before. It would 
 again; why worry. Yet to be hauled through 
 the streets with the bawling rabble at one s heels 
 would ruffle most tempers. When he should be 
 tried or released, yes or even escape he would find 
 the instigator of this outrage and punish him accord 
 ingly. Why not eat then and be comfortable? He 
 was sure he would escape the consequences por 
 tended by this arrest. 
 
 He asked for papers. They were given him. He 
 perused them carefully. He became interested in 
 the reports of Pelee, both as a news item and editor 
 ial. The latter prayed that good judgment rather 
 than excitement prevail, and that the exodus might 
 cease. The editorial finished thus : " These same
 
 438 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 people who now fly from the city will return in a 
 few days and be the brunt of jokes aimed at their 
 timidity." 
 
 " This is my idea," said Durand aloud. " Pelee 
 will do little harm further than cover the city with 
 ashes." 
 
 He asked for a light. A lamp was furnished 
 him. As it grew dark he lighted it and finished the 
 paper, after which he smoked calmly until bedtime. 
 He loosed his clothes, and in spite of the havoc the 
 earthquake had wrought and the falling ash outside, 
 retired. Plans for escape formulated themselves in 
 his mind, and when these were perfected, he dropped 
 to sleep. 
 
 At six thirty next morning he heard the turning 
 of a key in the lock. It awoke him in fact. He 
 started up on his elbow and saw the attendant with 
 his breakfast. 
 
 " Say," he asked, " rather early hours you keep 
 do you not? " 
 
 His bantering remarks made the attendant relax 
 his usual vigilance and made him more congenial 
 than was his wont with prisoners. 
 
 " Yes, but you will get used to it if you are with 
 us long. Our habits are very easy to drop into, 
 especially when one has nothing else to do." 
 
 " I see," said Durand, " one here has so little 
 to do they merely wait for the prison routine to
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 439 
 
 drive dull care away. Sit down. I will arise, and 
 by the way, will give you a small tip for remem 
 bering me with a breakfast." 
 
 Remembering him with a breakfast indeed, 
 thought the attendant. Here was a gentleman who 
 did not know that it was the prison custom that 
 the attendants feed the prisoners. He could not 
 stay now. He had duties elsewhere, but with a tip 
 in view he could find time to come back soon, so he 
 answered, " I cannot stay now, but while the gen 
 tleman arises I will go about other duties and later 
 return." 
 
 " All right," answered Durand, " but one thing 
 first," as he glanced about the room, not noting what 
 he sought, " I would like a basin, some water and a 
 towel." 
 
 The man looked surprised. " All right, tho you 
 are the first prisoner here in more than a year who 
 has asked for these articles," and he withdrew. 
 
 Later he returned with the articles Durand had 
 requested. 
 
 " Come back soon," Durand called out, as he 
 again withdrew. 
 
 Durand ere he slept that night had planned cer 
 tain things. He might have executed them now, but 
 deferred it until he had breakfasted. He wished, 
 when he executed these plans, to have command of 
 all the judgment he could summon, and as judgment
 
 440 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 is the child and the product of philosophy, and man 
 is only a philosopher when his stomach is full, he 
 would eat first, and when the guard returned exe 
 cute these plans. 
 
 He performed his ablutions leisurely and sat 
 down to eat. He ate leisurely and again sorted over 
 his food with great care, relishing the parts that 
 pleased him, also the excellent cup of coffee pro 
 vided. He commented " This is a Martinique 
 prison is it ? Well so far the fare is passable and the 
 discipline not rigid. If the guards are as lax in 
 vigilance as the place is in discipline I shall easily 
 escape." 
 
 As he finished eating, the attendant returned. 
 He came inside, closed the door after him, and 
 locked it with a key, assorted from several attached 
 to a ring he took from his pocket. Then he de 
 posited this bunch of keys again in this same pocket, 
 Durand watching him meanwhile closely. The 
 guard, unmindful of the intentions of the other, 
 failed to notice he was closely observed. 
 
 Durand arose, shook himself leisurely, reached 
 in his pocket for the tip he had promised. He 
 sorted out a five franc piece and took a step nearer 
 the guard. He extended the hand in which he held 
 the coin. " Here my good man," he said, " I 
 would pay you for your trouble and attention."
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 441 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said the attendant almost glee 
 fully, as he reached for the coin. 
 
 Purposely Durand let it slip and fall to the floor. 
 The other stooped and picked it up. As he arose, 
 Durand, on the alert for this particular opportunity, 
 dealt him a powerful blow on the end of the jaw. 
 
 The guard, not dreaming that he was to be at 
 tacked, could not ward off this blow. He was 
 taken unawares. He reeled, as a groan escaped his 
 lips, and fell prostrate to the stone floor where he 
 lay quiet, save for a twitching of the muscles of 
 his arms and legs. 
 
 The master of the situation then worked lively. 
 He rolled the unfortunate guard on his face and 
 took the towel and securely bound his hands behind 
 his back. Then from his own pocket he took a 
 handkerchief, folded it cornerwise and tied a knot 
 in the center. He placed the knot in the man s 
 mouth to prevent an outcry, and securely tied the 
 ends of the handkerchief at the nape of his neck. 
 The man s pockets next demanded his attention. 
 He extracted the keys and after trying several, 
 came upon the one he sought. It unlocked the cell 
 door and out he walked into the corridor. Follow 
 ing it along, he found the door through which he had 
 entered the day before, the one leading to the street. 
 Again he sought the keys and again found the 
 proper one. A moment later, he was in the street,
 
 442 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 treading his way through several inches of ash and 
 cinders toward the Plaza. 
 
 He had formulated plans for the future. He 
 needed a harbor for the next few days, while these 
 plans were being carried out. He liked not the idea 
 of further wrestling with the law. His escape would 
 be noted, and he would be sought. He had not 
 given up Olive yet. He would yet possess her. 
 For the present he wanted a place of safety away 
 from the city s police. No better place than the 
 Temple of Satan was available. He would go 
 there. The attendants there would bring his food, 
 and he might sleep on the divans. The solitude 
 would be good for thought, and from there he could 
 dictate the fulfillment of his schemes. No Martin 
 ique official would look for him there. The out 
 lines of these future plans, for a foreground, were 
 made up of Olive and an escape with her from the 
 Island, leaving his enemies, Mile. Sara and Gra 
 ham, behind. 
 
 It was now time for daylight. Indeed the dark 
 ness of night had given away to a gloom scarcely 
 less dense. The light could not penetrate the ash 
 laden air to any extent, and so the day was but little 
 lighter than the night, sufficient, however, for him 
 to trace his way about. 
 
 At the Plaza, he repaired to his room, packed 
 a valise, came down, told the clerk he would be away
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 443 
 
 for a few days only, walked out into the gloom, 
 through avenues of ash laden trees that looked like 
 gray ghosts of their former selves, and finally, to 
 the Temple of Satan. 
 
 He walked into the hallway, and hearing a com 
 motion in the inner room of the Temple, passed on 
 to this room. He gave the secret word that entitled 
 him to admittance and stepped inside. He was sur 
 prised at what he saw. 
 
 He knew that the night previous had been set 
 apart for the most important ceremonies, cere 
 monies that he had hoped to witness, but by the in 
 terposition of the law had missed. But he did not 
 think he would be there in time to partake of or 
 witness anything that might occur. He looked 
 about a moment, and then murmured, " All are here 
 yet and mostly drunken too." 
 
 This was what he saw. Large tables, with left 
 over viands, save those that lay scattered about the 
 room, where evidently they had fallen when some 
 bibulous person had used them as a missile, a cloth 
 blotched with wine and a general scene of pande 
 monium. About the room was, we might say, 
 strewn an hundred people, hardly a sober one in the 
 lot, sitting on chairs, with bent heads and mumbling 
 lips, uttering incoherent French, that might, had it 
 been intelligible have meant that some former 
 speaker of two hours earlier perhaps " was a jolly
 
 444 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 good fellow," he, this speaker, being the last one 
 they could remember. Others lay about on the 
 floor, yelling or singing as the absinthe had left the 
 mood, women as well as men in this condition. 
 
 Those who yet comprehended took notice of Du- 
 rand s entrance. A drunken cry of welcome escaped 
 their lips. 
 
 " Durand, Durand," they shouted. 
 
 With those yet seated at the table was Mile. Sara. 
 She did not see Durand enter, but at the cry of his 
 name looked toward the entrance door. Her eyes 
 burned like fire, her face was flushed with wine, 
 yet as she saw him she thought him a ghost in the 
 gray of this awful morning, come back to tantalize 
 her. The hand with which she lifted the goblet of 
 wine faltered and shook. She looked again. It 
 was he and in the flesh. Was he immune against 
 the poisonous serpent, or had Le Tosco weakened? 
 Le Tosco could be relied upon. Why, then, was not 
 her enemy dead ?
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 445 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE unwilling captives, Graham and Olive, had 
 spent the night under the idol. Their cramped posi 
 tion caused aching limbs and suffering, from which 
 little relief was given, as they could not with safety 
 move themselves. They were both very weary 
 when they sought this place as a refuge. Yet they 
 had had no rest, no relaxation since they entered 
 here. Mental worry is more fatiguing than any 
 amount of physical hardship, and the two com 
 bined was what they experienced on this dark morn 
 ing, as Durand entered the temple. About ten hours 
 had passed since first they placed themselves under 
 the pall covering of the dais, hours awful and full 
 of fear. 
 
 These ten hours of fear and suffering had left 
 Graham more completely unnerved than was Olive. 
 He was recovering from a wound administered by 
 the man who had just received such vociferous 
 greetings, and the day before was the first on which 
 he had ventured into the city. He had borne up 
 bravely through the ordeal of the night, but the ter 
 rorizing things which they had witnessed had al-
 
 446 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 most unnerved him and he had become very un 
 easy. He mastered this for a time, but again when 
 a fit of restlessness came over him he rolled about 
 considerably and Olive put forth a restraining hand 
 once or twice and kept him from making their pres 
 ence known. As it was, he made so much noise 
 that had the outsiders been sober, they would surely 
 have detected them. 
 
 The banquet had been more drunken, and riotous, 
 more lascivious than the one given in Durand s 
 honor in Paris. Hilarity flowed rampant with the 
 wine. Lusty voices shouted loudly. Praises to 
 Beelzebub were sung, the chants of the evening cere 
 monies were repeated. These gave way often to 
 rollicking songs of obscenity that should have 
 put to the blush every one present, but it did 
 not. The only blushes recorded came to those hid 
 den under the idol. They heard God s name pro 
 faned and reviled. They heard Satan extolled in 
 praise. They heard the Black Creed repeated in a 
 unison that ended in a screech. 
 
 It was little wonder that after his wound and ill 
 ness Graham should feel this trial so keenly as to 
 unbalance him. It is more wonder that it did not de 
 throne the reason of both Olive and himself. Men 
 and women have passed through lesser trials and 
 emerged insane. But the convent life, with its 
 simplicity and regular living had built up for Olive
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 447 
 
 a good constitution, and Graham s splendid physique 
 alone had carried his temporarily weak body 
 through this ordeal. His reserve force had assisted 
 him unto this time, yet now he was weakening. 
 
 During his movements, once he came abruptly 
 against something hard and cold. He put out his 
 hand and felt. It was the base of the idol. Then 
 he saw a gleam of light coming down from above. 
 This base then had an opening higher up. Yes, he 
 found it. This opening was in the front of the idol 
 and fully one-third of the idol s front was given to 
 it. Plenty of room for a man to enter inside this 
 devil of iron, if one were so disposed. Arched out 
 of the idol this opening had been left in its base for 
 the purpose of entering it and adjusting the ma 
 chinery that fed the chemicals to the perpetual 
 light in the idol s right hand. 
 
 Graham s condition was very much unsettled. 
 He would have accepted anything new or strange 
 as a matter of fact, without questioning it, in this 
 place had he been completely himself. Now, with 
 extreme fatigue upon him, and with scarcely a 
 thought as to where the light came from, he crawled 
 inside the idol and looked upward. The source of 
 the light seemed to be far above him. Dazed, he 
 mechanically felt about. His hand came in contact 
 with the rungs of an iron ladder that extended in 
 side the idol. He ascended slowly.
 
 448 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Olive knew that he had gone toward the base 
 of the idol and she followed. As he started to as 
 cend, she was just entering beneath him. She 
 feared he might place himself in harm s way or 
 do something rash. Repeatedly he had sighed so 
 loudly that she had been obliged to caution him lest 
 he betray their presence. So she felt that he needed 
 her and she kept close to him. 
 
 Graham ascended inside the idol for several feet. 
 Finally he discovered the source of the light. It 
 was merely outside light shining through the open 
 ing in the face of the idol, through the great nostrils, 
 and the awful, sensuous mouth. As he came to a 
 level with the light, he applied his eyes to the aper 
 ture and looked out. Distinctly he saw the room 
 as we have just described it, save that his view was 
 less extensive, and in its panoramic sweep took in 
 the table and what might be in this locality. He saw 
 now what he had not seen before. 
 
 The human passions, when aroused intensely to 
 things perverse, seek avenues of exemplification. 
 Some inventive mind, then, was responsible for the 
 perverse thing he saw. It was this, being passed 
 about the tables were several human skulls, filled 
 with wine, from which the infamous ones, men and 
 women, drank, and laughed and joked as they did 
 so. 
 
 Just then he heard the name of Durand shouted.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 449 
 
 He came to himself and muttered, " What ! Du- 
 rand a Devil Worshipper? It is a sort of an an 
 cestral worship like the Chinese with him I sup 
 pose." He saw Mile. Sara next and noted the look 
 of hatred that overswept her face at the sight of 
 Durand. The revel that had abated on Durand s 
 entrance again started and was in full swing. Du 
 rand was plied with wine and absinthe, many in 
 sisting in their debauched condition on the honor 
 of drinking with him. His coming imparted im 
 petus to the scene, more songs were sung, more re- 
 vilement of things sacred took place. 
 
 Outside it had been very dark and gloomy all the 
 early morning, so much so that the great dome of 
 glass over the idol of Beelzebub gave no light to 
 speak of, or not light enough so that the electric 
 lights might be turned off. Of a sudden, however, 
 the darkness was dispelled. Light came to the city 
 outside the temple and came down inside, through 
 its dome. The ashes too ceased falling. Through 
 the aperture made by the falling panel earlier in the 
 evening, a few ashes had continually fallen until 
 now. They had fallen over the pall and idol until 
 the former seemed white instead of black. Now 
 they ceased. The intermittent thundering of Pelee 
 was stilled. A gray haze hung over the island. 
 The air was most oppressive, and seemed super- 
 29
 
 450 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 charged with great heat and humidity. Not a 
 breath of air was astir outside. 
 
 Inside the temple were being enacted the closing 
 scenes of a feast offensive in the sight of God, 
 whose perpetrators he would no longer spare. 
 Mockery and revilement had exceeded the limit of 
 Divine grace. Sacrilege and lust had passed the 
 stages of toleration. Disgusting and repulsive 
 things did the sick and dazed Graham look upon. 
 His mental equilibrium was no longer perfectly 
 maintained. Incoherently he muttered to himself. 
 Olive trembled, fearing they would be discovered. 
 Only the wine thus far had saved them. What 
 should she do if he were to suddenly and completely 
 lose his reason and perhaps shout? She was near 
 him. In this she felt a degree of safety. She would 
 do all she could to quiet him. She did not see what 
 he saw. It was well she did not. 
 
 Graham s nerves could no longer withstand these 
 scenes. He must rebuke the perpetrators. This 
 conclusion came to his overwrought mind. Clarion- 
 like his voice floated out to the revelers : 
 
 " The heavens declare the glory of God, and the 
 firmament showeth forth his handiwork." 
 
 Like a great sobering potion it acted. As if by 
 magic, the clamoring, the scenes of disgust ceased. 
 A hush like unto that of nature outside came over 
 the people. Then a drunken voice answered :
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 451 
 
 " It s a lie. It s a lie." 
 
 The voice, coming from whence they knew not, 
 proclaimed : 
 
 " Thou shalt have no other Gods before me." 
 
 " You lie ! You lie ! " again that debauched voice 
 made answer. 
 
 Olive had heard Graham s first words. Her fears 
 were realized. He had gone mad. She must quiet 
 him before their hiding place was discovered. So 
 she climbed up to where he was. 
 
 " Harold, Harold," she whispered in his ear. " If 
 you love me, in the name of heaven be quiet." 
 
 He paid no attention to her, as though he did not 
 hear. Instead he shouted out the second procla 
 mation as told. 
 
 The more sober men of the mob came together 
 for consultation, as if by summons. They were 
 dumbfounded. From frenzied scenes of debauch 
 ery and awf ulness, they had been subdued by a 
 voice that but proclaimed the name of the true God. 
 In the beginning, another Voice had said, " Let there 
 be light," and out of chaos came light. Now the 
 name of God, spoken by a temporarily demented 
 man, had changed revelry and moral chaos into 
 consternation and fear. The counsellors briefly 
 consulted. Many showed great fear, nor did they 
 have any solution as to whence came the voice that 
 had mocked them.
 
 452 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 They heard it again. 
 
 " Thou art weighed in the balance and found 
 wanting." 
 
 The drunken voice made no reply to this. Then 
 it came again : 
 
 " All hope abandon ye who enter here." 
 
 This was followed by a hoarse laugh corning 
 also from the place of mystery. 
 
 Durand started up. " Here, here," he said, as 
 he waved his hand for silence. " I know that voice 
 and its source. It is my enemy s voice, aye, our 
 enemy s voice, and comes from the interior of 
 Beelzebub." 
 
 He jumped toward the idol, as if in his frenzy he 
 would tear Beelzebub in pieces that he might get at 
 his enemy, whose voice had betrayed him. 
 
 An hundred people arose and with Durand 
 rushed at the idol, but they never reached it. 
 
 At the very moment they started, a vast noise, 
 like the breaking asunder of the world, like the 
 explosion of a star, a noise that was heard a half 
 thousand miles at sea, deafened them and cut short 
 their onward rush. The building shook as if some 
 mighty giant had picked it bodily from its found 
 ations and shaken it in his Titanic arms. This 
 lasted perhaps ten seconds, yet it stopped the mad 
 rush of the Devil Worshippers. Great excitement
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 453 
 
 prevailed. Cries and groans intermingled. Du- 
 rand sounded again the slogan of attack. 
 
 " Mind not the earthquake. Take and kill this 
 spy who secretes himself in the idol." 
 
 They rushed again to the idol, clamoring 
 hoarsely as they came on. 
 
 " Vengeance is mine. I will repay saith the 
 Lord," above the din was thundered at them. 
 
 Quicker than the closing of an eyelash, as sudden 
 as is predicted the rolling together of the earth as a 
 scroll at the final ending of time, came upon them 
 the wrath of God, came to St. Pierre the devasta 
 ting fire from Pelee. 
 
 Far out at sea, some two leagues, was a ship at an 
 chor. Her crew was busy grappling for a broken 
 cable. They heard the awful report and glanced 
 toward Pelee in time to see its side open, and from 
 this opening pour forth a huge cloud that was a mile 
 high in an instant. Its aspect was of inky black 
 ness, save its front which was of fire, a rolling, 
 cloudy, tornadic mass of destruction, through which 
 the lightnings darted. It bore with it death deal 
 ing gases and more ash that would enshroud many 
 a poor being the fire would slay. It represented, 
 mayhap, the wrath of God itself. As the rain 
 from heaven descends alike on the just and unjust, 
 so would this cloud of divine wrath destroy alike 
 both saint and sinner.
 
 454 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 In three minutes this cloud covered the four 
 miles from Pelee to the city. It went no further. 
 Its mission was completed. St. Pierre was licked 
 up in one mighy swoop of this death dealing cloud. 
 The tornadic effect razed every building, the gases 
 killed the people, and the fire burned the over 
 turned buildings of stucco and wood, as well as the 
 unfortunate beings whom the ashes had not en 
 tombed. 
 
 Thus are chronicled the last days of St. Pierre 
 and her thirty thousand souls.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 455 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 CONFLAGRATION raged unchecked over the city 
 of broken homes, destroyed property, and its dead 
 inhabitants. The smoke arose heavenward in one 
 gigantic cloud. From the hill above the city the 
 view would remind one of the burning of Rome 
 by Nero, or of the destruction of Jerusalem. Here 
 indeed was inspiration for a Dante. An area of 
 nearly eight square miles was affected and all things 
 combustible ignited. But all things bad and appall 
 ing must have an ending. So the fire burned out. 
 At five P. M. of this day it had almost eaten itself 
 to an ending. The watchers from the sea and the 
 hilltops felt that now the survivors, if any, might 
 escape. Were there any survivors? 
 
 The wall of the Temple of Satan exposed to 
 ward Pelee was leveled to the ground. The oppo 
 site wall was nearly so. However, the end wall was 
 left two-thirds standing; the dome over the idol was 
 thrown to the building next beyond. The gases 
 killed the Devil Worshippers and the ashes drifted
 
 456 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 wholly over one-half the dead. The others lay 
 exposed or partially so. 
 
 At about this hour of the day, some nine hours 
 after the cataclystic visitation, a man, who lay un 
 derneath the idol, took a long breath. At this in 
 spiration, his body responded in a palsied shiver 
 that passed o er him from head to foot. In a half 
 minute another breath followed. Again that shak 
 ing of the muscles. He raised one hand a bit. It 
 dropped at his side. Prostrate and on his back, 
 his breath now came irregularly. Yet the hand-rais 
 ing was indicative of fast returning conscious 
 ness. For nine hours, he had lain as if dead. Now 
 the hand was raised again. A groan escaped his 
 lips as it fell back. The hand was horribly burned 
 and blistered. This was why he groaned, yet per 
 haps unconscious of the injury. Now he breathed 
 more freely. The other hand went up. It did not 
 fall back. It came over to the forehead and ran 
 down across his face Again it sought his forehead 
 and the crown of the head. Instantly he sat up. 
 
 His head was bare of hair, singed by the fire. It 
 was the first comprehension on his awakening. In 
 fact it awoke him. Then he opened his eyes. He 
 looked at that hand. It was intact. He raised the 
 other and winced with the pain. He noticed the 
 sleeve was entirely gone, and the hand and arm 
 horribly burned. The ragged, charred end of the
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 457 
 
 sleeve claimed his attention. He felt it. The cloth 
 crumbled in his hand. He did not understand. 
 What had happened? Where was he? 
 
 Shining in and around him was a dull, red light. 
 He was unused to it. He gazed upward. His eye 
 met the bottom of an iron platform. The pall that 
 had covered it was gone, but he had forgotten about 
 the pall. Yet had the pall remained it would have 
 added discomfort for he would have been in dark 
 ness. He put out his uninjured hand to the iron 
 walls before him. It was the base of the idol but 
 he did not remember it. He attempted to arise. 
 His head struck the iron dais above him and he sat 
 down abruptly. Again he thought, " Where am I ? " 
 
 The light he had noticed was still there. He 
 would go toward it. He turned his body and started 
 on his hands and knees, his hands penetrating in 
 ashes a good foot in depth. He forged ahead a half 
 yard perhaps. His hand did not sink as deep in the 
 ashes as before. Instead it struck something that 
 felt different from the floor. He cleared away the 
 layers of ash. They were light and very loose and 
 he had little trouble in this. At last he leaned for 
 ward and blew with his breath the residue away. A 
 woman s face came to view. He looked. His eyes 
 grew large. Then he knew where he was, and what 
 had happened. He cried " Olive, Olive it is you." 
 
 Now he remembered the oncoming of the con-
 
 458 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 flagration and the explosion. Now all was plain. 
 Yet was she alive? Had the ashes stifled the resi 
 due of life after the first great shock? His ear 
 sought her heart. Yes, it was beating. The light 
 ness of the ashes had allowed enough air to pene 
 trate, to keep her alive. Perhaps too it had kept the 
 gases from killing her. The protecting dais and 
 idol had kept the penetrating wall of fire from them 
 both, and they lived. 
 
 Heedless of the great burn on his arm, the cause 
 of which he never knew, using one hand in the 
 hand and knee process, with the other he dragged 
 her from under the idol. Then he saw the condition 
 of Satan s temple, as he stumbled over brick and 
 fallen debris. A foot, yes in some places two and 
 three feet of ashes covered the floor. Some of the 
 combustible things about the building had burned, 
 but here as in other places where the ash was thickest 
 it had served as a blanket and prevented the destroy 
 ing element from making headway. What of 
 Olive? He shook her. He shouted at her without 
 avail. Fears that she would yet die came over him, 
 a numbing feeling such as he had experienced when 
 awakening seized him. He roused himself and 
 threw it off. He remembered the banquet the night 
 before and the wine. Yes over there was where the 
 tables had been. They were not to be seen now. 
 He stumbled through the ash and brick to the place.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 459 
 
 He kicked about in the ashes in hopes to find a 
 stray bottle that had been thrown about by the ban 
 queters, or cast there by the tornadic force. His 
 foot hit something. He stooped and felt. It was a 
 human hand. He shuddered, but did not allow this 
 to hinder him from his purpose. Two more bodies 
 did he discover. At last his foot hit something hard. 
 Was it a brick or a wine bottle. His breath came 
 hard. If the latter, it meant perhaps life for Olive. 
 His hand sought it. It was a bottle partially filled 
 with wine of the finest French brand. He rushed 
 back to where she lay, just at the edge of the dais, 
 over which the grinning idol of Beelzebub still 
 looked, intact. He placed the bottle to Olive s lips, 
 and allowed a few drops to trickle into her mouth. 
 She swallowed it. He gave her more. This stim 
 ulated her, so that when he took her hand an an 
 swering pressure was given him. Soon her breath 
 ing, as had his, grew stronger and more frequent. 
 Then she raised her hand to her unopened eyes. 
 She knew of some one s presence, for again her 
 hand sought his. A moment later she opened her 
 eyes, smiled knowingly at him and again closed 
 them. 
 
 " God be praised," he said fervently. " She 
 lives. She lives." 
 
 Then he raised her to a sitting posture, and 
 kneeling himself grasped her in his arms. He
 
 460 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 kissed her on the eyes and mouth. He cried. He 
 shouted for joy. Again and again he exclaimed, 
 "She lives! She lives!" 
 
 Later they talked of what had happened. They 
 had been up in the idol when the fire struck the 
 Temple, and must have lost consciousness and fallen 
 to the floor below, where they had found them 
 selves. They looked at one another. Both were 
 ash begrimed and hollow eyed. The unconscious 
 ness through which they had passed had undoubtedly 
 served them to a good purpose. Yet the ordeal had 
 been so strenuous that even now they were ex 
 hausted and broken. 
 
 Graham looked about for a place of exit. The 
 walls were so thrown down that egress would be 
 difficult anywhere. Yet the way they had entered 
 seemed most inviting. He surveyed the way to 
 the door that had formerly led from the room. It 
 presented obstacles in the way of debris, and a pile 
 of something else that on a more critical examina 
 tion he saw were human bodies, lying criss cross, 
 heaped together so high that even the ash had not 
 covered them. Some bodies were charred into 
 a calcined mass, blistered and tumefying, the clothes 
 burned away from some, others with clothing in 
 tact. The features of some were badly distorted, 
 and yet others but a yard away were easy of 
 recognition, proving that fire had destroyed some,
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 461 
 
 and the death-dealing gases accounted for the death 
 of others. 
 
 Did he recognize in this scene of holocaust any 
 faces he knew ? Yes, he did. The awful expression 
 of terror on the faces of the recognized dead, in 
 delibly pictured itself in his mind. 
 
 He took Olive by the hand and led her forth, 
 over the debris and fallen basalt idols that had 
 adorned the place, past the rows of the blistered 
 dead and through ashes that buried more. 
 
 By way of the long hall or corridor to the street, 
 they made their way. What a revelation and what 
 a scene! The city destroyed or burning, here and 
 there desultory fires told that the devastation was 
 not yet completed. The trees were uprooted or 
 burned in places. Where the paving showed 
 through the ash it had melted or was yet hot under 
 their feet. Telegraph and telephone wires were 
 down, melted in pieces or wound about the trees. 
 St. Pierre, the beautiful, the city of rich parks and 
 mosaic pavements, of private scenic gardens so ex 
 quisite, and of shady streets, but withal, the city of 
 wicked lusts and the stronghold of the Devil Wor 
 shippers, was no more. The Biblical tragedy of 
 Sodom and Gomorrah had been re-enacted. 
 
 " God would not suffer himself to be further 
 mocked. He has avenged himself," fervently said 
 Graham.
 
 462 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 Amidst the scenes of ruin, as if by mutual consent, 
 they knelt in the ashes and Graham lifted up his 
 voice, and thanked God for their deliverance. Tears 
 flowed down the woman s cheeks as they arose. 
 
 " Harold," she asked, " the Abbess, the sisters 
 and the dear little ones, what of them ? " 
 
 His eye swept the city s limitations. " I fear 
 they too have perished." 
 
 A great cry, " Oh mamma, mamma, Abbess," es 
 caped her, and she would have fallen had not he 
 given her support. In soothing tones, he calmed 
 her, yet not denying that he thought them all dead. 
 
 " I fear none are spared save us, yet it is the 
 Divine will." 
 
 Still weeping she took from her bosom the packet 
 the Abbess had given her, containing the receipt 
 of her fortune on deposit at the bank of his dead 
 father and handed it to him. 
 
 While yet she wept, he piloted her to without the 
 city. As Adam and Eve went forth to view the 
 world after the fall, so they walked forth in great 
 -sorrow. They passed over this way and that, 
 through streets that ran toward Pelee, as here the 
 blast had not littered the streets, taking cross streets 
 only when practicable, that in this way they might 
 quicker reach the Fort de France road. 
 
 Graham thought he would take Olive to his home. 
 She could not well object under the present circum-
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 463 
 
 stances. He stopped abruptly in his thoughts. Yes, 
 there opened a way. They could be married. 
 
 They passed the place where stood the Plaza 
 Hotel. Little was left of it. Its guests had 
 perished. They know naught of the serpent 
 Le Tosco, at Mile. Sara s instigation, had placed in 
 Durand s bed, but it too was dead, for not a 
 bird, not an insect, not a crawling thing was left. 
 The vengeance of Sara had miscarried. Both she 
 and her would-be victim had paid the debt to one 
 who said, " Vengeance is mine." 
 
 They saw the ruins of the cathedral, with but 
 one wall now standing. This wall screened the 
 convent from their view. The great clock in the 
 cathedral had stopped at two minutes past eight, 
 thus marking the coming of the cataclysm. Graham 
 bade Olive stand here a moment. He passed down 
 to the convent. He mounted the front wall, and 
 looked over at the ruins. Everything there had 
 been incinerated. Yet to satisfy himself that none 
 buried there were yet alive, he called loudly several 
 times. No answer came back. Smoking, burning 
 ruins forbade investigation. He looked over the 
 garden which for him held such sacred memories. 
 It was concealed beneath the white mantle of ash. 
 He heaved a great sigh, and went back to Olive. 
 
 "Did you see anything; are all dead?" she 
 asked.
 
 464 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 Together they shed tears as they walked on. 
 Further down the burning street they heard a groan. 
 It floated to their ears from somewhere. They 
 paused. Graham had reasoned that they were 
 probably the only survivors, in fact the only ones 
 who had been so well protected. He walked to a 
 cellar nearby. The brick of a small building had 
 been thrown from its foundation into the cellar. 
 No fire was there. The groans came again. He 
 was right; they came from this cellar. He jumped 
 down into it, and with his hands dug in a corner 
 from which came the groans. A man s body came 
 to view, a native, black and forbidding of face. 
 Graham asked him in French. 
 
 " Do you too live? " 
 
 " Yes," said the man as he sat up. " What 
 happened? " 
 
 Graham told him. 
 
 The native was a criminal and confined in a 
 dungeon here. This place was a jail or station. 
 In spite of the ordeal through which he had passed, 
 he recovered himself soon, and Graham assisted 
 him out of the cellar, and the three started for 
 the Fort de France road. 
 
 On the outskirts of what had been the city, they 
 came upon ghouls already at work, pillaging the 
 dead who lay in the streets and the houses. No
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 465 
 
 vigilance committee was here to shoot these 
 marauders, and they worked on unmolested. They 
 had come from the surrounding country towns 
 to prey upon the dead, as the scavenger vulture 
 seizes upon the fallen kid. 
 
 At the city s entrance a great crowd of natives 
 and sightseers were gathered, together with friends 
 and relatives of the dead, mourning and wailing, 
 their faces elongated, their eyes swollen, their cries 
 extending heavenward in one mighty wail. Even 
 the sightseers in sympathy could not keep back their 
 tears. 
 
 Eagerly Graham scanned the crowd for sight 
 of Best. Surely he would be there. Friendship 
 such as theirs would bring him here, as at least a 
 mourner over this vast funeral pyre. Yes he was 
 there, as a mourner. It cannot be said he was in 
 waiting for them, or for Graham, for he thought 
 he had perished with the city s populace. 
 
 He was there, but such a Best, so changed. The 
 blithe and gay are most affected by grief. He was 
 in a state of collapse. He had heard of the 
 catastrophe of course, and came on with a great 
 mass of people of Fort de France, who unmindful 
 of the ashes yet falling had come to this scene of 
 earth s greatest modern tragedy. He impressed to 
 his service a horse from the stable, and with a light 
 wagon hurried on. 
 30
 
 466 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 They met thus. Graham, Olive and the convict 
 were the object of much comment and many 
 congratulations as they, the only survivors, came 
 out of the city s ruins, out of the jaws of death 
 as it were. The crowd pressed about them, when 
 Graham heard a shout of joy and recognition on 
 the outskirts of the crowd. He knew the voice. 
 Its owner rushed pell mell through the crowd and 
 to him. 
 
 " Thank God, Thank God," said Best, as they 
 met and clasped one another s hands. 
 
 Poor Best. His eyes were blood-shot, his face 
 long and pale, his hair disheveled, he was hatless. 
 Now he was completely unnerved. His emotional 
 disposition gave way to its idiosyncrasies. He 
 laughed, he wept. " You, you " he said, " you 
 two are saved." 
 
 Later Best went for the horse that was tethered 
 to a tree by the roadside. They then drove home. 
 Best, the intrepid, the loquacious, and ofttimes 
 garrulous, talked incessantly as they drove onward. 
 The other two were silent. They were homeward 
 bound, after an experience that only Divine inter 
 position had saved from its almost inevitable conse 
 quences. Plenty of reason had Graham for silence. 
 He was thinking it over and over, and of Olive and 
 the future. 
 
 Olive s thoughts were a mixture of sadness and
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 467 
 
 uncertainty. Her home was destroyed. Her 
 friend and protector through the years from child 
 hood until now was dead. Where was she going? 
 With Graham ? Yes, with her lover. To his home ? 
 To stay? These questions were unanswered. 
 
 The future for the time looked blank. All was 
 changed for her. What was in front ? As if for an 
 answer, she looked at Graham. His face was sad, 
 yet noble, she thought, as she gazed upon it. It 
 grew more so while she looked. His sober, inspir 
 ing countenance reassured her. Yes, he was brave; 
 he was good. His judgment would prevail. She 
 would go with him, to be with him. 
 
 They came in sight of the house of Graham, the 
 shingle thatched cottage among the giant palms, the 
 daffodils and magnolias. Graham surveyed the 
 scene. Unmindful of Best s presence, he took 
 Olive s hand. 
 
 " Home, Olive," as he nodded toward it, " your 
 home and mine." 
 
 Turning to Best, he said, " Who are those people 
 there on the porch? A man and a woman I 
 think." 
 
 " Oh," said Best, " I forgot to tell you of them. 
 They are refugees from St. Pierre who came along 
 last night and applied for shelter, a man and wife, 
 Protestant Missionaries from the States. I asked 
 them to stay until I returned. So thoughtful of
 
 468 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 
 
 me wasn t it, for the minister will earn his keep 
 while here." 
 
 " How ? " asked Graham, not understanding. 
 
 " How ? Why he can officiate at the wedding. 
 Why not? No outside interference will be neces 
 sary. I will be Best man, with accent on the best, 
 see; the clergyman s wife bridesmaid, and the bride 
 can give herself away." 
 
 " A good suggestion," said Graham, as Olive 
 blushingly surveyed the giant palms. 
 
 ***** 
 
 On the porch behind the screens a week later the 
 wedding did take place. The smoke from Pelee 
 had partially disappeared. The earth and nature 
 were again harmonious, and the daffodils and the 
 magnolias, moved by the sweet scented Southern 
 trade winds, looked on and nodded approvingly. 
 
 Four years later. It was again the month of 
 May. Luxuriant flowers surrounded the cot 
 tage of the Grahams . The man of the house 
 was just returning from the seaport, where he had 
 been to meet a visitor from the States, one Best 
 by name. A carriage stopped at the gate. A wo 
 man, with dark clear skin and eyes of midnight hue, 
 took the hand of her son, a toddler of nearly two 
 years existence, and came down the walk between 
 the flowers to greet her guests, Olive and her son.
 
 THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER. 469 
 
 Olive greeted Best warmly, while Graham smiled 
 approvingly at her. 
 
 " I bring you good tidings," he said. " For four 
 years I have sought to unearth the places where 
 Durand had deposited your fortune. I have done 
 this. I bring to you receipts for a sum that is al 
 most fabulous." 
 
 " A new Convent shall be built on this island," she 
 said in measured tones, " built to perpetuate the 
 memory of the dead Abbess whom I loved so 
 dearly." 
 
 Best picked up the boy. " Your name, sir? " he 
 asked, as he tossed him far above his head. 
 
 The boy replied promptly, " Franklin Best Gra 
 ham." 
 
 Best put him down and looked at him. " It is 
 well, sir, that you were named for me. To me 
 you owe your existence, to my inventive mind, my 
 kites, and the fact that I corralled a minister to 
 marry your parents. Franklin Best Graham you 
 are a brick. I can see it in your eye." 
 
 " He will be if he lives up to his name," said the 
 father, as the happy quartette moved up the path 
 between the foliage, to the screen-covered porch.
 
 j$jt$nj$jt$ji$ t$Ji$ <& 
 
 I PATHS CROSSING! 
 
 ^ A ROMANCE OF THE PLAINS j| 
 
 By MAUDE CLARK GAY -g> 
 
 xi Author of " The Knitting of the Souls" cz, 
 
 Jz^ There is in this story such a thread of "^ 
 
 beauty and power, the magic of its style 
 
 <} is so rare, so sweet, that its laurels must {> 
 
 <>} grow brighter with the passing of time. {> 
 
 W f | \VVO Eastern girls, orphans and sisters, 3=f 
 
 j^ go to Oklahoma to teach in the Indian "^ 
 schools. The romance of their beauty, the Tx 
 
 - "^ tragedy of their love for the same man, the {> 
 
 <Q- serpent trail of his past, heroic sacrifice, revenge, -S 
 
 XL despair, triumph, all these strands are woven with r^ 
 
 1? the sure touch of the master hand into a tale of in- ;=f 
 
 <~-4- -/-*> 
 
 "g tense dramatic fire and pathos and beauty. jrrT 
 
 STHE GOLDEN WEST! 
 
 } The author has lived her Golden West, the {* 
 
 <- glory, the color, the freedom of this land of en- -*> 
 
 <^i chantment are painted as she has seen it. Her <?> 
 
 X) hero, heroine, desperadoes, scenes, plot, all are ci 
 
 1? drawn with the broad and breezy strength that "^f 
 
 g the boundless sweep of the plains inspires, and the jS" 
 
 VJ leaven of love works in its own mysterious way, "t? 
 
 <} always new and enchanting. {> 
 
 c*-*- 
 
 * Handsomely Bound. 
 P 
 
 rice 
 
 Striking Illustrations 
 1.50 
 
 AT ALL BOOKSELLERS OR SENT PREPAID BY 
 
 THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING 
 Boston, Massachusetts 
 
 CO. 

 
 
 
 Climbing Upf 
 
 to Nature f 
 
 -g> 
 
 : : : : By FLORENCE J. LEWIS : : : : -g> 
 
 > 
 
 READ ABOUT g> 
 
 Mrs. Jawkins tea party i^ 
 
 The grocery man s free outing to his " paid-ups "- - f?> 
 
 The Christmas supper at the church ~~^ 
 
 The droll characterization of Miss Beals, Miss Pip, ix 
 
 the Widow Smith, and other dwellers in McCor- _5> 
 
 mack s Circle, and you will laugh as you have jzf 
 
 not laughed over any book in many a long day. ex 
 
 Scintillating with delicious humor, full of just the kind i^T 
 
 of natural fun we have all hugely enjoyed at times, but _?> 
 
 have never had the wit to put into words, its drollery ~f 
 
 flashes back at us in every chapter like the ripples of a "ex 
 
 sunny brook. _*> 
 
 One chapter of such a story is worth a cartload of .*, 
 
 " problem " novels. jrf 
 
 But with all its fun, there is an underlying sympathy :=f 
 
 for the homely characters so faithfully and good-humoredly Trx 
 
 protrayed. The efforts of the gifted and lovable heroine -C^> 
 
 to lift them out of their narrow interests, and her own ;=f 
 
 charming romance, lend beauty and harmony of purpose "cs 
 
 to this brilliant story. _g> 
 
 Through the whole book runs a delightful acquaintance -C^> 
 
 with Nature, that softens and sweetens its exuberant fun. 2^ 
 
 & 
 
 Fully illustrated, handsomely hound J> 
 
 Price, $1.50 {> 
 
 AT ALL NEWSDEALERS OR SENT PREPAID BY {> 
 
 THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. & 
 
 Boston, Massachusetts ;*
 
 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 University of California, San Diego 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 21983 
 
 a 39 
 
 UCSD Libr.
 
 A 000818206 5