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