Chapter II: Part 2

Carl was impressed with the solid, substantial appearance of the old house. At one end of it, the north wing, was a glass-enclosed room, beginning at the second story and ending slightly above the regular roof-line of the building. The front door was of fortified steel. To the dull surface of the door was secured a substantial bronze tablet, covered with a rich patina of long exposure, on which were inscribed the words:

BRING NOT YOUR TALES OF THE WORLD
YOU KNOW, FOR BEHIND THIS DOOR
LIES A WORLD YOU WILL NEVER ENTER.

"A most hospitable door," Carl said.

"Yes, a door without a latch-key," Pierre replied.

"Then how do you open it?"

His question was answered with the silent movement of the steel door, as if someone had opened it from the inside; although in the dim light of the reception hall, Carl could see no sign of another occupant.

"It opens by cutting off the beam of light that passes from the post at one side of the door to the post on the other," Pierre said, as he ushered Carl into the hallway.

Carl turned and watched the door close silently behind him.

"You have them in some of your modern office buildings," Pierre continued. "This door has opened that way for the past forty years. My father developed the principle. Come, we will go to my observatory."

Pierre led Carl to a narrow stairway leading upward to the north wing. Up one flight they moved silently. A dim blue light illuminated the landing, and shed its ghostly rays down another hall. Up another flight, leading in the same general direction, they walked. Carl felt as if he were climbing slowly through a mad dream.

Passing through a heavy, rivet-studded door, they entered the laboratory. The room was vast, covering the entire top floor of the house. The glass enclosure which he had seen from outside served only one end and corner of this amazing room. The walls were of a peculiar gray, glowing softly as if phosphorescent. Throughout the entire expanse of the room there was arranged an incalculable assortment of instruments, switch-boards, control-panels, glass and polished chromium, copper and brass. To Carl it was like suddenly entering a room fitted with all the strange instruments of the alchemists, and yet it was like looking ahead, fifty, a hundred or even two hundred years into the future.

Pierre led the astounded Carl over beneath the glass dome. Here seemed to be the major control position for all the complex horde of machines that filled the room. In the center of this circular space stood a small insulated platform. Upon it, supported by gleaming glass rods, stood a huge, hollow hemisphere, from which emanated an eery blue light. Coming closer and looking downward into it, Carl was thrilled to see moving objects, familiar outlines of buildings he knew belonged to that part of London called Piccadilly Circus.

"This will explain the question you asked me earlier in the evening. The inventors of modern television would be envious if they knew of this creation. I need no transmitting station to bring into my home any scene I may desire."

Pierre quickly removed his cape, and began tinkering with an assortment of strange knobs upon a large panel back of the bowl. The Piccadilly Circus scene disappeared, and into its place came a picture of Ruth's deserted apartment.

Again Pierre turned the knobs, and the scene in the bowl became a moving panorama of London streets. Swiftly they passed, until the estate of the Countess Moonard appeared in the strange vessel.

"It is astounding. How--how----?" Carl gasped.

"To explain its operation would take all of our time, my boy. I have many other things to show you, the work of my ancestors and myself. This magnetic bowl has been most helpful. Through it I have been able to follow the unholy activities of the Countess Moonard. That night after I left you, I hurried back here and drew the light-rays of the Countess Moonard's home into the bowl. I saw her anointing your fiancée with the oils in preparation for the sacrifice to come; saw her filling the mind of the girl with the evil suggestions of the God of Sudre. When Ruth was sent back to her apartment, still in the trance of Moonerism, I then took over her mind. I had to be cautious, as I did not want her to confuse my suggestions with the thoughts of Moonere. When you found Ruth this morning, the Countess and I were both battling for control of the girl's mind."

"Can you see where they have Ruth?" Carl asked anxiously.

"Certainly!" Pierre turned the knobs again.

* * * * *

The little dials that traced the locations he wanted shivered onto the desired points, and Carl beheld a thrilling sight. In the bowl there was appearing a picture that resembled nothing of modern London. He saw a temple of ancient Egypt. The towering pillars along the side of the temple were adorned with strange hieroglyphics of forgotten beliefs. The vision moved slowly, like a motion-picture camera shot traveling to a close-up scene that ended at an altar where a mysterious fire was burning. The picture remained steady for only a moment, then moved on to a room filled with many pillows. Upon a richly draped couch, Carl saw his fiancée lying as if in deep slumber. Negro slaves were anointing her slim, white body with precious oils. The chamber of a princess in some forgotten age this could have been--but the girl was Ruth!

"What are they doing to her?" Carl cried out, his fingers reaching into the bowl as if he hoped to pluck her from the couch.

"They are making ready for the night of the sacrifice. Every woman who takes the vows of Moonere relinquishes her charms to the God of Sudre."

"You mean----?" Carl's fists tightened.

"It is the price each one pays for her beauty. Poor deluded fools! They come to the Countess, seeking beauty and charm with which to win and hold the man they love; instead, they give up their most priceless virtue. The God of Sudre takes their charms onto himself."

"How? You say this God is not of this world?" Carl asked.

"Look!" Pierre changed the scene in the globe.

Slowly the picture moved down the magnificent room. It approached a bronze platform, and paused. There upon the bronze dais, standing erect, was the golden image of a man, or demigod. The image was about seven feet tall. The details were perfectly wrought, and every muscle and fiber of that magnificent nude statue was the embodiment of the perfect development of masculinity. Yet it was a sensual development, eliminating all that might be good, and emphasizing all that is base and carnal. The face was cruel beyond any conception of men. The features were sharply brutal. Silent and motionless it stood, but the eyes were alive; and from them burned a dull, blue-black light that chilled Carl's blood as he watched.

"That is the image of the God of Sudre," explained Pierre. "Tonight, when the rays from Sudre become most intense, Sudre's spirit will enter it, and it will become imbued with life, the evil life of Sudre. Tonight it will indulge in an orgy of lust at which even the most dissolute of ancient Romans would have shuddered. Your bride-to-be is to give herself for ever to Sudre, and for ever she will be lost to you. No mortal man will ever possess her."

"No! No!" Carl cried out in tortured frustration.

"You will see on the night of the sacrifice," Pierre said calmly.

"But what are you going to do to save her? You haven't told me yet how this monster can be stopped."

"Everything I have and know, I will use. If I fail"--Pierre's shoulders shrugged--"there is no one to carry out my work. If I win, Moonere will be destroyed; the tortured souls, who have given all for beauty, will at last be free. We have only a few hours more. As we have talked, this night has passed. Another day is upon us; with its end comes the night when the evil rays will be fully focussed. Moonere will again send the hellish light that I have fought. Tonight I will use everything to combat her--telepathy, advanced knowledge of science, and secrets that will die with me."

"But what shall I be doing?"

"You will be helping me. Within these all too short hours, you will be learning the operation of the many machines. Follow me."

Pierre led him to another corner of the room, where an instrument, not unlike a telescope, was placed. He handed Carl a pair of glasses with very thick, colored lenses.

"Look through these. Look into the instrument, and tell me what you see."

"It looks like a beam of light, but it seems to stop in the sky; it is like a highway of white marble that ends abruptly," Carl said.

"You see the ray from the fire on Sudre, traveling at a faster speed than light, bringing with it the secret of beauty and death that only the star-glass of Moonere can transmute to potency. Now watch this!"

Pierre moved to a high stand that supported a cone-shaped searchlight reflector. He made several deft adjustments, and then pushed in a switch on the long panel that ran the length of the room. Carl, with the aid of the glasses, could see a light-beam shoot into the heavens and travel in the direction of the beam that seemed suspended in the sky.

"This is my latest invention. Everything depends upon it. Tonight you will see a spectacular sight. Everything we do will be controlled from here. You and I, working with science, destroying that which is beyond this planet."

Carl looked about him. He reached out his hand and touched a metal laboratory bench; its solidity reassured his slipping sense of the reality of it all. Dazed, he wandered again to the bowl. What he saw made him start as if he had been shot with electricity. Inspector Chadwick was struggling with two brawny servants in the temple.

"It's Chadwick!" Carl cried. "They've captured him."

* * * * *

Pierre hurried to the glass.

"The fool!" he rasped. "Why did he go there? I thought you had warned that detective friend of yours to keep out of this. Now they will make him a prisoner. They may not wait until tonight for the sacrifice to destroy him."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Nothing, unless they hold him for the dance of the maidens in the temple. One thing certain, he will be burned as I was, or even destroyed upon the altar. Watch closely, and you will see why no one has ever betrayed the secret of Moonere."

Breathlessly Carl watched them drag Chadwick into a small throneroom where the Countess Moonard, clothed in the robes of an ancient priestess, sat in serene majesty.

They threw him down in front of the throne. He rose and shook his fist threateningly at the Countess. She smiled; her long, deeply beautiful eyes looked into his face. His trembling arms stopped shaking and dropped limply to his side. He stood in hypnotized rigidity. She pointed to a door that slowly opened. Chadwick walked meekly through it. The slaves bowed before the Countess and followed him through the door.

"He's going into the dungeon. They are saving him for a later sacrifice," Pierre said, almost relieved. "That means we have time; we may save him."

"Chadwick wouldn't have gone to the Countess' unless he suspected something more than he let me know. He must have been well protected. He's no fool. A man can't just disappear--not an Inspector from Scotland Yard. Chadwick would have his men following him. They will get him out of that dungeon," Carl spoke with growing determination.

"You are mistaken." Pierre turned the knobs again.

The bowl showed Chadwick's men rushing into the reception hall of the Countess' home. Twisting the knob again, the bowl revealed the Countess smiling innocently. A servant brought in three of Chadwick's men. They began talking angrily to the Countess. Then the door where Chadwick had gone down into the dungeon opened. He came out, and began talking to his men.

"They're leaving!" Carl cried.

"Yes, he has instructed them to go. He has told them there is nothing wrong. Your friend's mind no longer belongs to him; his every thought, his words are the words and thoughts of Moonere. She has told him to send the men away, assuring them that nothing is wrong. You see they are gone. And now Chadwick returns to the dungeon."

"Why can't you take over his mind as you did Ruth's? You said you could do it. Why can't you free him from Moonere's grasp?"

"I can," Pierre answered calmly, "but to do that would place your fiancée in danger. Every minute I have concentrated upon her. Within her mind is the continual conflict of two powers struggling for supremacy. For the present, it is best that I whisper, 'Peace and quiet,' to the girl. You see how she slumbers, so still and unmoving; that aids my plan.

"When the time comes for the sacrifice, they will discover that their lovely maiden is not to join their dance of passion."

Pierre began laughing at the thoughts that were damning Carl.

"You need not fear, my friend; she will sleep, sleep; and nothing Moonere can do will make her gratify the desires of the evil God of Sudre. Tonight you will see a disappointed God!"

_5. The Golden Image_

Throughout the hours, Carl crammed the many secrets of Pierre Soret's strange machines. It seemed to him that he had forced the learning of all the world into his brain.

Midnight found him staring with weary eyes into the sky. The night was clear; and above the dimly haze-rimmed horizon Carl could see the metallic glitter of the stars. Looking through the telescope with his specially designed glasses, he found the light-beam again. This time it hovered very closely to the center of the heavens.

Pierre moved from one machine to another, tightening little adjustments, testing each minute detail.

When the beam reached its zenith, he said: "Now we will see the beginning of war."

In the globe, Carl could see the temple. The fire upon the altar was blazing brightly. Along the walls sat many slaves, playing strange musical instruments. The light in the temple was blue, the silvery, all-pervading blue of moonlight.

"Tonight they will begin the dance of invitation to the God of Sudre." Pierre peered over Carl's shoulder into the bowl. "Before his golden image, they will perform the subtle dance of seduction, inviting him to come and take them in his arms, and embrace them. You see the beam of light. From Sudre it has traveled the miles of space, and hurried with its concentrated rays into the star-glass. See how the flames upon the altar blaze tonight. The dance begins with Moonere's entrance. She will give her signal. Watch!"

The Countess Moonard entered the temple from a small door at one end, walked slowly through the throng, each worshipper bowing as she passed, and came before the image of Sudre. Standing there, she was both terrifying and beautiful. Her body became slowly rigid. She flung back her head, and her long, black hair fell down behind her. Her body glowed with sensuous intensity. She raised her arms slowly, in supplication and desire, and then let them fall to her side.

The musicians increased the tempo of their playing. Onto the floor of the temple came the dancing forms of many beautiful women, clad only in their long hair that waved like misty light about their supple bodies. Arms outstretched, they danced rhythmically before the idol. In the pale blue light of the temple, their forms were like white marble statues suddenly breathing life. Around and around before the God they danced, their passionate movements growing more and more intense.

Carl watched, revolted and yet fascinated by the obscene gyrations of these beautiful nude dancers who threw their charms in rhythmic supplication toward the golden image.

Shadows darted about the temple walls, shadows of arms raised high and lowered quickly across sculptured white curves, shadows of bodies thrusting and withdrawing with compelling seductiveness. Beautiful faces, swelling breasts, and eyes that cried for love--the love of an inhuman idol of gold!

"It's moving!" Pierre cried. "The God of Sudre returns."

Carl could not speak; he could only stare into the glowing sphere. The golden image was moving! Slowly the sinewy muscles of its arms moved downward; strong golden fingers felt along its thighs; its chest expanded as it drew in the scented breath of the temple. Carl saw the arm of the God reach down and bring up a lovely white form. He saw her swoon with pleasure in the embrace of this golden image that now lived. He saw the God release the white form of the girl, saw her fair body writhe with tormented desire, her hands clutching eagerly for him. On he walked to the throne beside the altar. As he walked, the maidens bent down before him, their lips caressed his feet, slender fingers sought to touch him as he moved majestically above that sea of adoring flesh. Moonere bowed before him. He touched her shoulder, and raised her up to meet his lips in the lingering kiss. Then he sat down upon the scarlet throne.

Food and wine were brought to him by the maidens, each seeking to outdo the others in her attentions. They fairly groveled at his throne.

"Now they will bring him the new sacrifice," Pierre said tensely. "I will let her walk slowly so that Moonere will fail to see that my mind controls her. But he will never possess her!"

"Oh, God, I pray not!" cried Carl.

* * * * *

Ruth entered the temple, her eyes staring glassily in front of her. From her shoulders trailed a flimsy white cloth, her slender form gleaming through it in the pale blue light. Two of the maidens led her to the Golden God. In torment, Carl watched him feast his eyes upon Ruth's beauty. Unable to stand the sight, Carl turned from the globe.

He looked beseechingly to Pierre. The man's lips moved in formless speech. Pierre was talking to Ruth, he knew. He looked again to see if it had worked. Carl gasped as he saw Ruth fall in a crumpled faint before the throne. Moonere rushed to her. The maidens began laboring over Ruth's lifeless form. The Golden Image frowned. Carl watched the look of surprize fade from Moonere's face; slowly, gradually it became a smiling mask of cruelty. Pierre was now laughing.

"Ah, they do not enjoy that! Moonere is puzzled. Moonere and the Golden God of Sudre are disappointed for once!" his voice rasped. He shook his fist into the globe. "Now what will you do, Moonere? What will you do to me?"

As Pierre spoke, Carl saw Moonere dart to the altar and pull quickly upon some heavy chains that hung in front of the blazing fire. Slowly a shining disk of platinum appeared. Moonere swung it rapidly until it caught the light of the hellish fire that burned upon the altar. Its glistening surface began to glow. Suddenly a blinding flash of light engulfed the globe before the two figures concentrated in front of it. Pierre's vast room filled with a strange purple and blue-green light.

"Quick! Turn on the ray-machine!" Pierre cried, pushing Carl out of his way as he hurried to the panel. "Your glasses, don't forget them. Don't forget to turn Z-4. And when I tell you, let me have R-9." Pierre was shouting now.

All through the room the strange light shattered into millions of little stars. The ray from Pierre's machine shot upward through the sky. Carl saw it cross the ray that was coming from Sudre. The sky in the vicinity of the rays, that could only be seen through Pierre's glasses, was filled with a mighty conflict of fire.

"More phosphorous liquid. Hurry! Hurry!" Pierre was almost screaming now. Carl pulled the lever, and the liquid poured into a tank beside the ray-machine. He worked feverishly, following Pierre's orders. Everything he had previously rehearsed, he now performed rapidly and automatically. He turned knobs, pulled switches, poured mysterious liquids into tanks, watched a pageantry of light and small sparkling stars leap about the room, dancing from corner to corner.

The room grew hotter. Perspiration dripped from Carl's face as he struggled to follow the orders issued by Pierre. Although he knew what to do when Pierre commanded, he did not know what each separate action meant. It was enough that he could recognize the orders and could do what must have been the simplest of things in this maze of wizardry and science Pierre had developed.

As Carl worked over a boiling vat that contained a thick mixture of evil-smelling chemicals, he felt a severe burning sensation at the back of his neck. Turning his head slightly, he saw two yellow flames shoot toward him from the switch-board panel.

"Take that other tube and place it in the switch-box. Tube X! Tube X!" Pierre's tone was frantic.

Carl whirled around in his excitement, and as he did so, a bottle fell with an explosive crash. Smoke and fire leaped up from the floor. Pierre quenched it quickly with an extinguisher. The heat of the room was beginning to show upon Carl, and he sensed that in a moment he would pass into unconsciousness.

The tube placed in the box as Pierre had directed, Carl staggered blindly back to his duties between the tank and the switch-board panel.

"Something's wrong! Something's wrong!" he heard Pierre say in a croaking voice. The fear that gripped him made it impossible for Carl to ask what was wrong.

Pierre turned from the ray-machine. Carl saw him, and for the moment went insane! Pierre's face was gone! There was only a blue light shining from the open gap that had once been the face of Pierre Soret. Somewhere in that horrible sight were two white pin-points that retained a semblance of the man's eyes. Bluish smoke was issuing from his entire body.

"We must work fast; perhaps you can finish what I have started," Pierre's broken voice came from the awful vision that represented him. "My ray-machine is not powerful enough; I cannot concentrate the rays on the temple with sufficient intensity to effect my purpose. You must take my concentration mirror, which is similar to the one you saw Moonere use. I must release your fiancée from my mind. You must submit yourself to me. I will send you to the temple, if I last that long. Your fiancée will be at their mercy until you arrive."

Sensing the danger, Carl hurried to the globe. Ruth was stretched upon a couch in front of the throne. The maidens were working desperately to revive her, while the Golden Image of Sudre glowered down upon her. Carl realized that once Pierre released his grip upon her mind, Moonere would send her into the greedy clutches of Sudre. Ruth would be lost to him.

"No! I can't permit it. You must save her!" he cried. "But how? Man, you are gone! You do not live, you can't exist as you are! In heaven's name, how could you hope to save anyone, how can you even speak? How? How?"

"This is the only way. Do not doubt me. The rays are destroying me. Everything is going fast. You must go, and I will direct you," Pierre said sternly.

Already Carl could feel the electric touch of Pierre's intellect usurping his. Even his voice sounded weak as he cried out: "No! Save Ruth! Save Ruth! Keep her asleep. Keep her--aslee----"

The blue fire that was Pierre became larger; nothing but blue, blue light filled his eyes; and Pierre, the mind of the great but tortured scientist, filled Carl's brain.

"You will take your car and speed to the Countess Moonard's. Make all haste. Nothing can stop you. You _must_ get there!" Carl heard Pierre's voice as a whisper.

At first he moved stiffly, as if each step needed the command of the man who now controlled his brain. Gradually the feeling decreased. Carl Fielding became Pierre Soret!

Into Carl's pocket Pierre thrust a round, silver disk.

* * * * *

Through the streets that led to the Countess Moonard's star-haunted residence, Carl's roadster sped like a silver bullet upon an errand of mercy. Twice he would have met certain death had it not been for the super-intellect that made quick thinking snap his movements with the deft skill of a racing driver.

"Go faster! There is little time to lose. Go faster! Do not be afraid," the voice of the professor rasped. The wind whipped past Carl's face.

Carl froze as he heard the next words of the man who gripped his brain. "Do not be afraid; nothing can harm you now, for you are not guided by the normal destiny of a human. Something stronger leads me on, and I in turn send you upon this errand which may mean death for you. Some Greater Power of Good now seems to be working against the Evil Thing of Sudre.

"I am slowly being burned to some strange form, I know not what, but my mind is keen and clear. It is the work of destiny, the destiny of good perhaps. You are at the command of my brain."

Carl could not stop now, and even the mighty fear that shook him hurled him forward. On he drove, knowing that every turn he made was being watched by Pierre in the globe--but there was nothing he could do; he was driven by a force far stronger than himself.

"Stop at the servant's entrance," Pierre said, as Carl turned his car into the driveway that led to the Countess' home.

Carl brought his car to a quick stop and leapt from it onto the little walk that led to a narrow doorway in the side of the house.

"Go through that hallway. Run!" the voice commanded.

Carl followed the directions, turning and twisting through a series of doors and porticos, opening secret panels in the walls, and hurrying through a confusing catacomb of corridors until at last he was within the temple where no one else had ever gone without being brought before the Inner Circle of Sudre. Now he was there.

They were dragging Inspector Chadwick to the altar. Huge black slaves were preparing to toss him into the flames. The pealing laughter of the Golden Image rang through the temple. The maidens were dancing; and in the very center of their circle was Ruth, now wild-eyed with passion, her face livid with the same desire Carl had seen upon the faces of the others. She was moving to the Golden Image to give herself to the God of Sudre.

"Reach into your left pocket!"

Carl's frustration ceased as he heard Pierre snap this command. The dancing ceased. An awed hush fell upon the scene of the orgy. A demoniacal scream arose from a chorus of horrified throats as Carl whipped from his pocket the silver disk. Through the glasses he was wearing, Carl saw a reflected ray of glaring intensity flash out from the disk.

He flashed it over the heads of the screaming dancers. Forked tongues of fire leapt in all directions, and licked out against the naked bodies that fled beneath its swiftly darting flames.

The Golden Image roared in anger and plunged forward to strangle Carl. He flashed the ray across the face of the thing, and to his astonishment, the Golden Image seemed no longer alive. It stood still as if it had returned to its former immobile self. Then it began to melt!

"Strike Moonere! Strike Moonere!" came Pierre's staccato command.

Carl lashed the serpentine beam full across the Countess Moonard's face. She cursed him, and screamed a horrible oath. He lashed her again. Retreating before the flailing whip of fire from the disk, the Countess ran and threw herself upon the altar. The flames leapt up, as she disappeared in a flash of blue smoke.

"My work is almost over," Carl heard the faint voice of Pierre Soret, coming like a sigh. "Throw the disk into the flames upon the altar. Hurry, for the altar of Sudre will soon be cool, and only the ashes of its evil reign will smolder in remembrance of the Fire of Sudre."

* * * * *

Carl hurled the disk into the now dwindling flames upon the altar. It twisted and curled with the flames that wrapped about it. Finally the flames sank and vanished, as a silvery snake-like wisp of smoke coiled upward, and then sank gradually into obscurity.

"Now my work is finished," Carl heard Pierre's voice, this time coming to him in the tones of whispered weariness. "Young man, do you know, strange as all my life has been, strange as all the stories of my family's struggle against the evil God of Sudre, I have never been really frightened until now--now I find myself upon the brink of another world.

"The house was burned. The flames consumed me; even as you raced to the temple, the flames were destroying me, yet I did not die. I was so afraid that I would die, and leave you in the temple with the evil I knew was there; but I lived, even after I knew that everything in my house was destroyed by fire. My inventions, my years of work--all were destroyed.

"There is nothing but dreary coldness here; and in the darkness, gray-lined specters hover all about me. Surely this is the realm between the known and the unknown. It is strange to me, like a vast sea of doubt surrounding my soul--yet in the distance I see a light, a light of infinite brightness.

"My fear? Perhaps Sudre's evil ray has tainted my soul; and yet it cannot be, for now, even here, I feel that same moving faith, the magnetic power of good, drawing me on to some better destination. It must be so. Even though I no longer live on earth, and I wander in a land of dreadful strangeness, surely I have conquered evil.

"You are listening, my friend? You hear me speak to you from beyond the border of this life. Shall I always do this? Will you be frightened, young man, when you hear my voice?

"I am watching over you, guarding you from harm. Go to your sweetheart. Lead her quickly from this temple of doom, for it is soon to fall. Lead the ones who are returned to the reality of this earth out of the temple of another world. Lead them into life as we knew it; at least as _you_ knew it. Hurry! There is little time. I will guide you safely out as I guided you into this secret domain."

Carl heard the rumble of falling stones, and saw huge cracks appear in the scrolled walls. Picking Ruth up gently in his arms, he carried her through the portal that would lead them to the outside. He beckoned to the bewildered souls who had witnessed the end of their unholy service to another god. They followed like innocent sheep. Only a few of the black slaves and servants of Moonere remained, silent, stone-like images that seemed no longer alive.

Like the thundering roll of a kettle-drum in some great symphony, Carl heard the sound of the temple falling behind him. Every step of the way that led through the intricate passages out of the Temple of Sudre seemed to crumble as his followers fled close upon his foot-steps.

Soon they found themselves in the reception room of the Countess Moonard; a strange company of unclad women, looking for some answer to their question of where they had spent their lives. Slowly, gradually, they seemed to sense that a terrible past lay behind them: something that was to fade, even as the unnatural beauty of youth faded to conform with their respective ages. Young faces on aged women were growing old as they should have done long ago. With reality came their sense of propriety, and they eagerly sought clothing with which to cover themselves.

Pierre spoke again, commanding Carl to hurry them from the house. Outside, in the clear light of the stars, they turned to see the home of the Countess Moonard sink into the earth. The quick crackle of fire popped in their ears, and the sky became illuminated with a great conflagration.

Inspector Chadwick said little; Carl also remained silent. Tonight was not the time to talk. Secretly Carl hoped that Chadwick would forget, that everyone would forget the Countess Donella Moonard.

* * * * *

London Newspapers in their morning editions carried the story of two fires: the destruction of a three-story house, occupied by an eccentric Professor Pierre Soret, who had presumably compounded some dreadful chemical which had destroyed him and his house; the other, an account of a disaster, either an explosion or fire of unknown origin, that completely demolished the home of the Countess Donella Moonard, killing her and her staff of servants.

Beyond this there was no thought of any connection between the two houses so far apart from each other. Carl smiled somewhat as he read:

"Although the Countess Moonard has been known to certain London socialites, her ancestry was never certified; nor was the claim of Countess hers by any English right. It is generally believed that the Countess originally came from France. She was a woman of mystery and rare beauty; her age was unknown. She was a follower of some strange religious belief, probably of Egyptian origin."

* * * * *

There are women with snow-white hair and failing eyes, hobbling about their homes; women who were once glamorous beauties, noted for their coldness to all men, women whose beauty could have made them beloved. Old and lonely now, they shun the world, living within their homes, wondering when and what will be the end of their existence.

Doctor Carl Fielding has not heard the voice of Pierre Soret for nearly a year now. Sometimes he thinks he hears the echo of that spirit who so strangely left this life. For a while there were moments when Carl felt an awful sense of fear, because the thoughts that were in his brain that night were the thoughts of the man who lived within the fire, but his wife's devotion has dispelled this gloomy fear and led him on to hope.