“I’m to blame, but I was in it before I knew it. I joined the cult. I believed that crime was right. I brought Buchanan there. I wanted him to be one of us. Then I saw the book.”
“What book?”
“The Book of Death. We were all in it. Each had his page — a page of death. But we of the faith were immune — unless we broke the faith.
“I learned all that, and then I found that Buchanan was not one of us. He had not stood the secret test. He was to be — a sacrifice!
“I was afraid then. Afraid when Charn called for me alone and showed me the book. But I took some more of the drink that Charn gave me. It made me happy. I agreed to the sacrifice. I was there. I saw — I saw Buchanan die!
“That changed me. I had some of the drink. I knew it was dope — hashish, I thought. I left town the next day. I tried to forget. It was all right until the drink was gone. Then I seemed to become mad.
“I tried to get some hashish. I failed. I tried other narcotics. I could stand none of them. Then came terrible dreams — dreams with the names of others who were written in the book.
“Dale Wharton’s name was among them. I wrote him from Connecticut. He tried to come to see me secretly. He was being watched — by Charn. He was killed.
“George Andrews, another. I was going to see him. I arrived too late. He was hanging, dead. Then Charles Blefken. I had to warn him. I thought he was safe when I found him at his home.
“Then, when he left the room, I was frightened. I was afraid to stay. I found his body. I didn’t wait an instant. I hurried here. Now I am afraid to leave this place. Afraid — afraid—”