‘We are sad,’ said the third old man, ‘because the vanishing years have taught us wisdom, and we know all things. But you, being young, know nothing.’
And the three old men shook their heads in unison and hobbled away.
The child stood still and puzzled for a moment. Then it said to itself: ‘They did not answer those questions properly. They are wrong, but I do not know why.’
Then seeing a butterfly, the child ran after it, shouting with glee.
THE LAST GLIMPSE OF A WELL-KNOWN FIGURE IN SOCIETY
THE eternal flames curled and writhed, thrusting out their voracious tongues. There was a great roaring and hissing, and everywhere the shrieking of damned and tortured souls.
Mrs Bilkington-Biggs, late of Mayfair and ‘The Laurels,’ Bucks., was chatting to various acquaintances in that sprightly fashion which made her one of Society’s most charming hostesses.
‘What! You here’—she prattled, ‘so delightful, I’m sure.—Yes—the most wonderful time—Thursday last—we dined at the Moloch-Molochs’—You must know them—All the nicest people there—Have you met Mr Beelzebub?—Oh, quite a charming man—knows simply everybody—He’s bringing the Herod and Nero set to one of my Thursdays—Delighted to meet you, I’m sure—What, not the Mr Judas?—Oh—really—d’you know—.’ And so she went on, glancing curiously from time to time at a great black object nearby, which seemed to form the base of a vast pillar, half hidden in the smoke.
‘No, my dear,’ continued Mrs Bilkington-Biggs, ‘I haven’t been presented to him yet.—I haven’t seen his Highness—but, of course, you know the real season hasn’t quite begun—’
The great black object moved with dramatic terrible swiftness. It was Satan’s right hoof, and with one awful kick, it sent Mrs Bilkington-Biggs flying into the roaring furnace.