"Why, then?" I asked at once.
"I am to tell the audience that they are 'subpenaed as witnesses.' In other words, their attention is directed, they must be part of a certain ceremony. I, too, am needed. Varduk is making me the clerk, so to speak, of his court—or his cult. That shows that he will preside."
"It begins to mean something," I admitted. "Yet I am still at a loss."
Pursuivant's own pale lips were full of perplexity. "I wish that we could know more before the actual beginning. Yet I, who once prepared and judged legal cases, may be able to sum up in part:
"Something is to happen to Miss Holgar. The entire fabric of theatrical activity—this play, the successful effort to interest her in it, the remote theater, her particular rôle, everything—is to perform upon her a certain effect. That effect, we may be sure, is devastating. We may believe that a part, at least, of the success depends on the last line of the play, a mystery as yet to all of us."
"Except to Varduk," I reminded.
"Except to Varduk."
But a new thought struck me, and for a moment I found it comforting.
"Wait. The ceremony, as you call it, can't be all evil," I said. "After all, he asks her to swear on a Bible."
"So he does," Pursuivant nodded. "What kind of a Bible?"