Thord approached with a white unused quill, and a vellum scroll on which the names of all the members of the Society were written in ominous red. He handed these writing implements to Leroy.
“Dip your pen here,” said Lotys, pointing to the crimson drop on her arm, and eyeing him still with the same half-sweet, half-doubting smile—“But when the quill is full, beware that you write no treachery!”
For one second Leroy appeared to hesitate. He was singularly unnerved by the glances of those dark blue eyes, which like searchlights seemed to penetrate into every nook and cranny of his soul. But his recklessness and love of adventure having led him so far, it was now too late to retract or to reconsider the risks he might possibly be running. He therefore took the quill and dipped it into the crimson drop that welled from that soft white flesh.
“This is the strangest ink I have ever used!” he said lightly,—“but—at your command, Madame——!”
“At my command,” rejoined Lotys, “your use of it shall make your oath indelible!”
He smiled, and wrote his name boldly ‘Pasquin Leroy’ and held out the pen for his companions to follow his example.
“Ach Gott!” exclaimed Max Graub, as he dipped the pen anew into the vital fluid from a woman’s veins—“I write my name, Madame, in words of life, thanks to your condescension!”
“True!” she answered,—“And only by your own falsehood can you change them into words of death!”
Signing his name ‘Max Graub,’ he looked up and met her searching gaze. Something there was in the magnetic depth of her eyes that strangely embarrassed him, for he stepped back hastily as though intimidated. Axel Regor took the pen from his hand, and wrote his name, or rather scrawled it carelessly, almost impatiently,—showing neither hesitation nor repugnance to this unusual method of subscribing a document.
“You are acting on compulsion!” said Lotys, addressing him in a low tone; “Your compliance is in obedience to some other command than ours! And—you will do well to remain obedient!”