“Then perhaps you will not mind signing the contract at once,” said Mr. Satan, drawing from his pocket a type-written page.
Mrs. Bergmann walked to the writing-table and took the paper from his hand.
“Over the stamp, please,” said Mr. Satan.
“Must I—er—sign it in blood?” asked Mrs. Bergmann, hesitatingly.
“You can if you like,” said Mr. Satan, “but I prefer red ink; it is quicker and more convenient.”
He handed her a stylograph pen.
“Must it be witnessed?” she asked.
“No,” he replied, “these kind of documents don’t need a witness.”
In a firm, bold handwriting Mrs. Bergmann signed her name in red ink across the sixpenny stamp. She half expected to hear a clap of thunder and to see Mr. Satan disappear, but nothing of the kind occurred. Mr. Satan took the document, folded it, placed it in his pocket-book, took up his hat and gloves, and said:
“Mr. William Shakespeare will call to luncheon on Thursday week. At what hour is the luncheon to be?”