"You promise to take a solemn oath! Very well. For the love I bear you I will spare your life. But there is one condition."
"Yes," she breathed eagerly.
"You note the ring on that skeleton-hand there? Come nearer, Nita, and examine it. You shudder. A coiled serpent, with quivering, emerald scales, you observe. Is it not magnificent and unique? It has a history, and was made for this woman by a foreign artisan, who then destroyed the pattern. Note the tiny quivering gold wires that uphold each emerald scale. At the least movement of the hand the serpent-head seems to raise itself, and the eyes and scales to glow with malignant greenish fire."
"Yes, yes," she answered impatiently. "But the condition, sir—the condition?"
Scowling darkly at her, he hissed rather than spoke:
"That you take your oath of silence with that skeleton hand clasped in your own, and afterward withdraw the serpent-ring from that bony finger, and wear it always, in memory of this hour."
She shuddered and recoiled at first, then, catching the gleam of triumph in his eye, answered, with apparent calm:
"I agree to your condition."
With an evil, jeering smile, he said: