The Devil grinned. Joe almost dropped his gun. It was hardly a face adaptable to grinning. The resulting grimace was only recognizable as such with the aid of a sort of sixth sense. The intended humor came through, but the physical aspect was soul-shaking.
"Ever hear of possession?" he asked.
Joe stiffened, gripped his gun tighter. "Don't make a move!" he warned.
"I won't need to," the Devil assured him. "I do it all with hypnotism. In a few minutes you will walk back up those stairs, just as you came down them, and tell your wife what she heard was only a cat, and that you put it out. She won't suspect that you are still in the basement, temporarily occupying my body, while the man returning to the delights of his wedded chamber is a being truly capable of utilizing her particular talents to the greatest advantage. She may wonder at your sudden virility, but I believe she will be rather pleased, if not delighted."
The Devil sniffed. "By the way, do you own a dog?"
"Not now. Used to have a police dog, but my wife made me get rid of it—too savage with kids around, she said. I used to keep it chained down here."
"Oh, excellent," said the Devil. "I see the chain now, fastened to the wall. Must have been a big devil. Ideal! A collar and all. Will be handy to see that you don't walk off with my body while I'm using yours."
He turned his slant eyes on Joe's and stared.
It was Joe's turn to grin. He did so crookedly. "Won't work," he said. "I'm not suggestible. Can't be hypnotized, in other words. Sorry to disappoint you."