“And this was the man who attacked you?” I cried, as he flinched beneath my aim. “It is only what might be expected of a man who masquerades as the Evil One.”
“You!” I heard Yelverton cry in a voice which showed how bitter was his regret, as he faced Aline, who in her long, black robe stood trembling and unsteady before him. “Then this is the truth,” he cried hoarsely. “You are the priestess of Satan!”
“Ah, yes!” she cried. “But first hear me before you condemn me! And you, Clifton,” she added, turning to me. “Hear me, and when you have listened try and regard me with sympathy and pity. I know I am unworthy of regard, wretched outcast that I am; but I have acted under compulsion. I swear I have!”
“Enough!” roughly cried the director of those profane rites, who had posed above the altar regarding all with satisfaction. “There has been treachery; and you, our brothers and sisters, must decide the fate of those who have dared to enter with the spy.”
“Silence!” I cried, handling my revolver determinedly. “First let us hear the statement of this priestess of yours. The first person who lays hands on either of us pays for it with his life.”
I was a pretty dead shot, and at that moment was desperate.
“Listen!” Aline cried, addressing Jack, “and I will tell you. Three years ago I was living with my father in Montgeron when I became acquainted with a man who one night persuaded me to go with him to a house in Paris, and there by his trickery I was initiated as a Diabolist. It was partly because of a passing fancy for him, and partly because of the mysteries surrounding it, that I became a member of the infamous cult; yet soon I hated the awful rites, and the revulsion of feeling within me caused me to embrace Christianity, so that when at length my father died, and I escaped from this man and came to England, I was received into the English Church. Then you know how we met, and I loved you. My father had left me fairly well off, and as atonement for my sin in worshipping Satan I devoted the greater part of my money to charity in the poorer districts of London. Suddenly, however, this man, who was one of the elders of the cult of Satan in Paris, found me in London, and a branch having been established here, he compelled me under threats of exposure to you of my association with this abominable sect, to return to them and become their priestess. Thus, powerless beneath his influence, I loved you and worshipped at your church, yet on each Sunday night compelled to come here and assist at the Black Mass of the Evil One. Can you imagine what my feelings have been? Can you fully realise the awful pangs of conscience when, fearing God as I do, I have knelt upon yonder cushion compelled to profane His name, because of my love for you and the fear that if you knew the truth you would cast me aside? Yes,” she cried wildly, her face blanched and haggard, “I loved you, Jack!” and staggering forward she fell upon her knees before him in penitence.
“It is astounding!” he exclaimed. “Satan himself has sent you into my life, for you are his priestess.”
“But tell me,” I cried, addressing the kneeling woman. “Explain your object in so mystifying me, and how it was that at your touch any holy emblems were reduced to ashes?”
“It is part of our creed,” she answered. “Each Diabolist on placing upon himself the Bond of Black takes an oath to steal crucifixes, Bibles, prayer-books, communion-cups, sacramental wine, or anything sacred to the worship of God, in order that they may be defiled or destroyed in the Temple of Satan. You have already seen the holy water, and the consecrated host, defiled, and each of the crucifixes burned in this brazier have been stolen by those who had destroyed them as offerings to the King of Evil.”