Truly our gaze encountered a scene of the most bewildering and terrible
description. Within, was a spacious cellar-like chamber, the walls of
which were hung with black whereon were curious devices in white, and
around in sconces were burning candles of black wax. At the end,
opposite where we stood, was a church Communion-table whereon burnt
long, black candles, and before it stood a kind of low stool with a
large cushion of black velvet upon it. All was black save the strange
designs upon the walls, while the candles shed a curious mystic light
upon the whole apartment, illuminating the central object so weirdly
that our startled eyes were riveted upon it. This object, placed
immediately over the altar, was nothing less than a great effigy of
Satan, with a leering grin upon his ghastly features, holding in one
hand an apple, and in the other a wine-bottle. In the eyes there burned
a blood-red light, and the protruding tongue, as he laughed, seemed
pointed as that of a serpent. It was hideous; and I heartily wished
myself out of that noisome place.
Suddenly I saw something which paralysed me with terror. The effigy
moved. What I had believed to be but a statue, bent down and uttered
some words to a thin, pale-faced man who had at that instant entered by
the door on the opposite side of the chamber.
"Look!" gasped Yelverton. "Look! It is living!"
But Muriel placed her hand upon his mouth, demanding that he should
preserve silence and not risk our lives.
The newcomer spat into a marble bowl of water like that placed at the
door of the Roman Catholic churches, whereupon Satan gave vent to a
laugh so hideous that it sent a chill through me. Next second, some
eight or ten others, men and women, entered, each expectorating into the
holy water as sign of contempt for all things sacred.
With bated breath we watched. For several years there had been hints in
the press of the establishment in London of a cult of Satan, but very
few believed it. Yet here we were actual witnesses that Diabolism did
exist among us. This age is indeed a decadent one, for according to the
facts which had already leaked out the terribly profane doctrine of
Satan consisted of a kind of reversed Christianity, it being inferred,
from the condition of the world at the present time, that the mastery of
the moment rests with the evil principle, and that the beneficent Deity
is at a disadvantage. The Diabolists, therefore, while believing that
the Deity reigns, declare that he is the author of human misery, and
they therefore take sides with Satan in the cause of humanity.
According to those who have come out of this cultus, the worshippers
co-operate with Satan to insure his triumph, and they believe that he
communicates with them to encourage and strengthen them.
Such, briefly, is the belief of the modern Diabolists, and such is the
latest acme of profanity established among the greatest and most
civilised nation on the earth.
As we watched, our eyes strained to witness everything, we saw infamous
rites performed, rites which caused us both to shudder in horror; yet
curiously enough Muriel looked upon them calmly, without betraying the
slightest fear. Those who assembled were, for the most part, well
dressed, and presently the Evil One upon the pedestal reached forth his
hand and rang a small bell. Next instant there entered two acolytes
bearing a ciborium, which they placed upon the altar. Then, after
repeating a prayer to Satan in Latin, in imitation of a Christian
prayer, the worshippers with one accord fell upon their knees in
adoration of the Evil One.
The scene was strangely weird, but utterly horrible, for on regaining
their feet all formed a row and filed past the altar, each taking up a
dagger, and as they passed stabbed the consecrated host within the
casket. Then, at sign from the hideous man upon the pedestal, a Satanic
liturgy was chanted, and a brazier was lit by the acolyte in the centre
of the chamber, when each worshipper producing a crucifix spat three
times upon it and cast it into the fire, while Satan laughed in triumph
and they cried aloud to him in adoration. To witness such Pagan rites
as these, where every element of Christianity was held up to ridicule,
was sickening. A feeling of nausea crept over me when I heard these men
and women anathematise the Deity, and the infamous and degrading
ceremonies caused me to shudder.
Suddenly there was a stir among the members of this evil cult at that
moment kneeling, for a woman slowly entered, veiled, followed by a
masked man in a long, black vestment, bearing on the breast an effigy of
Satan. A silence fell, deep and complete, for the woman in her flowing
robes of black stood before the stool in front of the altar and raised
her bare white arms above her head.
She was evidently the priestess of the cult, for I watched her stand
before the stool, while the priest with the assistance of an acolyte
brought out a huge crucifix of black and silver and placed it before
her. Then he also produced a bag of black silk containing something
which moved within, and deposited it at her feet.
When he had done this, and all was in readiness, she knelt upon the
cushion, and placed her back as a reading-desk for him, while he went
through the ceremony of the Black Mass, an appalling profanity
impossible to here describe.
When at length this had been concluded, the woman rose and, bending,
took from the bag the object that had been writhing within it. Eagerly
we strained our eyes, and were amazed to see that it was a black cat.
With a loud cry to Satan as ruler of the world, she took a long, thin
dagger from her belt and plunged it into the animal, which expired
almost without a struggle. Then, with a swift, dexterous movement she
cut out the heart, and with its blood defiled the crucifix, an action
which was applauded by the onlookers, now increased in number, and
greeted with a loud laugh by the hideous representative of Evil at the
end of that foul, terrible place.
Next second, however, a circumstance occurred which rendered our
concealment impossible. The priestess with a swift movement tore her
veil from her face, while the priest took off his mask.
The two faces revealed caused us to utter exclamations of surprise which
at once rendered concealment no longer possible.
The priestess was none other than Aline Cloud, and the priest the
bony-faced scoundrel Hibbert, whom Muriel had loved!
"We are discovered!" my love gasped. "Be careful, or your lives may be
taken. These people are desperate."
Both Jack and myself drew our revolvers in an instant, and ere we knew
how it occurred, a door opened, and we found ourselves within the Temple
of Evil, struggling in the confusion which had been caused. The man who
had posed as Satan, director of the cult, had sprung down to earth in a
moment, shouting to some hidden person to close all egress and bearing
in his hand the gleaming dagger with which the worshippers had stabbed
the sacred elements within the ciborium.
Aline, when she had recognised us, gave a shriek and stood glaring at
her lover, pale as death. Jack, tall, and strong as a lion, stood in
the garb of the Christian Church within that foul den of the Diabolists
and with a loud voice called upon them to remain quiet and listen.
But at that instant I saw in the eyes of Satan a dangerous expression,
and with a curse he sprang at Muriel with his knife, and would have
struck her dead had I not been quick enough to arrest the blow and point
my revolver at his head.
"Would you," she cried, "attempt my life a second time? See!" and she
pointed to me. "This man is my lover; and for your cowardly attempt to
kill me you shall answer to him."
"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."