of the torches and the altar fire. "Behold, goat of thy worshiper's flock, we"
"Zut! Enough of this; cordieu, too much!" de Grandin's furious voice cut through the clamor as a fire-bell stills the noise of street traffic. "Hold your hand, accursed of heaven, or by the head of St. Denis, I scatter your brains in yonder dish!" His heavy pistol pointed unwaveringly at the professor's bald head till the terrified man unloosed his hold upon the squirming goat.
"To your rooms, my little ones," de Grandin commanded, his round, blazing eyes traveling from one trembling girl to another. "Be not deceived, God is not mocked. Evil communications corrupt good manners—parbleu, Monsieur, I do refer to you and no one else" he glowered at the professor. "And you, Mademoiselle," he called to the kneeling girl, "do you put down that dish and have nothing to do with this sacrifice of blood. Do as I say. I, Jules de Grandin, command it!
"Now, Monsieur le Professeur," he waved his pistol to enforce his order, "do you come with me and explore these grounds. If we find your great god Pan I shall shoot his evil eyes from out his so hideous head. If we do not find him—morbleu, it were better for you that we find him, I damn think!"
"Get outa my house!" Professor Judson's mantle of culture ripped away, revealing the coarse fiber beneath it; "I'll not have any dam' Frenchman comin' around here an'"
"Softly, Monsieur, softly; you will please remember there are ladies present," de Grandin admonished, motioning toward the door with his pistol. "Will you come with me, or must I so dispose of you that you can not run away until I return? I could most easily shoot through one of your fat legs."
Professor Judson left the altar of Pan and accompanied de Grandin into the night. I do not know what took place out under the stars, but when the Frenchman returned some ten minutes later, he-carried the inert form of the eleventh young woman in his arms, and the professor was not with him.
"Quickly, Friend Trowbridge," he commanded as he laid the girl on the pavement, "give me some of the wine left from our supper. It will help this poor one, I think. Meantime"—he swung his fierce, unwinking gaze about the clustering circle of girls—"do you young ladies assume garments more fitted for this day and age, and prepare to evacuate this house of hell in the morning. Dr. Trowbridge and I shall remain here until the day, and tomorrow we notify the police that this place is permanently closed forever."
It was a grim, hard task we had bringing the unconscious girl out of her swoon, but patience and the indomitable determination of Jules de Grandin finally induced a return of consciousness.
"Oh, oh, I saw Pan—Pan looked at me from the leaves!" the poor child sobbed hysterically as she opened her eyes.
"Non, non, ma chère," de Grandin assured her. "'Twas but a papier-mâché mask which the so odious one placed in the branches of the bush to terrify you. Behold, I will bring it to you that you may touch it, and know it for the harmless thing it is!"
He darted to the doorway of the temple, returning instantly with the hideous mask of a long, leering face, grinning mouth stretched from pointed ear to pointed ear, short horns rising from the temples and upward-slanting eyes glaring in fiendish malignancy. "It is ugly, I grant you," he admitted, flinging the thing upon the pavement and grinding it
