falling below her waist in a cascade of shimmering sunset hues, against which her rose-pearl body gleamed through the filmy gossamer-like robe.
Again she sat and talked for a while. But along toward midnight she broke a short silence with:
"I'll be back in a minute. I wish to prepare for my dancing."
From her room she brought four antique bronze lamps and a strangely shaped urn of oil. She filled the lamps and placed one at each corner of the living-room, on the floor.
Back into her room she went, and out again with an octagonal-shaped stone, flat on both sides, about an inch thick, and some four indies across. This she placed on the low taboret whereon I usually kept my nargilyeh. She propped up that slab of stone as if placing a mirror — which I decided it couldn't very well be, as it did not even reflect light but seemed as dull as a slab of slate.
As a final touch, she brought out that confounded old fiddle! And on her scarlet lips was a smile that a seraph might have envied, so innocent and devoid of guile it seemed.
"What's this?" I demanded—as if I didn't know!
"Your little 'fidel' with which you will make for your Heldra such rapturous music," she smiled caressingly.
"Um-m-m-m!" I grunted. "And what are those lamps for—and that ugly slab of black rock?"
"That black slab is a 'Hel-stone,' having the property of reflecting whatever is directly before it, if illumined by those four lamps placed at certain angles; and later it will give off those same reflections—even as the stuff called luminous calcium sulfide absorbs light-rays until surcharged, and then emits them, when properly exposed. So, you see, we can preserve the picture of my dance."
"Heldra," I demanded sharply, "are you up to some devilishness? All this looks amazingly like the stage-setting for witch-working!"
"I have sung for you, on different nights," she replied in gentlest reproach, "and have told old tales, and have attired myself again and again for your pleasure in beholding me. Have all these things ever bewitched you, or harmed anyone? How, then, can the fact of my dancing for my own satisfaction, before the mystic Hel-stone, do any harm?"
As ever, she won. Her sapphire orbs did queer things to me whenever they looked into my own gray, faded old eyes — trusting me to understand and approve whatever she did, simply because she was she and I was I.
"All right," I said. "But you're making a fool of me—insisting that I play this old fiddle. Well—I'll teach you a lesson!" And I drew the bow over the strings with a most appalling wail.
And with the unexpected swiftness of a steel trap closing on its victim, icy fingers locked about my wrist, and I knew very definitely that another and alien personality was guiding my arm and fingers! But there came likewise a swift certitude that if I behaved, no harm would ensue—to me, at least. So I let the thing have its way — and listened to such music as I had not believed could be played on any instrument devised by a mortal.
I wish that I could describe that music, but I do not know the right words. I doubt if they have been invented. It was wild, barbaric, savage, but likewise it was alluring, seductive, stealing away all inhibitions—too much of it would have corrupted the angels in heaven. I was almost in a stupor, intoxicated, like a hasheesh-eater in a drugged dream, spell-
