Sin believed him. From experience he had learned the difficulty of gauging the moods of m’lord after a few such applications had filed or smoothed the edges of his tooth-sharp temper. For safety’s sake he gave a side glance into the sensitized panel. “Notice the size of you as compared with me--and I am supposed to be well-developed from my criminal calisthenics.” His Highness frowned. He also “noticed.” “Where is the value in good looks,” he conceded, “if there’s none around whom you admire to admire you?” Old Original was quick to follow the advantage. “A word on that very subject is what I returned to say, a word of condolence and advice.” “_You_ offer condolence and advice to _me_?” The King of Evil glared at the most malapert fiend of his kingdom. “Condolence, Sire, over your state of solitariness. Advice as to how to ease it. From my hurting envy of your appearance I realize one littleness in my largeness. Absolute admiration may endure only where envy may not spring. Why does not Your Majesty seek that companionship which is not born to jealousy? Isn’t there a complete assortment of rags and bones and hanks of hair in Gehenna’s bargain basement?” “You suggest for me the companionship of--” Satan paused briefly to sneer--“of a female shade? Don’t you suppose, if I cared for the sex, that I’d be running a harem of all nations, stocked with every famed siren, from Helen of Troy forwards and back? You should know by this time, old weakling, that your spirit in women doesn’t appeal to me any more than to mortal profligates. And the pulchritude of most has gone by the time they get here.” “But there are the dewy-looking souls loitering about the Fields. Why not break the rule that there may be no transference between Elysium and the Lower Land before the Call? Aren’t you the exception to all rules? Why not an adventure for Your Excellency such as often we have seen in the cinemized episodes of modern villains--an abduction, say, of the most visible and fair before the guards can interfere? Don’t despise my idea, generated from a conviction that the chief lack in your life is loneliness.” “An angel for me?” Mirthlessly His Highness laughed. “Sir Sin, they bore me limp as a summer-resort collar. To be sure that a she-soul is going to be eternally good is a fraction worse than to be sure she’ll be eternally bad. No, philanderer, you’ll have to do better than that. There is not a female, quick or dead, for whose absolute admiration I’d give a plugged nickel.” The click of the door-knocker punctuated this assertion. Satan strode to the throne; replaced his crown; signaled the minister to respond. Soon Sin bowed low before his Master, a look of evil animation on his face. “Already the Seven have returned, Sire. They report that a goodly number of bad ones were crowding through the gates. Among others, they interviewed a couple who, they thought, may interest Your Majesty. They await your pleasure without.”