"It is an island in the sea yonder, madame. A quiet place of trees. When there was not a man in the world, evil spirits built there an altar for the worship of the devil. No men could have built it. There are huge stones carried there from the mountains far inland, that no engine could lift. It is a great mystery." "It is the one place in the world, people say," interrupted Selo, lowering his voice, "where God never has been. A dreadful place, madame!" Frances laughed. "That is the place for me," she said to Selo. "Take me there." The old man looked at her with shrewd, friendly eyes, and then beckoned Bauzy aside. "Who is she? She has the bearing of a great lady, but her face hurts me. What harm has come to her?" "How do I know?" said Bauzy. "Go for your boat. The sea is rising." Late in the afternoon M. Selo landed his strange passenger upon the pebbly beach of the accursed island. He led her up on the rocks, talking, and pointing across the sea. "Beyond is the Atlantic, and on yonder headland are the great menhirs of Carnac--thirty thousand of them, brought there before Christ was born. But the Evil One loves this island best of all places. It has in it the mystery of the world. Come," he said, in an awed voice. "It is here." He crossed to the hill, stooped, and entered a dark cave about forty feet long, which was wholly lined with huge flat rocks carved with countless writhing serpents. As Frances passed they seemed to stir and breathe beside her, at her feet, overhead. The cave opened into a sacrificial chamber. The reptiles grew gigantic here, and crowded closer. Through some rift a beam of melancholy light crept in; a smell of death hung in the thick, unclean air. Selo pointed to a stone altar. "It was there they killed their victims," he whispered, and began to pray anxiously, half-aloud. When he had finished, he hurried back, beckoning to her to come out. "Go," she said. "I will stay here." "Then I will wait outside. This is no place for Christian souls. But we must return soon, madame. My little girl will be watching now for me." When he was gone she stood by the altar. This island of Gavr' Inis was one of the places to which she and George had long ago planned to come. She remembered the very day on which they had read the legend that on this altar men before the Flood had sacrificed to the god of Murder. "I am the murderer now, and George knows it," she said quietly. But she was cold and faint, and presently began to tremble weakly. She went out of the cave and stood on the beach. "I want to go home, George," she said aloud. "I want to be Frances Waldeaux again. I'm sure I didn't know it was in me to do that thing." There was no answer. She was alone in the great space of sky and sea. The world was so big and empty, and she alone and degraded in it! "I never shall see George again. He will think of me only as the woman who killed his wife," she thought.