It was on my tongue to confess how I had watched her walking on that night in Hyde Park with the man whom Muriel loved, but fearing she might be wrathful that I had acted as eavesdropper, I held my secret. She smiled with an air of gratification at my words. "Keep faith with me," she answered, "and you shall ere long be afforded illustration of a volition which will amaze you. The Empire of Evil is great, and its ruler is absolute." If she could direct the destinies of Muriel at will, compel her to abandon this man with whom she was infatuated, and cause her to return to me repentant, then that, indeed, would be proof conclusive that she were something more than human. I had implored of Muriel to give me hope, and had used upon her all the persuasive power at my command to induce her to think more kindly of me, yet without avail. An influence which would cause her to return to my side must be irresistible, and therefore an exercise of the all-ruling power of evil. "And when may I expect her to relinquish this man?" I inquired eagerly. She rose slowly, a strange, rather tragic-looking figure, so slim, pale-faced and fragile that she seemed almost as one from whom the flush of life had faded. Her brows contracted, her thin lips twitched, and the magnificent marquise ring of turquoises and diamonds upon her ungloved hand seemed to glitter with an iridescence that was dazzling. She raised her hand with an imperious gesture, describing a semicircle, while I stood aghast watching her. "I have commanded!" she said a moment later, in that curious far-off tone. "At this instant the change is effected. She no longer loves that man who came between you!" "And she loves me?" I cried, incredible that she could at will effect such changes in the affections of any person. Truly her power was demoniacal. "Yes," she answered. "She will be penitent." "And she will come to me?" "Wait in patience," the mysterious woman answered. "You must allow time for the thoughts of regret now arising within her to mature. When they have done so, then will she seek your forgiveness." "Why have you done me this service, Aline?" I asked, utterly mystified. "It is a service which I can never repay." "We are friends," she responded simply. "Not enemies." Then for the first time the terrible thought flashed upon me that by making the agreement I had made with her I might be aiding the murderer of poor Roddy to escape. She had set a seal upon my lips. Next day was Sunday, and as Jack Yelverton had not called upon me, and I did not know his address, I suddenly, early in the evening, resolved to go down to Walworth and see whether I could find him.