The voice Carl heard over the telephone made his face suddenly pale. It was the voice of Pierre Soret, saying: "Doctor Fielding, you must trust the fate of your fiancée to me. She is being taken back to the Temple of Moonere, but do not permit any rash blunders by the police to interfere. Her life will pay the penalty. I am your friend. Wait until tonight, and I will come to your office, if the stars permit." _3. The Cult of Moonere_ Doctor Fielding looked from his watch to the window of his office, opening upon a black velvet night. He had encountered considerable difficulty in restraining Inspector Chadwick from going at once to the Countess Moonard's home in search of Ruth. Now he was further annoyed by the torture of doubt. Had he been foolish in obeying the voice--the voice of an old man he had seen only once before? Perhaps the telephone call had only been a trick to delay the rescue of Ruth. That could be, for it was very late, and there was no sign of the old man, although the sky was without a twinkle of starlight. The telephone on his desk disturbed his thoughts with its jangling ring. He answered impatiently; it would be Inspector Chadwick calling again to find out if the mysterious old man had made his appearance. "I think I should take a look around the Countess' home," Chadwick was insisting. "No! We've gone this far; we must hold out. There's someone at the door now. It's surely he. I'll call you when he's gone," Carl shouted into the telephone, crashed the receiver on the hook, and ran to the door. It was only the charwoman, armed with buckets and mops for her nightly duties. "Sorry, doctor," she said, pushing a stray wisp of grimy hair from her eyes, "but I thought if ye didn't mind, I would be cleanin' yer office. But then if I'll bother ye----" "Yes, you will," Carl answered hastily. "Forget about my office for this one night. I am expecting a caller." He took some loose coins from his pocket and gave them to her. "Here, take these and buy yourself a midnight snack." "Ah, thank ye, sir, and God bless ye, sir, and----" Carl had to push her gently but firmly out of the door to shut off the flood of almost tearful gratitude the old woman was heaping upon him. He closed the door, and turned again to search the sky for any trace of unwelcome stars when a scream echoed down the corridor of the offices. Throwing open the door, he saw the old man standing in the corridor, his black cape covering his face. The charwoman was hastening down the stairs, gesticulating and screaming with fright. "She saw my face," the man in black said simply. Carl ushered him into his office, and quickly locked the door. Pierre now kept his cape wrapped about his face as he looked suspiciously about the office. "Are we alone?" he asked. "Yes. I've been waiting all evening for you. Now please tell me about Ruth. Is she all right? Oh, what does it all mean anyway?"