He opened the door, slid his hand inside in the darkness, flicked on the light switch. The basement was instantly flooded with brilliant light from the hundred-watt bulbs Joe had put in. Up at the head of the stairs it was less glaring to Joe's eyes than it must have been to the intruder. He had an advantage, and he followed it up quickly. He leaped down the stairway, halfway, and brandished his gun. "Put 'em up!" he snarled. "Don't make a move, or I'll put lead in your liver!" There was no sound. Slowly Joe advanced down the stairs, crouching to get as early a view as possible of the entire basement, until his head came below the floor joists. Nothing was in sight, but he heard a slight sound behind the oil burner, which was the only place in the basement beyond view. "Okay," he said. "You're behind the oil burner. Just step out with your hands up, and don't make any false moves. And don't think you can pot me--I'm the best pistol shot in this state, bar none. When Joe Emerald shoots at something, he hits it." There was no answer. Cautiously Joe stepped down the last two steps to the concrete floor, then walked toward the oil burner's square bulk. He approached it from the end that offered the widest passage between it and the wall, eyes alert for the slightest sign of a protruding gun. But there was nothing. He took the last step that gave him a clear view of the space behind the burner and stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, my beer-guzzling aunt!" "A commendable habit, if done to sufficient excess," said a deep, hoarse, almost animal-like voice. Joe Emerald stared at the creature confronting him, and the creature stared back. "The devil!" he gasped. "Are you swearing, or simply making an observation?" asked the hairy creature, eyeing him intently with its slanted, lidless eyes. Joe swallowed hard. "You are _green_!" he said, in startled tones. "So you're _observing_," said the creature in disappointment. "Yes, I'm green. What of it?" "I'd rather expected you to be red." "And with a forked tail?" * * * * * Joe looked closely. "You haven't one, have you?" "No. I never had. The whole thing is an ecclesiastical calumny." "A what?" "A dirty lie." "You should talk!" exclaimed Joe. "You don't seem to question my identity," observed the creature. "Most people think the devil is human. Merely a case of identifying themselves with a superior being, I assure you." "If you're so superior, what are you doing in my basement?" "I came down here to direct a crime wave--the most ambitious I've attempted in years. This is a very corrupt town, you know." "How right you are," agreed Joe. "But why from _my_ basement?" "What better place than the home of a private detective? I always like to have the law on my side, and it usually is." "What makes you think I'd be on your side?" * * * * *