There was no hint of the pavement-made ruler in the information he gave, but rather of the desire of one gentleman to set another right at the beginning. The musician assumed a position of open-mouthed wonder, gazing steadily at the visitor. "Satan?" he whispered hoarsely. "You need help and advice," said the visitor, his voice sounding like that of a disciple of the healing art, and implying that he had thoroughly diagnosed the case. "No, no," cried the shuddering violinist; "go away. I do not need you." "I regret I can not accept that statement as gospel truth," said Satan, sarcastically, "for if ever a man needed help, you are that man." "But not from you," replied Diotti. "That statement is discredited also by your outburst of a few moments ago when you called upon me." "I do not need you," reiterated the musician. "I will have none of you!" and he waved his arm toward the door, as if he desired the interview to end. "I came at your behest, actuated entirely by kindness of heart," said Satan. Diotti laughed derisively, and Satan, showing just the slightest feeling at Diotti's behavior, said reprovingly: "If you will listen a moment, and not be so rude to an utter stranger, we may reach some conclusion to your benefit." "Get thee behind--" "I know exactly what you were about to say. Have no fears on that score. I have no demands to make and no impossible compacts to insist upon." "I have heard of you before," knowingly spoke the violinist, nodding his head sadly. "No doubt you have," smilingly. "My reputation, which has suffered at the hands of irresponsible people, is not of the best, and places me at times in awkward positions. But I am beginning to live it down." The stranger looked contrition itself. "To prove my sincerity I desire to help you win her love," emphasizing her. "How can you help me?" "Very easily. You have been wasting time, energy and health in a wild desire to play better. The trouble lies not with you." "Not with me?" interrupted the violinist, now thoroughly interested. "The trouble lies not with you," repeated the visitor, "but with the miserable violin you have been using and have just destroyed," and he pointed to the shattered instrument. Tears welled from the poor violinist's eyes as he gazed on the fragments of his beloved violin, the pieces lying scattered about as the result of his unfortunate anger. "It was a Stradivarius," said Diotti, sadly. "Had it been a Stradivarius, an Amati or a Guarnerius, or a host of others rolled into one, you would not have found in it the melody to win the heart of the woman you love. Get a better and more suitable instrument." "Where is one?" earnestly interrogated Diotti, vaguely realizing that Satan knew. "In my possession," Satan replied. "She would hate me if she knew I had recourse to the powers of darkness to gain her love," bitterly interposed Diotti.