She sat rocking in her chair in the red firelight, her hands framing her lovely face, her eyes staring straight ahead as though they saw opening before them through the sombre shadows of that room all the dread magic of the East where the dancing flame of Sanang’s blazing soul lighted their path to hell through the enchanted forest. Recklow had grown pale, but his voice was steady. “I see no reason,” he said, “why your husband should not love you.” “I tell you my girl’s soul belonged to Sanang—was part of his, for an instant.” “It is burned pure of dross.” “It is _burned_.” Recklow remained silent. Tressa lay deep in her armchair, twisting her white fingers. “What makes him so late?” she said.... “I sent my soul out twice to look for him, and could not find him.” “Send it again,” said Recklow, fearfully. For ten minutes the girl lay as though asleep, then her eyes unclosed and she said drowsily: “I can not find him.” “Did—did you learn anything while—while you were—away?” asked Recklow cautiously. “Nothing. There is a thick darkness out there—I mean a darkness gathering over the whole land. It is like a black fog. When the damned pray to Erlik there is a darkness that gathers like a brown mist——” Her voice ceased; her hands tightened on the arms of her chair. “_That_ is what Sanang is doing!” she said in a breathless voice. “What?” demanded Recklow. “_Praying!_ That is what he is doing! A million perverted minds which he has seized and obsessed are being concentrated on blasphemous prayers to Erlik! Sanang is directing them. Do you understand the terrible power of a million minds all _willing_, in unison, the destruction of good and the triumph of evil? A million human minds! More! For that is what he is doing. That is the thick darkness that is gathering over the entire Western world. It is the terrific materialisation of evil power from evil minds, all focussed upon the single thought that evil must triumph and good die!” She sat, gripping the arms of her chair, pale, rigid, terribly alert, dreadfully enlightened, now, concerning the awful and new menace threatening the sanity of mankind. She said in her steady, emotionless voice: “When the Yezidee Sorcerers desire to overwhelm a nomad people—some yort perhaps that has resisted the Sheiks of the Eight Towers, then the Slayer of Souls rides with his Black Banners to the Namaz-Ga or Place of Prayer.