Mary gave the man a sidelong glance. His face looked like a mask and his eyes had a glazed appearance. Now she knew the reason for his complete lack of expression, the idea that he was little more than a walking corpse filled her with horror. But Ratnadatta was saying, 'Come, plees; Abaddon ees ready for us,' so she accompanied him into the house.

The benign-looking High Priest was in his library. As on the previous occasion that Mary had been taken to him there he was wearing a dark grey suit. He came forward to welcome her, led her to a chair and said:

'My child, you are looking more beautiful than ever. You will serve most admirably the purpose I have in mind.'

This reference to her good looks did nothing to lessen Mary's apprehension about what they might mean to do with her, but she managed to smile at him as he went on: 'You will no doubt know that in many ancient Temples there were Priestesses who at times were called on to prophesy. That is the case here; and it is our custom to choose the most beautiful among our Sisters for such work. Tonight, in a little over an hour's time, a prophecy has been promised to a certain person, and it must be made. Unhappily our Sister Catherine de Medici, who was to make it, was suddenly taken ill last night. Among us there are, of course, a number of other lovely women on whom I could have called; but this morning the thought of you, my dear Circe, crossed my mind. It seemed an admirable opportunity to test your worthiness for advancement; so I sent for you to take Catherine's place.'

'Thank you,' Mary replied a little uncertainly. If to play the part of a Priestess was all that was required of her, that was a great relief after the kind of ordeals her imagination had conjured up; but as she was no true Satanist, she thought it unlikely that the Devil would inspire her, so she hurried on. 'But I've never attempted to prophesy. Perhaps I wouldn't be able to, however hard I try.'

Abaddon held up a slim-fingered, beautifully kept hand. 'My child, you have no need to concern yourself on that score. It is I who do the prophesying here. You have only to learn by heart the words I shall give you, and at the right time let them emerge from your lovely mouth.'

With a silent sigh of relief, Mary nodded. The plump pink face opposite her smiled and the melodious voice went on. 'We will refer to him who has been promised a prophesy as Mr. X. As poor Catherine is ill, we will tell him that but add that her sense of duty is so strong that she will still prophesy for him, although weak and in bed.'

'Why . . .' Mary began, but he cut her short with a frown.