After she had done it three times and again lay back, he stopped her from pulling the sheets up to her chin, gently touched her breasts and murmured, 'You are a beautiful girl; very beautiful.'

Mary made no reply, but lay there looking up at him.

His long slim fingers moved from her breast up to her cheek.

For a moment he stroked it softly. The finger-tips slid down, caressed her chin, then she felt them on her neck. Bending above her he brought his other hand into play, so that the ringers of both stroked her from the ears down to the shoulders, then his two hands became still. They closed round her throat.

Staring up at him she saw his pale blue eyes. They were no longer consciously looking down at her, but faintly glazed.

With sudden awful horror she realized the truth. This High Priest of Evil, who had never shown her anything other than oourtesy and kindness, who looked so benign and benevolent, was, in fact, a strangler. It must have been to satiate his lust in safety when the fits came upon him, as a victim of this most terrible of all perversions, that he had become a Satanist.

Her mouth opened to scream. Abaddon's thumbs jabbed downwards, cutting short her cry. His lips curved into a terrible smile and a low maniac chuckle issued from them. His eyes were now quite blank. Throwing up her arms she seized his wrists and strove to break his hold. Violently, she threw herself from side to side, but those slim fingers of his seemed to be made of steel. Her eyes were starting from her head, her lungs seemed about to burst.

Into her wildly agitated brain there came the terrible thought that this must be the end of the road that Ratnadatta had all the time destined for her. He was Abaddon's creature and must be employed by him to lure girls to the Temple so that in this beautiful bed the evil High Priest could strangle them.

Suddenly, through the buzzing in her ears, she heard the voice of Honorius, sharp, imperative, 'Master! Enough! She is needed for Our Lord Satan's work. Later, if you must, but not tonight.'

Ignoring her cry Abaddon, smiling a twisted smile, his now seemingly sightless eyes fixed on Mary's, tightened his grip on her throat. But the High Priestess had evidently had previous experience of his murderous fits, and knew how to deal with them. Her classic features set, like those of an outraged Athené, and her white nun's garments swirling about her, she struck Abaddon with the flat of her hand again and again across the face.

He took his hands from Mary's neck, shook himself, blinked and, after a moment, his eyes regained their normally benevolent expression. Looking down at her again he muttered: