, mysterious word
that struck such terror into his heart?

He made a valiant effort to keep his presence of mind and hold his
nerves steady. Turning, he saw that Kalkmann's face was a dead white.
Kalkmann! He understood that well enough. _Kalkmann_ meant "Man of
Chalk": he knew that. But what did "_Opfer_" mean? That was the real key
to the situation. Words poured through his disordered mind in an endless
stream--unusual, rare words he had perhaps heard but once in his
life--while "_Opfer_," a word in common use, entirely escaped him. What
an extraordinary mockery it all was!

Then Kalkmann, pale as death, but his face hard as iron, spoke a few low
words that he did not catch, and the Brothers standing by the walls at
once turned the lamps down so that the room became dim. In the half
light he could only just discern their faces and movements.

"It is time," he heard Kalkmann's remorseless voice continue just behind
him. "The hour of midnight is at hand. Let us prepare. He comes! He
comes; Bruder Asmodelius comes!" His voice rose to a chant.

And the sound of that name, for some extraordinary reason, was
terrible--utterly terrible; so that Harris shook from head to foot as he
heard it. Its utterance filled the air like soft thunder, and a hush
came over the whole room. Forces rose all about him, transforming the
normal into the horrible, and the spirit of craven fear ran through all
his being, bringing him to the verge of collapse.

_Asmodelius! Asmodelius!_ The name was appalling. For he understood at
last to whom it referred and the meaning that lay between its great
syllables. At the same instant, too, he suddenly understood the meaning
of that unremembered word. The import of the word "_Opfer_" flashed upon
his soul like a message of death.

He thought of making a wild effort to reach the door, but the weakness
of his trembling knees, and the row of black figures that stood between,
dissuaded him at once. He would have screamed for help, but remembering
the emptiness of the vast building, and the loneliness of the situation,
he understood that no help could come that way, and he kept his lips
closed. He stood still and did nothing. But he knew now what was coming.

Two of the Brothers approached and took him gently by the arm.

"Bruder Asmodelius accepts you," they whispered; "are you ready?"

Then he found his tongue and tried to speak. "But what have I to do with
this Bruder Asm--Asmo--?" he stammered, a