nights later an answer was given and one of a terrible sort.

Shortly after sundown Godfrey was sitting in the missionary's house
writing a report. Mr. Tafelett, it being Sunday, was holding an evening
service in the church, at which Jaga and most of the Christians were
present. Suddenly a tumult arose, and the air was rent with savage
shouts and shrieks. Godfrey sprang up and snatched his revolver just as
some of his servants arrived and announced that the people in the
church were being killed. Acting on his first impulse, he ran to the
place, calling to his guard to follow him, which they did so tardily
that he entered it alone. Here a sight of horror met his eyes.

The building was full of dead and dying people. By the altar, dressed
in his savage witch-doctor's gear, stood Alulu, a lamp in his hand,
with which evidently he had been firing the church, for tongues of
flame ran up the walls. On the altar itself was something that had a
white cloth thrown over it, as do the sacred vessels. Catching sight of
Godfrey, with a yell the brute tore away the napkin, revealing the
severed head of Mr. Tafelett, whose surplice-draped body Godfrey now
distinguished lying in the shadows on one side of the altar!

"Here is the white medicine-man's magic wine," he screamed, pointing to
the blood that ran down the broidered frontal. "Come, drink! come,
drink!"

Godfrey ran forward up the church, his pistol in his hand. When he
reached the chancel he stopped and fired at the mouthing, bedizened
devil who was dancing hideously in front of the altar. The heavy
service-revolver bullet struck him in some mortal place, for he leapt
into the air, grabbed at the altar cloth and fell to the ground. There
he lay still, covered by the cloth, with the massive brass crucifix
resting face downwards on his breast and the murdered man's head lying
at his side--as though it were looking at him.

This was the last sight that Godfrey saw for many a day, for just then
a spear pierced his breast, also something struck him on the temple. A
curious recollection rose in his mind of the head of a mummy after the
Pasteur had broken it off, rolling along the floor in the flat at
Lucerne. Then he thought he heard Madame Riennes laughing, after which
he remembered no more; it might have been a thousand years, or it might
have been a minute, for he had passed into a state that takes no reck
of time.

Godfrey began to dream. He dreamed that he was trave