presently; "it was burnt down by order of the Elders of the community at
least ten years ago. The village has been uninhabited ever since. But
the simulacra of certain ghastly events that took place under that roof
in past days still continue. And the 'shells' of the chief participants
still enact there the dreadful deeds that led to its final destruction,
and to the desertion of the whole settlement. They were
devil-worshippers!"

Harris listened with beads of perspiration on his forehead that did not
come alone from their leisurely pace through the cool night. Although he
had seen this man but once before in his life, and had never before
exchanged so much as a word with him, he felt a degree of confidence and
a subtle sense of safety and well-being in his presence that were the
most healing influences he could possibly have wished after the
experience he had been through. For all that, he still felt as if he
were walking in a dream, and though he heard every word that fell from
his companion's lips, it was only the next day that the full import of
all he said became fully clear to him. The presence of this quiet
stranger, the man with the wonderful eyes which he felt now, rather than
saw, applied a soothing anodyne to his shattered spirit that healed him
through and through. And this healing influence, distilled from the dark
figure at his side, satisfied his first imperative need, so that he
almost forgot to realise how strange and opportune it was that the man
should be there at all.

It somehow never occurred to him to ask his name, or to feel any undue
wonder that one passing tourist should take so much trouble on behalf of
another. He just walked by his side, listening to his quiet words, and
allowing himself to enjoy the very wonderful experience after his recent
ordeal, of being helped, strengthened, blessed. Only once, remembering