t she knew him; she was simply aware
that a man was watching her.

Not once did the eyelids close over the glaring eyes shining like two
green phosphorescent stones; not a sign of recognition showed in her face
as she laughed the sweetest little laugh in the world and moved towards
him.

Jan Cuxson had travelled pretty widely in the last few years, and had
seen almost every kind of dance in the various ports at which he had
called, and the towns he had visited in the East, but for absolute
voluptuousness, and the portrayal of physical passions, he had never seen
anything to compare with this which he watched horror-stricken by the sea.

"What have they done to her? What have they done to her? What spell has
been cast? What cruel thing have they done to her?"

Over and over again the questions raced unanswered through his brain.

For at the thrice repeated cry he had understood in a flash that
fastidious, pure, innocent Leonie was unconsciously performing the
preliminary rites customary to the worship of Kali, the goddess of death,
the wife of Siva, the daughter of the Himalayas; which rights might best
be described as a prolonged and terrible orgy of every passion known to
man.

And well was it for Leonie Hetth that Jan Cuxson was straight and
thoroughbred, and that his love was pure, else might it have gone badly
with her, bringing her perchance to the door of the madhouse; for there
is but a hair's breadth between those who are wakened roughly from the
sleep in which they walk, and act, and speak, and those who rave in
padded cells.

She held out her beautiful, bare arms in invitation, and as he remained
quite motionless, glided ever so swiftly to him, so close that he felt
the sweetness of her breath upon his cheek.

"Behold!" she cried softly in perfect Hindustani, "Behold! O my beloved!
has the Sweet One! the Gentle One! the most blessed Mother looked with
graciousness upon her children! May our lips cling in worship, yea! and
our bodies in worship! She looketh with soft eyes upon our love, blessed
is she, O! Durga! most terrible, most fierce, most cruel!"

Jan Cuxson hesitated.

If he put his arms about her she might waken at any moment, and then the
shame and horror of it all.

If he did not respond might she not hurt herself in her wrath as do those
who worship the Black One, and of whom he had heard in his travels in
India.

What on earth was he to do?

And where was he to find the streng