She thought of the evening when she had cried aloud that she would give her soul to know the Wanderer safe, of the quick answer that had followed, and of Keyork Arabian's face.

Was he a devil, indeed, as she sometimes fancied, and had there been a reality and a binding meaning in that contract?
Keyork Arabian! He, indeed, possessed the key to all evil.

What would he have done with Beatrice?
Would he make her rob the church--murder the abbess in her sleep?
Bad, but not bad enough.
Unorna started.

A deed suggested itself so hellish, so horrible in its enormity, so far beyond all conceivable human sin, that for one moment her brain reeled.

She shuddered again and again, and groped for support and leaned against the wall in a bodily weakness of terror.