He had stood quite still, calm and undismayed, in the awful path of the straddling Apollyon whose head was girt around with yellow fire, and had seen him swerve madly and fall off the machine.

And when the devil had picked himself up, he had tried to blast him with the Great Curse of the Underworld; but Paul had shown him his cornelian heart, his talisman, and the devil had remounted his glowing vehicle and had ridden away in a spume of flame.

The Father of Lies had tried to pass himself off as a postman.

The memory of the shallow pretence tickled Paul so that he laughed; and then he half fainted in pleuritic agony.
After the interlude with the devil he could recollect little.

He was going up to London to make his fortune.