A little smile of triumph played upon his beautiful cruel face, a little light danced within his cold eyes and ran down the yellow beard.

At that moment he might have sat for a portrait of his master, the devil.
Presently he awoke from his reverie.

"I have her!" he said to himself; "I have her in a vice! She cannot escape me; she cannot let the old man die! Those curs have served my purpose well; they are as easy to play on as a fiddle, and I am a good player.

Yes, and now we are getting to the end of the tune.".